#elenawrit

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

[panagiasikelia]

Escape Plan

Pairing : Rafael Barba x Reader (Law and Order SVU).

Prompt : 8. “For once, I’m not completely terrified of letting you take the lead on this. Either I’m getting used to your shenanigans or I’ve completely given up trying to stop you.”

Author’s Note : It’s a little thing for Meg (@thranduilsperkybutt​), to celebrate her 8.000 followers, she is so talented, and totally deserves it ! 

Warnings: Weird use of words, I guess ? Fluff.

The one who dares to get you back at work a weekend deserves amply to have his testicles cook in the frying pan with some raspberry jam. Here we are, it is said! The only day when you could stay in bed, without getting dressed nor getting up, to cuddle with your cat and to watch all the late Netflix series you missed, one gets you back by strength for one space of redneck which decides to make the dick spin in a park in front of two girls. Brilliant, here is something to feed our love of the Humanity.

Dressed quickly, you dragged your body with force up to the office, your pajamas still hidden under your clothes, ready to turn back or to punish the shameless person which disturbs the rest of honest people. After having furiously abandoned your car in the parking lot - what shame to have to take her out, the poor darling, don’t you feel sorry ? - before swallowing you in the elevator, asking all of the gods of this existence and the next one to have enough time to make a hot chocolate at the office there. As the doors of the elevator were about to close, a hand rushes between them and a figure joins you inside. And what a figure!

An Adonis dressed in gold, with mint eyes full of sarcasm, a solid and purple covered torso, similar to the Roman emperors, and long legs hidden under a white toga, ready to fly away towards other heavens. All right, he wore an improbable outfit with a canary yellow oilskin, a pink raspberry polo and an ecru pants, and looked as impressed and annoyed as you.

On the other side of the small space, Rafael Barba, magnificent ADA of the prosecutor, the carrier of straps and improbable ties, looked up and measured you in a equal way, casually lengthened against a wall. A small sarcastic smile stretched his lips while he indicated your clothes.

"What a beautiful T-shirt" He says, pointing at your Slytherin T-shirt around your shape.

"Charming oilskin" You also chuckle. “Lost your boots along the way? I do not dare to imagine the risk you take to wet your straps.”

"For your information, I was with friends on a yacht."

"And they did not throw you overboard?"

"As much as they did not let you come inside in spite of this T-shirt?"

"Nice shot", you answer him with a small wink, the humour suddenly refreshed by this small verbal sparring match.

The elevator opens in front of you two and you rush outside, up to your team, gathered in front of the window without complexion, behind which is the victim. Fin quickly greets you, and at this very moment, you knew you had to say goodbye to your hope of a hot chocolate, leaving you without reinforcement in the face of the monotonousness - or the stupidity, it is your choice - of this pervert. Dixit the team, he denies everything, alleging that it was a misunderstanding, of course. This charming young man from a good family undoubtedly managed to ruin your weekend. In every new excuse which comes from all sides - excuses at the usual level of "sorry, madam, my homework ate my dog", "it is not me, it is the wind", "look, through the window, a biiiiiiird !" - You pull a face, scrawling behind an index card of your file to relax. Barba keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eye, watching you ruminating plans, either to run away through the window, or to suicide this stupid guy. Your last drawing represents the inside of the office, and the outside, with a small chap seeming to jump through the window with the help of a pair of suspenders to land in a bunch of hay, before running away in a Mario's kart in a sleeping setting, free of everything. Others seemed to include a Death Star, the eagles of LOTR, a Tardis and something quite different who would allow you to return at your home with a grandiloquent flash of lightning and flame. This and a method of torture with One Direction to make him admit the truth.

When Amanda and Sonny return with the testimonies of witnesses, Olivia makes a sign to tell you and Fin to go to cook the suspect. While you abandon your options behind, you seize the derisive look of Barba on this last "solution", and you congeal in your movement, waiting for you in a reprimand.

“For once, I'm not completely terrified of letting you take the lead on this. Either I'm getting used to your shenanigans or I've completely given up trying to stop you.” He said, completely amused by your attitude. He gives you a wink, totally amused by the situation.

When you return later, after the interrogation, you find your paper of solutions with a phone number on the corner, as well as the drawing of a kind of immense office and one note with a very characteristic writing : " Save me ".

[rreader]

I was thinking about something with Merlin, some fluff feelings, where the reader is his apprentice, full of sass with the others kingsmen, especially Eggsy, and he is totally seduced by this ? Thank you ;)

Pairing: Merlin x ReaderFandom: KingsmanWarnings: steamy parts ; language

A/N: gaaah, THANK YOU for requesting something Merlin. I love this guy to bits and he’s one of my favorite characters ever!!! (added Merlin to my fandoms page)

                                                          *****

“Merlin?Have you seen Galahad?” you walked into Merlin’s office, your heelsclicking against the hard floor. He turned around in his chair andtried his hardest not to let you see the effects you were alreadyhaving on him again. What had he been thinking when he hired you..

“He’swith his princess, I think.”

“Where?”

“Athome, I assume? Why?”

Youtook a few steps forward until you were standing right in front ofhim.

“Wouldyou mind?” you pointed towards the console behind him and hequickly got off the chair, before you get any ideas about sitting onhis lap. While the idea of that didn’t sound too bad, getting a boner at workwasn’t something he wanted and your outfit alreadymade his pants feel too tight.

Soyou sat down and typed in a few lines of codes.

Asecond later, a picture appeared in front of you. Of Eggsy and Tildein their bedroom, doing it with each other.

“Oh..uhm..” Merlin didn’t know whether he should turn around to give them some privacy or keep hiseyes fixed on the screen.

Buta second later, he was glad that he didn’t look away.

Yougrabbed the microphone and grinned.

“Galahad!”Eggsy immediately jumped off of Tilde and fell off the bed.

Youstarted laughing, and leaned back into the chair.

“Goodjob,” Merlin placed his hand on your shoulder and patted it.“Taught you well.”

“Thanks,boss,” you winked at him, then turned your attention back tothe screen. “You’re late to your training.”

“Whatthe fuck, (Y/N)!”

“Now,now. I wouldn’t have had to do this, if you had been on time. Soget cleaned up. The cab is already waiting for you.”

“Fuckinghell,” he mumbled and quickly put on his clothes.

Tildedidn’t seem to happy, but Eggsy was more scared of you than Tilde.

Youclosed the video and turned around in the chair to face Merlin.

“I’venever seen him get off her so fast,” Merlin smirked and leanedagainst the desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You’ve seen a lot of this then?” you pointed towards the screen, a smirk already forming on your face, which only grew bigger when he realized that that must have sounded like he watched them fuck regularly, “Hadthe best teacher,” you quickly changed the topic, got up and grabbed your files. “Maybehe’ll even be on time one day.”

“Holdon now, don’t get your hopes up,” both of you started laughing andonly when you stopped, did you realize that you were a little tooclose to him.

So close, that you just had to glance at his lips, that looked very inviting right about now.

Youknew that you were having some effects on him.

Thathe was feeling attracted to you and even though you probablyshouldn’t, you found him extremely attractive as well. He was themost intelligent man you’ve ever have met in your life and even thoughhe was your boss, you couldn’t help but fantasize about him from timeto time, doing things that one should not do with their boss.

Andbefore you even knew what happened, he had pinned you against thedesk, his lips hard against yours and the files all over the floor.

Bothof you used to think of yourselves as professionals. That you couldhandle the sexual tension and just ignore it, especially in the workplace, but now that he was standing between your legs and you could feel hiserection against you, you had no scruples.

Veryprofessional the two of you were.

Youlet out a low moan, when he started kissing your neck, one of yourhands on the back of his head, the other one on his lower back,steadying yourself.

Bothof you were way too distracted with each other, that you forgot aboutEggsy and only remembered when the door opened and he walked in,right before you wanted to open up Merlin’s pants and get to thereally good part.

“Oi! You fuckers think you can stop me from fuckin’ my girlfriend, but you’re doin’ it ‘ere?!”

Merlinquickly jumped back and you off the desk, pretending like nothing ever happened.

“You’relate,” was all you said, before smoothing out your skirt, pickingup the files and walking towards the exit of Merlin’s door for Eggsyto follow you, not even glancing back at Merlin, who only staredafter you dumbfounded.

“Really,Merlin? Really?” Eggsy shook his head, trying to act disappointed,but couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face.

“Galahad!”you yelled from the hallway and Eggsy didn’t waste another breathbefore he sprinted after you.

Merlinlet out a breath and put off his glasses, so he could run his handover his face.

Somuch for not getting a boner at work.

[nerddface]

I love "Can’t Even Keep a Bakery Running", I can't wait to see more !!

Ah, yay! I’m so glad you enjoyed it! The reception for Haytham has been kinda lackluster, so progress hasn’t been a priority. I’ll be sure to dust it off for you, though, friend! 💖

[theoppositeofadults]

C'est quoi le problème de l'université de Glasgow ? Elle est pas bonne ?

Je ne l’aime juste pas, it’s not deep ! 

[writingfireandblood-blog]

wow, I love Hands Of Gold, can you make a second part please ? (Yes, with the new season I totally need some sweets feelings for Jaime Lannister ;) )

You’re the second person to ask for a part two :) I promise it’s in progress

[ben-mendelsohn-trash]

Wow, just wow ! This confession was a pure sin ! Can you make a second part, with more sin ? I'm not sure we had enough to go to hell ! 😉

Ahhhh thankyou!!! *hugs close* Umm... I’m not sure but if I do ever write anything then I’m sure you will hear about it! :D

[rowdy-revenant]

Hi ! Can I be tagged in all your Gabriel and Lui fics ? I love them ! (especially the sheriff one 😉)

Thank you! Welcome to the tag list

[elsdaydreams]

Hi ! Can I request something with Yusuf, please ? like a sort of fluff argument, where he and the reader argue to know which city is the most beautiful, Florence or Istanbul, and they end the argument by a kiss ? thank you ! ;)

Gah! All done! I hope you enjoy reading it!

And no, thank you for wanting more Yusuf!!

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: After all this time has Ivar finally caught his wife's trail?

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Anyone working under the delusion that Ivar would accept the fact that his wife had escaped him eventually learned that would not be the case.

His men had stopped their violent search of Kattegat, just as he had promised Bjorn, but he was still searching for her.

Even as the months went on to become nearly a full year.

(Y/N) had been missing for ten months, one week and four days, Ivar was keeping count of his lonely nights. Despite how the people talked he had not let Freydis warm his bed in his wife’s absence.

Instead he spent most of his days and nights in his war room, looking over all the maps of other cities and villages that Kattegat traded with the most. He was furious at the fact that there had been no news from any of his informants, and his relationship with his brothers did little to comfort him.

Bjorn was, as he expected, furious at his sending off warriors to such vital trading cities. He had shouted himself nearly blue when he’d arrived at Ivar’s estate; of course he let the King do his whining and even allowed him to smash his war table in his tantrum, because to him none of it mattered.

His ships had sailed, his warriors deployed and there was nothing to be done about it; not by Bjorn or even himself. Hvitserk, like he always had, chose to remain neutral in the argument. Ubbe was clearly on Bjorn’s side, but unlike Bjorn, Ubbe seemed to understand why he had acted so hastily even if he disapproved of the actions.

Currently Ubbe was the only one of his brothers who had friendly conversations with him, and Ivar would never be able to express how much he appreciated the company in these hard months.

‘Still no news?’ Ubbe asked as they both sat on the beach and watched a merchant ship approach.

‘Nearly a hundred spies and no good news.’ Ivar sighed.

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

‘My spies reported at last that they had a difficult time keeping track of (Y/N) in my time away, she would leave town alone around midday…and would not return home until nearly sunset.’ Ivar confessed, laying back in the sand and covering his eyes.

Ubbe felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he was not sure how much information Ivar truly had on the subject they were discussing.

‘You think she had an affair?’

‘I do not know, that is what tortures me brother. Not knowing things has always angered me, and now it seems I know less than ever. I don’t know if she was unfaithful, I don’t know where she is; all I know is she isn’t here.’

Ubbe had such conflicting feelings battling in his chest as he watched a few easy to miss tears roll down his brother's face. He was relieved to not have been discovered as (Y/N)’s lover, but still he was upset to see his brother in pain and know he was at least partially responsible for it.

‘If you think she was unfaithful why continue the search? Let go of your devotions and remarry, you have no obligations to her.’

'Why would I ever think such a thing?' Ivar asked, his anger visibly raising.

‘I will not let go, Ubbe.’ Ivar said as he sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

‘Not of her, not my marriage and not my anger. I will find her and she will answer every question I have.’

‘But what if you don’t find her? So far it has been nearly a year and you have had no progression in your search. It pains me to see you destroying yourself and your reputation for one woman you can replace so easily.’

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

‘She can’t be replaced, not by Freydis or any woman in this world. She feared me Ubbe, do you understand that? From the day we stepped into that insignificant Christian kingdom, she looked at an army and still she feared me the most out of them.’

‘Ivar, every woman you have spoken to fears you. It would be impossible to find a woman in Kattegat you did not terrify.’

‘I know that, but how many of them would be brave enough to marry someone as vicious as me? How many would make that sacrifice? She could have stayed quiet and let any of those women be dragged away, but she stepped forward. Those Christian men offered her up like a lamb for sacrifice and still she wanted them to live, and was even smart enough to know how to play my mind games.’ Ivar explained.

‘How could I replace a woman like that, a woman that brave, who fears a filthy cripple like me?’

Ubbe sighed and stood up, looking out at the sea and saw that the ship was nearly at the docks, but he decided he could offer his younger brother some advice.

‘You shouldn’t want her to fear you, Ivar. How can anyone love what they fear?’

Ivar looked taken aback, as if he’d never considered not terrifying his wife, but instead of responding he turned his focus over to the ship crew that was unloading the boat.

‘I don’t see how he thought he was secretive?’ one of the men said casually as he helped to dock the ship.

‘He’s young, he’s never smuggled a damn thing and it shows,’

Ivar’s ears perked up upon hearing this conversation and he quickly called the two merchants over; abandoning his own chat with Ubbe.

The two men looked over at the princes curiously; as they had not been aware of the chaotic search for the Christian nun that had occurred while they were at sea.

‘Prince Ivar, Prince Ubbe.’ one of them greeted and the other nodded in agreement.

‘I’m happy that the Gods brought you all back to us, I would like to treat your crew to a small feast on my estate in the next fortnight.’ Ivar said cheerily.

Ubbe quickly understood the game Ivar was playing and he decided he wanted no part in it at all.

He bid his brother a less than polite goodbye and left the two men to Ivar’s manipulation.

A feast for a simple unimportant ship crew was unheard of, especially a feast given by a prince. It would have been considered a great sign of disrespect to decline his hospitality.

The two men thanked Ivar for his unwarranted kindness and went to let the others know that they would all, along with their families, be expected at the youngest Prince’s estate.

Ivar watched the ship crew discuss their surprising treat and he pulled himself up onto his crutches and began to walk back to the markets.

As he limped along his way he subtly motioned for one of his spies, a thrall working outside of the butcher’s stand, to walk along side him.

Obediently the man followed the wordless order and matched Ivar’s pace.

‘Everyone under my purse is to watch the men on the merchant ship that just docked. Every man is to be followed for the next fortnight. I will expect daily reports if anyone fails to report even one hour of their actions I will have them hung.’ Ivar said strictly not looking at the man at all.

As he had wished, his warning went a long way in getting the results he wanted. He received reports in the crewmens’ every action, he’d even gotten reports describing their trips into the woods to relieve themselves.

Still no news of his wife or of what the two men suspected a crew mate of smuggling, but Ivar was sure that this was the right ship.

He had discovered the ship had sailed off the morning after (Y/N) had vanished.

Ivar tasked his thralls with preparing for the feast and he was impressed with how well they had performed.

By the night his feast was set to happen he had large tables sat outside under a cloudless starlit sky and there were heaps of fine dishes and mead as well as wine from England.

The crewmen were all in awe of the extravagant show of hospitality and everyone gave him their thanks in person.

Ivar mingled among them and was pleased that the news of his wife's disappearance had become common knowledge to all of the men.

‘May I speak with you Prince Ivar?’ one of the men asked as he approached the high table.

Ivar was quick to recognize the man as one of the men he’d spoken to on the beach.

‘Of course come with me.’

With a great amount of control Ivar calmly led the man into his home away from the festivities.

‘What would you like to discuss?’ the prince asked.

‘Forgive my intruding, but I have heard of your wife’s disappearance, and I- I think I have some information to give.’ I asked.

This was what Ivar had planned; to give the crew such a grand feast that at least one man would be grateful enough to betray one another.

‘Please, I would owe you an unimaginable debt if you could help me find my wife.’ Ivar said cunningly.

‘I can’t be sure if it was your wife, all I know is that Amund had someone in that crate. We more experienced in smuggling saw him speaking with it, sliding his rations into it even.’ the old man said.

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

‘Yes, big crate, it could easily fit one person, maybe even two.’

‘Two?’ Ivar said, feeling his grip on his crutch tighten in his anger.

She’d had an affair and ran off with some nobody; she’d decided weeks locked in a crate with another man was better than the rest of her life with him.

‘You said this man’s name was…?’ Ivar questioned, struggling to keep his anger hidden.

‘Amund, strong boy; he went ahead of the rest of us and the first thing off the boat was the crate.’

Ivar took in all this information, trying to piece together what all this implied and he determined he needed more to work with.

‘Tell me, what happened after the merchandise was unloaded. Did he hide the crate?’

‘No, the crate was in the assigned room when we all brought in the rest, still nailed shut too. The Earl granted us his hospitality to rest after our journey.’

Again Ivar was silent, trying very hard to picture in his mind what could have happened. If (Y/N) was in the crate and this Amund was the one responsible for getting her out why did he leave it sealed?

‘Big enough for two…’ he mused, thinking that if there was a man strong enough inside with her he could break out of the crate with her then she could have escaped with him.

‘Was this crate ever damaged, or moved?’ he asked the crewman.’

‘No, at least not to my knowledge, but the journey had been harder on my body than usual in my advanced age. When the Earl offered us rest I rested, but I did hear rumors.’ the man continued.

‘Rumors?’

‘The merchants spoke of one of our crewmen walking into the Great Hall carrying an unconscious woman. I never saw her, but she was the topic of much gossip while we restocked the ship.’

‘Did anyone on your ship see this woman, even a glimpse of her?’

‘I can not say with certainty, I can only say that Amund smuggled someone out of Kattegat.’

The anger for the old man’s lack of knowledge was red hot and only cooled by his relief of finally having a lead.

Thank you for telling what you could, please enjoy the feast with your family. It is a celebration in the honor of you and all traders like you, what would our world look like without brave men like you all.’ the prince complimented as he dismissed the man.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Freydis, silent as death, immerged from the shadows of the dim lit room.

‘Spread the word, I want this man, Amund identified, and followed. He shouldn’t be able to sneeze without me knowing when and where.’ Ivar ordered, his voice much harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes for him to let down his guard and let the information slip.’

While Ivar’s spies began to focus on Amund, all the way in Denmark, (Y/N) was adapted into her new life.

In the first week of her new life as a thrall she quickly realized two things.

The first was that the life of a nun and the life of a thrall was eerily similar in many regards. An older, more hardened and experienced woman would assign tasks to her and then would judge if the task was completed correctly and met her standards. If she did well she would be given another, often more challenging task, but if it did not meet Hilda’s standards there was punishment.

It was a rare occasion when (Y/N) was on the receiving end of Hilda’s wrath, which was why her punishments always seemed so harsh in comparison to the other girls.

The second thing was that, even despite the hatred the head thrall clearly had for her, she greatly preferred the life of a thrall over the life she had fled from.

Sure the shed the thralls all shared was cold and hardly much of a shelter at all but she slept fine knowing she wouldn’t wake up to Ivar’s rage.

And even better she found other Christians among the women she now shared status with.

It felt as if she had been welcomed into a new church, even if it had only been a small circle consisting of three women of various ages.

There was Kendra, the youngest being only around nineteen who had been captured and sold from York. Dawn was in her mid thirties and was a cook, she had never said where she was from originally, just that she had been only thirteen when she became the old cook’s apprentice. Finally there was Megan who was closer to (Y/N)’s age being twenty four, she was originally from Essex.

After two years of hiding her faith from her tyrannical husband, praying amongst others was euphoric. Holding hands in prayer was what she looked forward to most when she awoke at first light.

Every morning she would be awakened by Hilda whacking a wooden stick against the walls of the shed from outside before the doors of the shed were thrown open.

‘Get up! Work to be done!’ she boomed unnecessarily.

It was common knowledge that anyone still laying down by the time the doors opened would not only be promptly hit with the stick but they also would get no first meal.

The term meal was used loosely, it was only gr Rx bone broth and uncooked crops or, if they were so lucky, scraps from feasts.

Today’s meal was bone broth and carrots, after receiving her portion (Y/N) went to the corner with her small group and they shared a brief prayer over your meal before eating quickly.

‘What is your chore list today Kendra?’ she asked the youngest.

‘Caring for the Earl’s stock.’ was the answer she was given.

‘Be sure you give the chickens enough, the last few we’ve cooked were more feathers than meat.’ Dawn sighed.

‘I will be…preparing for a visitor.’ Megan said quietly, hardly touching her small meal.

At this all of them went silent.

Megan was often used as a cleaning girl around the great hall, but on the rare occasion that the Earl had important company she was a bed warmer.

It was a truly horrible fate for any woman but it seemed to be an especially cruel task for a Christian.

Every night before Hilda came in to order everyone to sleep they all joined hands in a silent prayer, but even still it was obvious Megan only prayed for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

(Y/N) reached out and took Megan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘God knows your heart and he knows your mind and spirit. He knows what sins you choose to commit and he knows the sins done against you. He will always forgive your sins and in time he will punish those who have sinned you.’ she encouraged.

Megan held onto the hand that she had been offered. Of course all the women of this small congregation were close, but Megan had such a strong connection and admiration for (Y/N).

The lie that Amund had told the Earl was widely believed and widely discussed in the markets. Meaning it was well known that (Y/N) was a runaway bed warmer herself.

It was for this reason that Megan looked at (Y/N) such wonder and great respect. In her unknowing eyes (Y/N) had done the impossible; escaped a lifetime of being nothing but a common whore for Pagans.

‘Hurry up you dogs! There's work to be done and if even one task isn’t completed then no one eats tonight!’ Hilda’s voice boomed.

Realizing that she hadn’t been focusing on her already cooling broth (Y/N) quickly drank the remaining liquid in the wooden bowl and stuck her carrots into her skirts.

Hopefully she would get a moment to sneak away and eat them before nightfall, if not then she would give it away to a beggar.

They all arose and set out to their assigned work locations.

Hilda sent a glare of pure malice at (Y/N) as she passed her on the way out of the shed.

‘If I hear so much as a word against you from the healers I’ll have you flogged.’ the old haggish woman warned.

‘Yes Hilda.’ (Y/N) replied, the air of respect and responsibility in her tone before she went on.

She had been assigned as a healer’s apprentice due to her telling the Earl she had some experience in that field of work.

Her days were spent gathering herbs and roots, mixing and brewing, occasionally there will be a person who is injured or falls so ill they need physical care and when that happens she would be the one to give them care. She would clean them, try to close up or disinfect their wounds and feed them remedies.

Today when she entered the healer’s hut she was met with the now familiar scent of living rotting flesh.

‘Girl.’ the healer, an old ragged woman named Skadi, called to her from the table where she was laying out her supplies.

‘Who is it?’ the thrall asked as she approached.

‘One of the Earl’s blacksmiths; got his foolish self cut and didn’t think to clean the sore.’

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

‘No, but he’ll survive.’ Skadi said sadly as she placed her necessary materials on a tray.

There were ropes to tie off the blood flow and restrain him, a leather strap to keep the man from biting off or swallowing his tongue, and a red hot ax in order to both remove the limb and cauterize the wound.

You hated doing this but it was necessary, the hut stunk with infection but it didn’t smell of death quite yet.

The man was older, maybe forty but clearly he’d lived a hard life to reach that age. He was quiet but his chest was heaving as if he had been fighting for each breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his head was turned away from his rotting hand.

It truly was disgusting to see a hand that mangled. The wound was still open, but no longer bleeding leaving an open gash caked in blackened blood and crusted puss.

She went about tying him down, making sure to be extra precise when restraining the arm that would soon be handless.

This was how she spent her days, in the hut with the sick and injured. It was a far cry from her old life in Kattegat. She was no longer a prince’s wife that was tended to by a full staff of thralls. Now she was herself thrall and she was called upon to do hard, truly hard, work and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the hut for the day (Y/N) found herself exhausted but hopeful that the man would be ok once he was rested.

As she made her way back to the shed she chomped on the carrots she had stored away from breakfast, thankful to have them at least in case someone really didn’t finish their chores and no one was given dinner tonight.

It was as she finished her last carrot that something compelled her to look over at the beach as she neared the shed.

There was a ship, of course there was a ship at the beach; where else would a ship be if not at sea. That wasn’t what made her stop in her tracks, it was undoubtedly a Kattegat ship.

By no means was (Y/N) an expert on such things but after two years she could single out Floki’s handiwork from any other boat builder.

Those sails, the dragon figurehead…that was not a merchant ship.

With her heart racing she hurried into the shed and huddled into the corner where she slept, but she did not lay down.

She just sat with her hands fiddling with the threads of her skirts, as she thought back to the morning conversation she’d had.

A visitor, an important enough visitor to be offered a bed warmer.

How had she not thought to ask who this visitor was? She prayed with all her heart that it wasn’t Ivar, but there was no way to be sure.

No, Ivar couldn’t know which boat you snuck onto, even if he did he wouldn’t just devote himself to hunting you.

At least not personally.

Ivar was a prince of a wealthy kingdom, as well as a respected warlord in his own right. What man would dare to disobey him if he ordered them to find you.

Everything was hitting her all at once.

She would have to leave tonight…run until she made it to the next town.

With what? No food, supplies or weapons to protect yourself? This wasn’t like the cold journey to Floki’s that last night. This would be a three day trip by foot. Not to mention it was no longer winter. It was spring and roads would be busy and therefore dangerous. A woman in rags traveling alone was little more than an invitation for a rapist on his way.

It wasn’t ideal by any means but it was either risk the dangers of the road or stay and be turned over to Ivar by whatever man Ivar had sent after her.

‘(Y/N), you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Kendra said as she sat beside her.

‘Not to be dramatic, but it feels as if I have.’

[rreader]

I begun to play at Skyrim this Christmas and I loved it (and I forgot it at my parent's home, sadness), I loved the sassiness of Marcurio 😂

asdfghjkl oh my god, I hope you’ll get it back soon!

but yeah, I feel you. it’s an amazing game and one that has so much replay value..

[poeticmasochist]

[aftgficrec]

Hello! I'm new in the fandom, and i'd like to know if you have any renee and allison fics? I love your other recs!

Welcome to the fandom!  And, you’re in luck, because we have some fantastic Renison to recommend!  You can find some previously recommended high school aus here, angsty Renison here, and below are some happier options, involving falling in love, coming out, and being sweet girlfriends together.  Hope you enjoy!  -F

Armour, Warpaint and the Lies We Tell by CurvedYellowFruit, DeyaAmaya, ttamiao [Rated M, 20590 words, Complete 2020, AFTG Big Bang]

A slow-burn (-ish) exploration of how the Renison relationship develops from friends to lovers post-canon, how they each come out (to each other and to the Foxes), and how they put aside all their baggage to negotiate a healthy relationship together.

(tw: internalized biphobia, tw: biphobia)

NB: art for this fic by @andreil-minyasten is here, and by @ttamiao is here. 

Losing all my senses (when you pull me close) by blisscotton [Rated: Not Rated, 3288 words, Complete 2020]

Allison and Renee coming out to the Foxes while dancing at Eden's Twilight.

(or just an au with allison and renee dancing as the sexy couple they're)

I'm Young and In Love by elenawrites [Rated: T, 1942 words, Complete 2017]

Allison's pining over the cute girl at the coffee shop. Dan finds it hilarious. Renee notices everything. For reneewalkerx for the tfcfemslashnet exchange, title from Lana Del Rey's 'Love'.

she's gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair by emmerrr [Rated T, 1066 words, Complete 2017, Locked Fic]

“Why the ever-loving shit did I think it was a good idea to go running with Kevin and Neil this morning?”

Renee dropped her eyes back to her book and turned a page. “I’m pretty sure Kevin implied he was faster than you. And I’m pretty sure you were determined to prove him wrong.”

“Oh yeah. That was it.”

[ben-mendelsohn-trash]

When it will be done, can you make a one fic with this ben dinner ? Thanks ;)

I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean xP

[imaginepirates]

Second Choice

Eeeeek! I'm so sorry to everyone who requested drabbles and the time it took me to write them. I'm very sick and it's hard for me to focus on anything. That being said, the last of the requests are done!

This is an angsty James x Reader where the reader is put in an arranged marriage with him. She feels like it will be a loveless marriage, but he grows on her over time. For @elenawrit. Also, this one's long.

~3550 words

~~~~~~~

          You were a second choice.

          It was the one thought you couldn't get out of your mind. Marriage was supposed to be something special, something that would make you happy. But you hadn't even had a choice. Your parents had managed to arrange a marriage between you and a naval officer from the Caribbean you hadn't even met.

          It wasn't fair. Rumors about his return to London spread like wildfire. Some said that he had been spurned by a girl he loved, while others said they'd been secret lovers before their separation. Everyone seemed to agree that there had been a girl. And now you were marrying him. You were a second choice.

          You dreaded meeting him; surely people would talk, and talk was the last thing you wanted. Sitting alone in your room before the banquet where you were to meet your future husband, you felt used and betrayed. How could your parents do this to you? They said it was a favor, that you should be grateful. You were not grateful.

          He couldn't want it either, his heart belonging to another woman. The marriage had been arranged between your parents and his mother. If you were both opposed to the bond, perhaps you could escape. However inviting the prospect, though, it wasn't likely.

          A servant rushed into your room, announcing it was time for your appearance in the dining room. You stood from your bed, smoothing your dark skirts. Your dress was navy blue, embroidered with gold patterns. It was meant to compliment your husband-to-be's uniform. A single sapphire sat on your neck, dark and backed with silver.

          The entire outfit had been a donation from your fiance's mother. She lived comfortably, but she lived alone, and said she had little use for the great sums of money left to her by her late husband. She gave you money for new clothes, and though your family had been mortified, your only solace was in her kindness.

          She was a tall, pale widow. Though she wasn't all that old, most of her hair had gone grey. She was a pleasant sort of woman, though you could sense a core of steel inside her. You'd met with her a few times, and you'd enjoyed each. If everything else failed, you could at least have her as a friend.

          Rather sickly, you grabbed the banister with one hand. The stairs would descend to the front room, and you would enter the dining room from there with your father. Doubtless he awaited you at the bottom of the staircase.

          You sucked in a deep breath before starting down the stairs. You might have felt almost regal in your finery had you not known what it was for. By the time you reached the bottom, you thought your corset would kill you.

          Perhaps you should have been an actress. The smile you gave your father had apparently looked genuine, as he smiled back. The floor felt like it was dropping from underneath you. When you took your father's arm, you walked on nothing but empty space.

          The door to the dining room opened and the illusion dissipated. You walked across the floor to take your seat. Everyone else was already there; your fiance's mother smiled at you from her seat as your own mother beamed.

          Tentatively, you let your eyes wander to the stranger sitting across from you. He couldn't have been that much older than you were. It surprised you; every captain you'd met had easily been in their thirties. This man was hardly a year over twenty. His grey eyes met yours briefly, and he gave you a sad sort of smile that made him seem much more human than the cold man you'd imagined.

          Introductions were made. His name was James. You gave him yours, but after that, you were left to yourself. Your mother conversed with his, and your father began talking to James before you had a chance.

          Dinner finished, though you hardly noticed. You'd retreated within yourself, as if nobody else existed. And it was just as well they hadn't. Nobody spoke to you or played you much mind, though you noticed James glancing at you from time to time. You noted how each of his smiles to your father had been forced.

          You walked with James to his awaiting carriage after the table was cleared.

          Nothing about the night had reassured you. You hadn't even gotten to talk with James. How on earth were you expected to marry him?

          Within the next week, your families decided to have you meet again. Ms. Norrington planned to host a ball. The function was meant to get you and James together as much as it was to celebrate his return home.

          You went, stepping out of your carriage to be helped by James himself. He looked dashing, you had to admit. There was something about him that caught the eye.

          Despite your visits to his mother, you hadn't seen the ballroom. Its tall windows allowed a view of the night sky unparalleled by any room you'd ever been in. You could have stood beneath them forever if you had the chance.

          Warm light cascaded across the room, though the sides were shrouded in shadow. There, people gossiped, and groups of visitors formed closed rings. A chandelier reflected the light into patterns across the walls. The space was pleasantly open, allowing some heat to escape the crowded area.

          There were so many people; you couldn't imagine James knew them all. His mother hardly seemed to, either. She spoke with a group of officers, playing the part of the gracious host. You wondered how much she was actually enjoying herself under her deceptive smile.

          James had hold of your arm, but you'd never felt more alone. The closed-off groups of people made you feel outside the social group. You were some foreigner, an exotic paraded on the arm of a young captain.

          You hardly had it in you to look at James during the first dance. He said nothing, and his formality felt almost cold. He might have been a good dancer had he not been so stiff. There was a slight space between you that shouldn't have been. Young couples were expected to enjoy themselves. Neither of you were.

          You couldn't blame him. You, too, were uncomfortable. You felt eyes on the back of your head, and you could practically hear people's whispers behind your back. There was no doubt James sensed it too.

           Between dances, James avoided conversing with others. When he was dragged into discussion, he looked far away. Perhaps he retreated into himself as you did.

          Everything felt unreal. You floated above the proceedings, watching it all with a bird's eye view. You weren't really in your body, were you? Even when James escorted you to the refreshments table, you didn't feel your feet moving the rest of you.

          Once there, James seemed to wilt. Most people were dancing, and nobody was around to see his posture droop ever so slightly. You felt the same, though you didn't dare show it. Not that your corset would let you.

         He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry for my distance tonight," he said.

          "It's quite alright. I find myself rather rigid as well."

          "I figured you might." He smiled, or rather, he pressed his lips together. There was no warmth behind it.

          You couldn't come up with anything else to say. Not that there was much. Every possible conversation would be uncomfortable.

          You danced again. The space between you was beginning to feel normal. All his other words were strictly for propriety's sake. You began to realize that marriage would be the loneliest time of your life.

          And it would be the rest of your life.

          What little hope was buried deep in your breast dissipated. There was nothing awaiting your future but a stiff man who didn't want your company. A loveless marriage.

          The night made you despair, if anything. Once home again, you were left with a sense of impending doom, lying abed alone. You didn't sleep until the early hours of the morning, hopelessness sitting on your breast like a great black vulture sent to pick at the strings of your heart.

          You met with James at other social events. It gave you little opportunity to get to know each other. People constantly tried to ask you questions, and James was harrassed even more frequently. All the time you spent together was supervised. With others imposing, you hardly said two words to each other on any given occasion.

          Not that you'd talk if you were alone. There were a few chances for you to be together unbothered, like during a garden party. The two of you were allowed to walk together, and you managed to avoid interception. Even then, you weren't talkative.

          Despite the lack of conversation, you began noticing things. James wasn't aloof as you expected; he was tired, sad, and frayed. You realized that he had little energy for social situations to begin with, and each encounter left him exhausted.

          He was one of the most non-threatening men you knew. He never made any sort of advance, nor did he do something unless he knew you were okay with it. It was a long time before he had enough confidence to guide you with a hand on the small of your back, something other men had done moments after meeting you.

          You also made note that eye contact was everything with him. After two weeks, you could understand anything he needed to convey just by looking at his eyes. Often, he looked sorry, like he was trying to apologize without words. Most times, he just looked sad.

          He occasionally gave your hand a squeeze. It was his way of reassuring you. It was the most endearing thing he did for you, and you hung onto it like a promise. A promise that you were equally miserable.

          After a time, James' mother decided it would be good for the two of you to meet alone. You weren't sure whether to be relieved or afraid.

          A date was set for you to have tea at James' house. You went with a slight sense of foreboding. The meeting would likely be awkward and hold nothing to make you feel any better.

         You arrived via carriage, and James helped you to the ground, ever the gentleman. He led you inside, his mother waiting at the door. The estate was more peaceful than you remembered. The last time you'd been was the ball, when it had been crowded with strangers. Now, the high windows let light fill the emptiness, and the entire building felt like a hollow shell.

         Passing the ballroom, the large windows let cold light stream across the floor. You imagined the ghosts of partygoers dancing to faint music.

          You were lead onward to a sitting room you recognized from the time you'd spent with James' mother. She went off to fetch tea, and you took a seat across from James.

          Between you was a small table. James produced a set of cards and motioned to you. "I'm afraid you won't find me a worthy opponent. I haven't had much practice," he said.

          "Don't worry." You smoothed out your dress. "I'm rubbish at cards."

           He chuckled, shuffling the deck with deft fingers. For being bad at cards, he certainly knew how to use them.

          He must have noticed your look. "I played with my father. Shuffling is all I can remember how to do."

          Tea was brought. It was good, but it did little to quell the anxiety in your stomach. You played well into the evening. It seemed you were equally awful at cards; you simply took turns losing.

          There was a pained expression in James' face you couldn't quite place. His mouth opened and closed again, as if he were going to speak. After a long stretch of his doing so, he began.

          The cards gave you an excuse to not look at each other while talking. "I'm sorry." James stared at his cards, but you knew he wasn't seeing them.

          "I'm sure you are." You hadn't meant to sound so harsh.

          He set his cards down and massaged his temples. "I know what you've heard. If it's any solace at all, I never had a chance with her."

          You remained silent, lips pursed.

          "I'm not doing a very good job of this, am I?" He looked so pained, you almost wanted to sympathize. "You don't deserve this," he whispered.

          When you glanced up, he looked you in the eye. He dropped his gaze back down to his cards before closing his eyes entirely.

          "Is there no way out for us?" You were afraid of how desperate you sounded.

          "No." James, too, sounded strangled. "Mother believes the marriage necessary to clear my name of rumors, and I'm sure you have less of a choice than I do."

          You sat up straighter in your chair, breathing in deeply. "I suppose that's that. Can you resign yourself to marrying me?"

          "Can you?" He set his cards face down on the table as if you were still playing. Gently, he took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. "I would never ask this of you. I would never ask this of anyone."

          "Even her?"

          He laughed, dipping his head, but it came out weak and sad. "No, not even her." He took a breath and looked up at you again. "Sometimes it's better to let go of the people you love. For both of you."

          You nodded. Hot tears teased your eyes, threatening to spill out over your cheeks. "I wish we had met differently." You couldn't manage anything more than a whisper.

          James still had your hand in his. With his other, he wiped a tear from your cheek. "As do I."

          The meeting gave you hope. James was a soft man, you realized. He cared for you. It made your chest ache. Under different circumstances, you might have loved him.

          The weeks wore on. You continued to meet James for tea. Your meetings grew less awkward as you grew more familiar. To your great surprise and delight, James had a wonderful sense of humor. You began to enjoy your time with him.

          It made you feel guilty, in a way, like you were betraying yourself. You couldn't ever hope to have his love. Why pretend?

          And yet with each kiss pressed to your knuckles upon departing from his company, you found yourself enjoying the press of his lips to your skin more and more.

          You occasionally held hands as you had on that first night. Sometimes, you traced his palm with your fingers. The action was strangely calming.

          The first time he kissed you, you were both laughing over the latest bit of news from London. Somebody had thrown an egg at a politician unfortunately known for his ineptitude.

You sat directly next to each other; which was a bit improper; to read the news together. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple as you laughed. You felt all the heat rush to your face, and he hadn't done much better. His blush crept up from his neck; you watched it stretch from his cravat to his ears.

          "Forgive me," he said. "I was too forward."

          It was a bold move indeed, but you assured him you didn't mind.

          From then on, he sometimes kissed your forehead. When he felt particularly bold, and when he knew he had your permission, he would lightly kiss your cheek. Each one elicited a fond feeling in your chest.

          The longer time went on, the more you liked James. He liked you, too, and you noticed the little gestures he made to show it. He wasn't a loquacious man, instead squeezing your hand or running a thumb over your knuckles. Sometimes his affection was shown through a kiss that lasted longer than it needed to.

You found yourself thinking that you might not mind the prospect of being married to James. Life could go on, and he would exist as a gentle presence and kind companion.

          Duty, however, at some point must call. James was called off to sea by the navy, now stationed in England. When you saw him off, you pressed a feathery kiss to his cheek.

          "Come back," you said. Truth be told, you were concerned for him.

           He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "Of course."

          You missed him in his absence. His laughter, his humor, his touch. The gentle way in which his presence soothed you. How he listened to you. How thoughtful he was about things. With him gone, you felt acute loneliness. You hadn't realized the amount of time you'd been spending together.

          And then, twenty-three days later, when the ship came back to port, he didn't step off the deck onto the cobbles. Someone approached your father, who stood beside you, but you heard nothing. You stared at the ship and feared the worst.

          You were ushered to a room in the ship. Gurneys lined the walls. James' mother was already there, talking with a man that was likely a doctor.

          Another man stood in the shadows, face obscured. Even so, there was no question who he was.

          Upon seeing him, you could have cried. "James!" You practically ran to his side.

          A bandage covered his shoulder, and his arm was tucked into a sling. Once in front of him, you didn't know what to do. You let one hand rest on his chest, the other cupping his cheek.

          "Why don't we let them have a moment alone?" James' mother ushered your parents out of the room.

          Once alone, you ran your thumb across his cheek. "I was afraid for you," you admitted. "And now..." You moved your hand from his chest to lightly brush over the bandages.

          "I'll heal."

          "That's not what I'm worried about."

           You stood together, just staring. Then, you wrapped your arms about his waist and rested your head on his uninjured shoulder.

His intake of breath was audible. Slowly, as if he was afraid to do so, his good arm came to rest on your back, his hand in your hair. Your heart fluttered as you felt him pull you closer. He buried his face in your hair, and you felt the kiss he pressed to the top of your head.

          "I thought of you," he croaked. "Lying abed all those days."

          You grabbed at the back of his uniform, twisting your hands into the fabric. You told yourself you would not cry.

          "It was a comfort," he breathed, "to think of you."

          You couldn't help the tears streaming down your face. James must've heard your crying; he pulled away to wipe tears from your cheeks. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your neck.

          He rested his forehead against yours. You didn't dare look at him, afraid if what you might find. You would not let yourself hope. But when he kissed your closed eyes with a feather-light touch, you sighed.

          "I'm sorry." James pulled away just enough to search your face.

          You let out a shaky laugh. "For what?"

          "For frightening you."

          "You've always frightened me," you confessed. "Now, you just do it in a different way." Seeing James' confusion, you reassured him with a light kiss to the cheek. "I used to be afraid of marrying you." Heat rushed to your face. "Now, I'm afraid because I care about you."

          His hand moved from your cheek, his finger now tracing your lower lip. He swallowed, and it dawned on you that he was nervous. You gripped the front of his shirt, and you found your eyes resting on his lips.

          His kiss was soft, but it set you on fire all the same. He was painstakingly gentle, and when your fingers found their way to his hair, he produced a sort of choke that made your stomach tingle.

          He broke the kiss for but a moment before leaning in again. You hardly had time to breathe before he was kissing you. It was deeper than the first, and your toes curled as James slid his hand to your back, pulling you against him.

          When he pulled away, you couldn't remember how to breathe. You managed a shuddering gasp without knowing how. You vaguely realized that the only thing keeping you on your feet was your hold on his shirt.

          "James?" You more felt his blush than saw it, but the heat radiated from his chest to his ears.

          He moved to hold you again. You welcomed the embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist and back, breathing in the scent of his uniform. You were careful not to touch his shoulder. Instead, you gazed at the bandages, fearing the first sign of blood coming through.

          "I'm glad," he said. "I'm glad it was you."

          You sighed contentedly into his chest. "And I you." You traced little patterns on his back. "I never thought it would be like this."

          "Nor did I."

          "James?" You looked up at him. "We're going to be okay."

[igotanaddixon]

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader (Request)

A/N: This one was requested by @elenawrit Something about Rex and his s/o after the war. It got angsty sorry! I don’t know if this is what you wanted but I’m in the mood for angst XD 

Words: 1492 

Tag List:  @luna-plena-venandi @teaand-cookies @curvestrology @robotxtrash @rowansparrow @zygerrian-slut @elenawrit @emmacata @oceanofmystery @beastlysoul @pinkieperil @rex-ol-boy @peacefulwizardfox @fxndxmxnxce @attemptingtowriteagain

Rex smiled as he watched you play with Suu and Cut’s children. It had been a long and stressful journey to reach Saleucami. The Republic had fallen and the Jedi were almost all dead, killed by the hands of Rex’s own brothers. It was like living his worst nightmare. Rex was on Mandalore with Ahsoka and (Y/N) when it happened and his choice had been made quickly. He saw his brothers drew their weapons, ready to shoot Ahsoka and (Y/N) and he shot first. Rex’s gaze fell to his hands. “Hands of a killer”, he thought before closing his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Rex.” Cut’s voice said from next to him. Rex opened his eyes again and gazed at Cut for a second before turning his eyes back to look at you and the kids.

“I shot my own brothers…” He breathed out, guilt gripping his heart.

“You did what you had to do.” Cut said. “We protect the ones we love. If you hadn’t shot first, your lover would be dead. Could you live with yourself knowing that she died by the hands of our brothers?” Cut asked, already knowing the answer as he saw Rex’s face contort in a painful rictus.

“I couldn’t. She’s the only reason I still want to live.”

Rex closed his eyes once again and like every time he closed his eyes, he saw Fives. He saw his face twist in pain, his skin paler than it used to be, his hair cut in a rushed way and the patch over the side of his head. “Rex... this... it's... bigger than any of us... than anything... I could've imagined... I never meant to... I only wanted to do my duty. The mission... the nightmares... they're... finally... over...."

Rex remembered his last words and he couldn’t help but think ‘I should have listened to you, brother.’ Fives died to warn him and General Skywalker, luckily, Rex had removed his chip in time but no one listened to him, no one listened to Fives.

From your spot before Cut’s house, sat on the ground with the two kids, you saw Rex and Cut deep in conversation. You knew how hard it was for Rex to deal with what happened on Mandalore. It was hard for you too but Rex had to choose between his brothers and you. A decision you knew to be painful for your captain. He loved his brothers and harming them in any way was his worst nightmare. Mostly after Umbara. You sighed as you got up from your spot and walked to join Rex and Cut. The two men looked up at you when you stopped in front of the small farm.

“Rex, may I talk with you for a minute?” You asked, extending your hand before you to help him up. Rex nodded with a small smile and took your hand.

You helped him up but he kept your hands in his as he led you away from the house. Rex’s hand was warm against yours and you intertwined your fingers with his as you walked quietly in the direction of a hill which gave you a beautiful view over the valley. The sun was setting, lighting the valley up with a soft and warm orange color. It was a beautiful and peaceful landscape after the devastated plains of Mandalore. You sat down on top of the hill and Rex sat next to you, hugging you close to his chest. You rested your head upon his shoulder and looked at the grasslands before you, making the most of that peaceful moment.

“I’m sorry Rex.” You started quietly, making him tense. “I’m sorry you had to… shoot your brothers for me. I wish I could have done something.”

Rex’s hand softly caressed your upper arm as he delicately kissed the top of your head. You closed your eyes, throat dry and swollen.

“This is not your fault, love. No one could have stopped this. It’s… bigger than any of us.” He breathed out, voice hoarse and deep. You knew what those words were. Fives last words…

“Fives was right.” You said and Rex simply nodded. A deep silence fell between the two of you as you simply watched the sunset, hearts heavy and melancholic.

                                     _*_

Morning came too quickly as you opened your eyes in Cut’s barn. Rex’s arms were still around you, keeping you close and warm. Your lover was still sleeping but his face wasn’t as peaceful as it used to be. You sighed and kissed his cheek softly, then his jaw, his chin, his lips, the tip of his nose and the man smiled as he woke up. His eyes fluttered open and his arms tightened around you. You shifted so you were laying entirely on him and kept on kissing his face making Rex chuckle deeply. Your stomach fluttered as you heard his deep morning voice say that he loved you.

“I love you too, Rex.” You whispered in his ear and kissed the angle of his jaw. Rex groaned and kissed your throat, going down slowly to reach your collarbone. You sighed in content and relax in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body pressed on yours.

You could feel a known heat rise in your lower stomach and you bit your lips. However, the sounds of children screaming and playing near the barn made you open your eyes and stop before it was too late. You chuckled and detached yourself from Rex – who protested tremendously – before finally getting dressed to leave the barn. Rex followed you outside, stretching and yawning. You watched him with flushed cheeks, you would never get used to it; seeing him in the morning, cute and so attractive in only his blacks and bare chest. You cleared your throat and tried to distract yourself but suddenly two kids threw themselves at you and hugged you. You laughed as Shaeeah and Jek dragged you and Rex inside the house for breakfast.

“We won’t be staying too long.” Rex said while chatting with Cut and Suu. “We don’t want to attract the empire here or put you and your family in danger.”

“The Empire doesn’t know you’re even alive, Rex. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, you know it.” Cut answered, trying to persuade his friend.

“And you are not a bother to us. We like the company.” Suu added, her accented voice gentle and welcoming.

“We know.” You said, looking gratefully at the Twi’lek woman. “But we have to meet with two friends. They also escaped after order 66.”

“Two brothers.” Rex told Cut and the man nodded in understanding.

“We need each other and us staying could really be dangerous for you.” You sighed as you watched the two siblings talk while eating their breakfast.

“We understand.” Cut agreed, smiling at you. “But where will you go?” You looked at Rex then held his hand over the table.

“We don’t know yet.” Rex admitted. “We have to find Wolffe and Gregor then we’ll find a place where the Empire can’t find us.”

“I wish Ahsoka had stayed with us…” You whispered, lost in your thoughts. Rex squeezed your hand then brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“Commander Tano will be fine. She’s strong and she still has a lot to do.” Your captain said, trying to reassure you. You nodded and finished you breakfast lost in your past. You swallowed with difficulties, ‘is it already my past?’ you thought bitterly.

After a few hours, Rex told Cut that it was time for you to go and you left the small family after long and difficult goodbyes. You didn’t know if you would see them again one day but you surely hopped you would. Rex and you arrived at your small ship, a Fang Fighter stolen to one of the Mandalorian protectors when you escaped the planet, and took off in silence. The trip wasn’t too long before you reached a portion of space in the Outer Rim. There, you found Wolffe and Gregor’s ship and docked to it. Rex got up from the pilot seat and took your hand before walking out of the fighter to meet Wolffe and Gregor.

The air was tensed between the three troopers and the Jedi, you could feel the desperation irradiate from the men and you were as lost as them. You didn’t know what to do as you sat next to Rex around the round Dejarik game table. You didn’t know what to say, what to do or where to go. Everything you knew, everyone you knew was either dead or on the run like you were. For the first time in your life, the Force wasn’t there to guide you and you felt lost.

“Now what?” Wolffe’s voice suddenly said over the uncomfortable silence.

‘Yes…” You thought. ‘Now what?’

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I hope that you liked it guys!!