#ivar friends to enemies

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Introduction/Part One

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, (future) Bjorn

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Word Count: 2445

Warnings: time travel being possible, bullying, getting chased by some very confused vikings, imprisonment

Masterlist Here

"Cmon Jason. Give it a rest," you heard one of his friends tell him, but you were already crossing the bridge to get away from them.

You'd came to the park after school to relax after yet another hellish day of studying. You were a history student, obsessed with the Vikings, and sadly for some reason Jason's enemy number one. Apparently, the frat boy still held a grudge for the time you rejected him last year and decided to make your life a misery.

As you were halfway across the bridge you heard laughing then footsteps and just as you went to turn you felt him grab your bag off your shoulder. Well, he tried. You grabbed it back, yelling "help!" As his other friend tried to help him pull it away. 

You glanced behind you to see if anyone was near but no. You were alone of the bridge 6 feet at least above the deep lake. "Dude!" You heard the friend again as your head whipped back around.

"fine!" Jason yelled as he let go of the bag just as you had attempted to tug it from him. "Wait no!" You heard his voice before you felt the wood dig into your back and then heard a sickening snap.

You screamed as you felt the wind rush past your face, hair whipping around as your body hurtled headfirst towards the water. You felt your head sink in and the water ring in your ears like church bells as your eyes screwed up tight.

You waited for your head to crash against the rocks but instead felt your legs hit the soft ground, your butt and shoulders soon following. Your head hit the ground gently as a groan left your lips. As your eyes opened you realised not only did you feel no water or soggy clothing but that a scattered sunlight was washing over your face. 

"What the-" you muttered as you sat up. Your guitar bag was still clutched in one hand, your backpack hooked around your elbow, and now your earphones had been tossed behind you during the fall. That however did not concern you as much as the overwhelming greenery.

The Forrest around you had winding trees up to the sky with whispers of squirrels and rabbits in the background. You pulled yourself to your feet as your eyes scanned the woods. "Where am I?" You muttered as you grabbed your headphones and shoved them in your bag. 

You checked your phone however there was not only no signal but now the time had become dashes alongside the battery percentage. The Wi-Fi and Bluetooth signals were now just colourful blobs and even when you tried opening the emergency number call it refused to let you punch in the digits. You sighed and turned it off, hoping that by the time you found your way out the Forrest it would have rebooted so you could call your parents or maybe even a hospital since you'd obviously hit your head very hard.

You put the phone in your bag and zipped it up, even using the number lock your mother insisted you put on it to keep your bag safe. You weren't sure which way to go. After all no matter where you walked you could either be going closer or further to whatever destination would be the safest.

Fuck it. You thought. There's only one way to find out. You walked through the forest, not even trying to not step on twigs or ruffle leaves since you were probably just far deeper into the campus woods than you'd ever been before. However, then you heard voices.

Well laughter really. At least three men. Your footsteps slowed encase Jason and his friends had somehow made you lose your mind and we're torturing you but no. Instead, you held back a gasp as you peaked through the leaves to see four men with their backs to you.

One was sat on a log playing with what looked like a dagger while another two practised throwing axes. Fuck. All three were dressed as if they were Vikings. Perhaps you'd been studying them too much and had officially lost your marbles.

Or perhaps the other Viking nerds in your school had formed a club. As you debated taking a step forward one of the men missed his throw causing another to yell out a jab. As the man span round to answer his eyes stopped when he saw you. His hand shot out to nudge the man next to him who turned around.

He was a brunette man with a long braid down how back "I'm Ubbe," the boy called as he stepped forward, "Who are you? Why are you here?" He called however your eyes wandered down then widened as you saw him gripping his axe.

"Tell us!" The boy who had missed called, stepping closer. Your eyes wandered to the third who was reaching for something in his belt when you finally made up your mind.

Run. You turned, sprinting as fast as your legs could carry you. Your feet hammered against the dirt as their shouts echoed through the forest. You didn't dare glance back or stop for the branches whipping against your face. There was finally a break in the trees. Freedom. Safety you thought.

As you ran you arrived at the top of a hill. You turned to look down, expecting to see your campus when dread filled your blood. No this wasn't real. A village of Vikings now looked up at where you stood on the hill.

You stood for a moment panting as you overlooked it all. That was until you heard them again. "Stop right there!" Ubbe all but screamed. 

You ran again. To your left was a high cliff facing a grey blue ocean and to your right was 3 very angry looking Vikings. You decided to take your chances with the clueless as you barrelled down the hill into what looked to be like a market.

Despite being the least terrifying person here they all jumped out your way, gasping and screaming as you ran all while Ubbe and the others chased you. 

You were running towards a bridge by a stream and decided for one last second to glance behind you. They were just running around the corner when you felt a hand grab your foot as the other got swept up in the air.

It was as if your body took flight as you fell to the ground with a large thump. You groaned as you tried to pick yourself up just for a large hand to grab your shoulder and flip you on your back. 

As you stared at his electric blue eyes your own eyes widened. "Ivar?" You whispered and his eyes widened so much you wondered if it hurt however just as he went to speak Ubbe pulled him off him.

Ubbe. Your brain clicked. There's no possible way. It couldn't be. Surely not. Ubbes hand pulling you to your feet. "I asked you a question," he growled as you gasped for air. As much as you wanted to be tough and brave and all the other things these Vikings were being faced to face to Ubbe was too much as the spots began to cloud your vision and you felt your body fall limp as the world faded to black.

-

As you began to stir you half expected to open your eyes and see your dorm room, but the hard stick pressed against your spine made you doubtful. Your eyes opened to find yourself in a wooden cage in the corner of what looked like a bedroom. It was dark and suddenly felt very small as your hands grabbed the bars as you began to shake them.

“Fuck,” you grunted as you hit your hand against the frame but instead of it budging now your hand just hurt. Before you could try for any longer you froze when you saw the door slowly push open.

“I see what you mean,” a woman’s voice muttered as she approached your cage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her or the men behind her, “What is she wearing?” she whispered.

“We don’t know,”

“We found her like this,”

“Do you think she’s a witch?” you felt your blood run cold at the man’s word.

The woman stood up and turned to what you soon realised were her sons. In fact, now you realised who they all were. It was Sigurd who’d claimed you may be a witch but how could he possibly be real? He was a tv character after all.

“Perhaps but we cannot know for sure yet,” Aslaug whispered to her son, “Can you speak child?” she called out to you as if she was shouting on a dog. Your head raised so you could get a better look, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“What are we going to do?” Ubbe asked. As the four spoke amongst themselves you realised one was missing. Ivar was nowhere to be seen.

“Your father should be home any day now. We will wait for him,” Aslaug finally determined, “I have never seen someone like this. I do not wish to find out what harm she can cause alone,” with that the four turned to leave, shutting the door and leaving you in the stale dark once more.

You sighed as you leaned back against the cage however as your eyes scanned the room you noticed your bags sitting in the corner making your head instantly perk up. You knew you didn’t have anything sharp in it but as your stomach rumbled you realised what you did need. Food.

As you began to wonder how you would get to your things you heard the door crack open. You looked up as Ivar dragged himself into the room, constantly checking over his shoulder before he shut the door and brought himself over to your cage. His eyes scanned your frame as you brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly.

“Who are you?” he murmured, his eyes landing on your face, “and how do you know my name?” the silence that followed was only broken by the loud rumble of your stomach once more as you winced. “You’re hungry?” he asked.

Finally, you nodded, and a smile quirked onto his lips, “So you do understand?” you nodded again, “If you tell me who you are I’ll bring you something to eat,”

You paused as you decided if it was worth breaking the façade, you’d created but as your stomach churned you realised starving to death before Ragnar returned was not worth it. you whispered your name, but your voice was hoarse from lack of use.

Ivars’s head tilted slightly as his eyebrows knitted, “What a usual name,” he mused.

You bit back a laugh. “Coming from Ivar the boneless,” you muttered.

His eyes widened, a look of what you couldn’t tell if shock or rage or both washed over his face. “What did you call me?” he half yelled, grabbing onto the bars of the cage you were suddenly thankful for.

“It’s what everyone calls you!” you rushed out, pushing yourself as far away as possible, “In the textbooks that’s what legend says you were called I’m sorry,”

He paused, his hands slipping from the bar as the confused look returned, “What is a textbook?”

“Like a history book,” you said but that did little to explain it to him, “It’s like- “you paused trying to think what the closest thing to a Viking textbook was, “It’s like how you pass down stories in songs! We write them down in textbooks, so nobody forgets,”

Ivar paused for a moment as he finally relaxed again, “Where did you come from?” he asked, “And how do they know who I am? What have you told them?”

“I haven’t told them anything, my teachers they taught it to me,” you said, finally allowing yourself to sit at ease again, “I’m from the future,” the words felt foreign in your mouth as Ivar’s blue eyes widened.

“Prove it,”

“You’re Ivar the boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” you spoke but your voice was shaky as you tried to remember all you could, “Brother of Bjorn Ironside who explored the Mediterranean sea. Son of Aslaug. You go on to command the great heathen army,” you said and as you spoke Ivar looked like a child being read a bedtime story about pirates and mermaids, “You Ivar are a legend where I am from,” perhaps bending the truth a little but what would he know.

“And who- “

You cut him off this time when you felt your stomach lurch, “You said you would feed me. I won’t tell you anything else till you live up to your word,” you tried to sound firm, but it clearly wasn’t your style.

Still though Ivar nodded as he slowly began to drag himself away, “I shall return,” he said as he opened the door, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Don’t go anywhere,” he teased before shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes as you sunk back into the wood behind you. “Oh god he really is nuts,” you whispered. Then again perhaps it was you that was nuts. After all you had just been talking to a Viking who’d died thousands of years ago.

Part two

General Taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate

Vikings Taglist: @bellroclucky03 @ringpopdust @hypocritic-trash-baby @tessakate

[bjornswoman]

Vikings Masterlist

Bjorn Ironside

Mine

Afraid of losing you

Heart's healer

His night

Precious

Arrows

Blue piercing eyes

I love you

Zinnia

False promises

Ubbe

His dark side

Jealous

Secret

Just listen

His bride

Sick girl

Little girl

My enemy and me*

Hvitserk

Goddess

One of his women

Betrayed

Best friends

Crazy and mad

Lies* (remake) / Lies*

Fake wedding

Worth it

My prisoner

Ivar the Boneless

Mad about you

Last night, Back to you

Break

Feelings

Crimes of love

Games and conflicts

Jealous girl

Right person wrong time

Photograph

Toxic I, II

Destruction*

Harald Finehair

Promise

Allies

Live for me

Free with you

Shieldmaiden's secret

[a-firsthand-murder-ballad]

AFHMB is a dark fantasy, colonial era WIP IF with some historical inspiration and intended for a ~16+ audience. It is hosted on Itch.io, made with Twine, and will be free start-to-finish. Demo here.

Warnings for general death, very briefly mentioned infant death, war, and disease, amongst others.

The war’s victory was not a joyous affair. There was no celebration when the encroaching forces were routed from the land. No drinking. No parties. No cheering or tearful greetings from spouses who had not seen one another in nearly a decade.

The silence was unmistakable. Loud. Overwhelming.

There was no joy to be found in it.

The removal of enemy soldiers from Herritus was instead met by one of the bleakest seasons to have ever settled over the country’s south. Crops and livestock died of the cold, infants were unable to be roused from their frigid sleep, and chromatia returned from its grave with wretched determination.

The streets are deserted- not a soul travels the worn roads. The homeless freeze to death and community shelters across the nation are wrung dry. Not even a noble such as yourself is safe from the cold’s grip.

It seeps in through the cracked windows, through the gaps under the doors. Your fire cannot douse it. No matter how many lanterns you light, the shudders will not be dispelled. You don a dozen layers; it finds a way through each.

When you are diagnosed with the grey ruin and made to realise you may have only a few months left to live, you must take it upon yourself to remove any remaining loose ends- before the sickness takes you.

And yet...something is wrong in the town of Nērisk. Something impossible is happening. And someway, somehow, it all ties back in to your brother’s murder twenty years prior.

Reminder that everything here is subject to change. It is a WIP for a reason.

- Customize your MC, including their gender (with options for women, men, and nonbinary MCs, plus enby men and women) and pronouns (supports multiple sets and custom input), appearance, and skills.

- MC’s personality is semi-set.  You can shift the way they develop and how they react to some situations, but some facets of themself will always be set.

- Optionally romance any of 9 options, with 10 poly routes available, including one quad (four person) option.

- Discover that not everything in Nērisk is as it seems, and that you cannot put your past behind you quite so easily...

- You are not the hero of this story. Rediscover old friends, and with them, old vices you thought you’d overcome.

Florain Vettikar [M/F]: An individual from your past you held dear (ex-best friend or ex-lover), taken from you too soon as karmic retribution. They’re long dead...but that doesn’t mean they’re gone.

Aviri von Jhersten [NB]: Someone you knew long ago. Their hands and yours are stained with the same blood, yet they were the one to claim guilt for the fresh grave. Now, they return, with new money and old vendettas.

Cillian Rittaker [M/NB/F]: You had seen Cillian once in passing as a child, a poor orphan your mother had shooed you away from. Nowadays, ze’s a powerful healer...and Nērisk’s final bastion against the chromatia.

Liel Amorson [M/F]: A childhood friend. You haven’t seen them in the decades since their family was forced to flee Nērisk, but now they return. You’d think they hadn’t changed at all if not for the emptiness in their eyes.

Acrocantus vel Yurius [M]: A son of the king of a distant country, who ran to Nērisk to escape his father and his homeland. He’s completely out of his depth...and is paying you to let him stay in your manor.

Ueryphus el Lirisis [NB]: Vel Yurius’ personal guard. They don’t trust you, and maybe they’re right not to. Still, they manage being unhappily polite, if only due to your extended grace when it comes to housing them.

Niphiles Ivares [F]: A wanderer, constantly coming and going. You’ve seen her around a few times, maybe even had a chat or two. Now, though, she’s trapped here in Nērisk, and growing increasingly paranoid…

Micah Kirrest [NB]: An annoyingly kind and persistent barkeep- and perhaps the only person you can call friend. Recently, you’d been separated, and now ey refuse to leave your side...no matter the circumstances.

Allifair ve Ketimnar [M/F]: As a child, they were forced to train under the same church authority you were, and now, they’re a priest with that same church. They hide their guilt well with jokes and snark. Too well.

[Poly routes are Florain/Aviri, Florain/Liel, Florain/Micah, Aviri/Micah, Cillian/Niphiles, Cillian/Aviri, Cillian/Allifair, Liel/Micah, and Acrocantus/Ueryphus.]

[The four-person poly route is Florain/Liel/Micah.]

Demo

Tag Directory [TBA]

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Summary: how timetraveling Vikings would react to modern Christmas/what they enjoy/etc.

Tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @leithdragon @demon-of-the-ancient-world @alicedopey @ivarlover @levithestripper @batmandallyboy @akayxo09 @vrtualfairy (hmu to be added to any of my taglists!)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Ragnar

I think Ragnar likes modern christmas more than he should

He takes it like many non-christians do nowadays – fuck Christianity, i’m getting presents

Might let Athelstan drag him to church

Leaves midway tho

So bad at gift-giving that he accidentally gets you a great one

Lagertha

The BEST gift giver

Has a little table (after you show her how excel works, obvi) of the people she wants to get presents for and tracks their wishes over the course of a year

You need her at Christmas, actually

She doesn’t like the Christian part of it, but she likes the community it creates and GODDAMN Lagertha makes some good food

Athelstan

Vibes to church service HARD, even in modern times

Big enjoyer of WHAM! And Mariah Carey

Makes small, but very thoughtful gifts

Definitely always gets sick around Christmas and wears a bundle of scarves

Please don’t let him shave his head weirdly, or his brain will freeze

Bjorn

Doesn’t like Christmas

He came to the future, you have planes, let him use them

Spends his Christmas in warm places

Honestly, he might enjoy Aussie Christmas

Any excuse for beaches and bbq

Ubbe

If you want to stage a great Christmas celebration, go to Ubbe

Despite being from Viking times, he will be able to organise it better

He likes bringing people together for any occasion, and will be decorating the venue he chose like a PTA-mom with rabies (so, quintessentially, Ubbe)

Does not let snowy grounds stop him from playing football with friends/brothers

Hvitserk

LOVES Christmas

An endless supply of cookies and chocolate? Are you kidding??? The christians got something right?????

Eats everything you leave lying around

On time for everything during Christmas

Honestly, he gets hilarious gifts for everyone

Surprisingly good at singing christmas carols

Honestly, Hvitserk makes friends in all religions so his year of exquisite eating is just

Easter -> Eid -> Midsommar -> Thanksgiving -> Hannukah -> Christmas

Rinse and repeat baby

Sigurd

Spends the entire time critizising the compository value of christmas songs

Has an enemies to lovers arc with them

One day, soon after Christmas Eve, you will find a slightly drunk Sigurd in front of a karaoke machine with a thousand yard stare and the best interpretation of Last Christmas your ears will ever hear

Ivar

Christmas is a capitalist venture for the foolish designed by greedy christians

Totally does not buy super expensive gifts for his friends to brag

That Tesla outside your door? That’s not a Christmas gift silly, he’s sending you down the frozen road as a sacrifice to Odin so his bleeding ears might be saved from Sigurd

Does make an effort to put his mafia-ventures on hold for you though

He still hates Christmas

Floki

HATES CHRISTMAS. Floki hates Christmas so much. Did he already say he hates Christmas?

Hates it so much he secretly loves it.

‘Annoyed’ at Helga for baking cookies with you

‘Annoyed’ at the celebrations and people coming together

He secretly enjoys the non-Christian part of Christmas

But he just can’t get over the Jesus being born thing

Celebrates the part of Easter where he’s dead for a few days

Helga

Loves Christmas, and without shame

Turns into a cookie factory

Handmade gifts for everyone

Does a lot of charity/social work around Christmas

Enjoys ice-skating rinks as well

Tells Floki to stop moping around (he does)

[gloriousshieldmaiden]

Lagertha is a respected warrior and the former Queen of Kattegat. Her parents were farmers. She was raised as a shieldmaiden and learned to be brave and strong early on. Through the loss of her children, Lagertha has come to understand that Freyja's fertility is for others and that her path as a warrior Valkyrie was predestined by the goddess. Lagertha is very strong-willed and determined when it comes to protecting her family - and the throne. She was a shieldmaiden who fought alongside her male war companions and who proved herself very skilled in battle. Just like her former husband, Ragnar Lothbrok, she has a sense of adventure, equal to her strong ambition and desire to rule. In addition to her physical abilities, she is a person who loves those close to her, such as Ragnar, her surviving son Björn, her deceased daughter Gyda, her friends and allies. She is compassionate, loving towards those she loves and has her heart in the right place despite her bad sides. While she uses her power wisely and justly, she is vicious towards those she considers enemies. She is therefore impulsive in some situations and does not hesitate to attack what she sees as her enemies, without thinking about the possible consequences. She also demonstrated her desire for revenge by killing Aslaug after she had already surrendered to Lagertha. Lagertha is very fond of children, even though the seer told her that she would not have any other children apart from Björn and Gyda. This prophecy came true, but was considered dangerous by Ragnar, as she took unhealthy and unfounded risks during her pregnancy in order to "prove" that the prophecy was correct and unchangeable. In the end, she said that Ivar was a usurper, despite the fact that she herself is a usurper and Ivar has more right to claim the throne of Kattegat than she does. Because by divorcing Ragnar, she lost all rights to the throne, while Ivar is the son of Ragnar and Aslaug, Kattegat's previous rulers. Totally against Ivar's prohibition and despite the contempt she showed her, she trained Edda as a shieldmaiden, gave her her sword and officially appointed her as the new leader of the shieldmaidens. Despite the difficulties, she has loving feelings towards Edda and great respect for the young princess. Marcellus, whom she supported from the beginning, creating a loving and close bond between the two, adopted her and considers her her son.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Pull the Trigger (Modern!Ivar/Reader) Masterlist

moodboard by me

When Y/N’s best friend started dating one of the Lothbrok brothers she couldn’t believe it. Since she had moved to Kattegat she had been silently hating them, especially the youngest of them all. Ivar Lothbrok was irritating, pretentious, a narcissist and, in general, very bad news. The last thing Y/N wanted was to get involved with that family, but she’d do anything for Thora, including giving a chance to her boyfriend’s annoying family that might not be as bad as she thought. 

Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of SA, alcohol, drugs, smut, slowburn, mentions of sex. 

Enemies to lovers (mild), soulmates. 

Read it on AO3!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

New chapter every Thursday at 20:00 CET

Tags: @istorkyou @barnes-lothbrok​ @naaladareia​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @southernbe​ @nothingtolosebutweight​ @noway4u​

Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist!

[exaltedandpure]

Marlena Caya Hvitserksdóttir

The norse Queen of Scotland

"Scotland has one true ruler, Marlena Caya Hvitserksdóttir, Queen of Scots, daughter of Hvitserk and Caya Lothbrok, crowned on her wedding day and not appointed by the Pope, or the Almighty himself. But it is my duty, my from the gods given destiny and my crown! And I defend it from anyone who attempts to take it!"

"You're beautiful and clever and unpredictable. Like your mother, you know how to use your beauty and could have the whole world at your feet. You are aware of it, but you don't use it because other people are more important to you than you are. You are like your mother, a whirlwind but with a heart of gold. There's this fire inside of you that's the same as your mother's. You're a warrior, you know how to fight, but you prefer to use your wits to win wars. That's what makes you who you are, what makes you special." Hvitserk to his daughter.

Marlena Caya Hvitserksdóttir - Daughter of Hvitserk and Caya, younger sister of Illian and older sister of Ellinor, granddaughter of the two great men Ragnar and Flóki the Shipbuilder, niece of Xenia, Ivar, Ubbe and Bjorn and cousin of Vidar, Edda, Cailan, Iwan Ragnar and Leja. She's the wife of Vidar, her one and only true love and the mother of Ragnar Ivain, Lidija Marlene and Ranva Aleen. Passionate and balanced is what best describes Marlena, but she is also a headstrong woman. She proves to be a fearsome enemy to anyone who stands in her way. She is also a great ally as she always puts other people before herself. As a child, Marlena was described as very talkative and free with words, but in her youth she became stronger to stand up for what she believes in. She has grown into an independent woman who will do anything to protect the people she loves and her country. She is a warrior but she is also the romantic, both in equal parts. Many describe her as a truly remarkable woman, she is funny, charming, adventurous, wild and full of passion. Just like her mother, she has an unbridled fire, an unbreakable will and is often unpredictable, but like her mother, she is also an extremely intelligent young woman. She speaks various languages, she rides horses and she is good at hunting. Marlena has a close relationship with her brother, her cousin and her cousins ​​because she grew up with them. And an even stronger bond and relationship with her little sister, who she admires and loves deeply. Marcellus is her best friend, her guidance and the person she finds most support and comfort in, except for Edda who is not only her cousin, but her best friend. Family always comes first for her and she would defend and protect them with her own life without hesitation. Her father is her greatest hero, whom she loves more than anything else. Marlena also has a very close relationship with her uncle and her aunt, and loves them unconditionally. She is a real whirlwind with the heart of a Norse, a strong belief in the gods and the fate they have given her. Together with her family, including Edda, Vidar, Illian and Marcellus she was send to Scotland to meet the Scottish king and to marry him. After their marriage the king died, which made Marlena the new Queen of Scotland. She married Vidar, who is through their marriage the King of Scotland and together they have a son and two daughters.

Married to my one and only true love, my life, my heart, my happiness and my king,- @rebelheartedviking, mother of a beautiful and perfect little boy - Ragnar Ivain and two perfect and precious daughters - Lidija Marlene and Ranva Aleen.

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, chapter 206 of "Vinland Saga", and holy shit, what an incredible chapter this was.

All my fears of a convenient or easy resolution to the brewing conflict just evaporated with this chapter.

Starting it out with the natives already attacking Arnheind Village, already slaughtering a family, and juxtaposing that against Thorfinn's attempts to evade conflict, the reader knowing it's already too late, was a brilliant move. I was seriously on the edge of my seat reading this.

And knowing the natives are now heading toward Thorfinn's house, where Gurdrid is in the midst of giving birth, Jesus, the stakes couldn't be higher. Clearly these people have no qualms murdering women, and I'm guessing they have no qualms murdering children either. War has already begun, as the editor's caption at the end says.

I'm really loving this, because Thorfinn's resolve of pacifism has never been more sorely tested than it is now, and I frankly don't see a way out of this while maintaining that vow. Violence has already broken out, and Thorfinn's very family, his wife and children, are in danger. If Thorfinn DOESN'T fight, they could very well die. How far does Thorfinn's resolve to abstain from violence reach? Would he let his own family perish to hold to his vow? These kinds of questions are of course what makes a story like "Vinland Saga" so interesting. What good does an avoidance of conflict amount to if innocent people die for it?

And then there's Einar and Thorfinn's own, emerging conflict. To see it come to this between them is heartbreaking, but incredibly realistic. Einar is Thorfinn's first and best friend, and yet they're at what seems an impasse. Einar's refusal to leave, and his declaration that no one else will leave either, is true to reality. All of the Nords worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to just agree to leave. Thorfinn's idealism is starting to run into harsh reality, and it isn't going well. When Einar accuses Thorfinn of caring more about his vow not to kill than he does the village, this is also a harsh clash of reality against his idealism. Again, he's faced with a vital question. What's more important to him, making amends for all the lives he previously took by creating and sustaining a world and a life for people trying to escape war, or his vow of pacifism? An even more impossible question, how can a world free from war even exist if you aren't willing to fight for it? I really like this. Because it's presenting the incongruence of a totally peaceful world. It can't actually exist. In order to defend something and sustain it, violence can't always be avoided. You can't always refuse to fight. Because there's always going to be someone or something which threatens it. Thorfinn's conflict with Einar really encapsulates this. At a certain point, you have to choose. Hold, without compromise, to an impossible, personal ideal, or fight for the lives of others. Einar isn't wrong when he tells Thorfinn his continued insistence that the Lnu aren't their enemies is stupid. They are because they refuse now to allow the Nords to stay, under threat of violence. That's an enemy. A world without enemies was only ever a fantasy. The impartial and unbiased spread of disease ensured the impossibility of pretending otherwise any longer. There's always going to be a situation of it being either us or them.

Now, the attack on Arnheid Village is all the more devastating. It really is too late to avoid war now. They've killed a man and a woman. Two members of the community. And they're headed for Thorfinn's home next. This presents further, terrible questions. There are no weapons in the village, the very thing the natives are looking for. Thorfinn's insistence of bringing no means of defending themselves could very well cost lives now. The irony, of course, is that it was Ivar smuggling weapons into the village in the first place that ignited the native's greed, and encouraged them to attack to begin with. Further irony is in the fact that Thorfinn's own pacifism is what lead to Ivar attacking the Shaman in the first place, convinced as he was that Throfinn was weak and wouldn't be able to defend himself. "Vinland Saga" really is presenting both sides of the argument now. It's both Ivar's violence and Thorfinn's pacifism that has contributed to the current state of things.

But the Nords aren't going to be able to be talked out of all out war, at this point. First blood has been drawn, and there's no way they're going to listen to anything Thorfinn has to say any more about not fighting.

I really don't know what's going to happen now. Thorfinn and his group are being pursued by the war party of natives, and his village is under attack, with Gurdrid and Karli and the others all in danger. If Thorfinn can't make it back to the village, his family might die. And if they do, what would be Thorfinn's reaction? How would his vow of pacifism even hold up to that? Or if he is able to make it back to the village in time, I can't imagine he'll just stand by and let his family be slaughtered. He'll have to fight to defend them. He may even have to kill.

This is by far the best chapter of "Vinland Saga" in a while, and one of the best of the entire series, I think.

Things are really starting to come to a head now, and I can't wait to see how this develops. The two month wait is gonna' be hard to take.

[viking-chaos]

Of Irland, Chapter 24

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 23 \\ Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 24: Ships and more Ships

Chapter Warnings: Language, threat, nothing serious really. Words: 3507 AO3 A/N: My heading layout has changed because I am using a different app.

“So, when will the ships arrive?”

“They will arrive when they arrive, Ivar, as I told you the last fifty times you asked.”

“But it hasn’t arrived yet!”

“I said it should arrive today. I didn’t say I knew what time exactly it would arrive. How am I supposed to know that?”

“You are a fucking seer! These are the sorts of things you’re supposed to ‘see’. So why can’t you just ‘see?’”

“Because it doesn’t work like that!”

This was the argument that greeted Sigtryggr and Stiorra as they made their way down the stairs to breakfast. Sigtryggr gave her hand one last squeeze before they parted. It was best for both of them that Ivar didn’t find out. They would keep their relationship a secret as long as possible.

“That is exactly how it is supposed to work!” Ivar said indignantly.

Drifa sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Ivar, I see death, life, grief and love. I do not see the exact time and place an enemy will approach. I do not see whether or not it will rain or snow. I certainly do not see the exact time that a ship will arrive.”

“You're not much of a seer then, are you?”

Drifa gave a defeated groan and turned to the newcomers, sitting themselves at the table.

“How was your night then?” she asked, a wide grin on her face.

Stiorra choked on her morning porridge. 

“My night would have been better if I knew a ship or two would arrive safely today with supplies and goods,” Ivar interjected.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Drifa retorted. 

This back and forth must have been going on for some time, as Drifa sighed and put her head in her hands. “And I have told you. The bloody ship arrives today. I don’t know what time.”

“What she means,” Asvard called out from a table across the room, “is she doesn’t give two shits about the ship. And you’re not even worth one!”

“Asvard!” Drifa admonished, but Stiorra could see her smiling. 

“You can go look out for the ship,” Ivar ordered. 

“You are not my king or my jarl, “Drifa reminded him, standing.

“You serve my family.”

“I serve Bjorn Ironside, Ivar. He is the king back home, or have you forgotten,” Drifa said, standing.

Stiorra froze. Bjorn Ironside. The brother of Ivar the Boneless? Drifa had often mentioned her king back ‘home’, wherever home was to her. But to have Bjorn Ironside as a king?

“But I will go.”

Ivar nodded. “Good.”

“Partly so she doesn’t have to look at your slimy shit-face countenance again,” Hæfnir piped up.

This time she didn’t even bother yelling at him. Just shook her head and left the hall.

“Bjorn Ironside?” Stiorra whispered to Sigtryggr. “Her lands were given to her by Bjorn Ironside?”

“No,” he answered. “They were given to her by his father. And my grandfather’s father.”

Stiorra sighed, flopping back in her seat. “Everyone seems to be related to everyone,” she grumbled.

___________________________________________________

After a rather tense and silent breakfast, Ivar ordered both of his brothers to make their way down to the docks to await the ship. Stiorra went with, partly so she would not be left alone in the Great Hall with Ivar. Rognvaldr vanished somewhere on the way. 

They found Drifa staring pointedly down the river. 

“What are you doing, my friend?” Sigtryggr asked, trying to figure out what she was staring so hard at. 

“I am following orders, Sigtryggr. I am ‘looking’ for the ship.”

Stiorra giggled. Trust Drifa to find some way of annoying Ivar.

A small crowd had started gathering around the dock, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of this ship. It was strange to Stiorra that one ship could gain so much interest, but given where it was coming, it almost seemed reasonable.

“Has this ship come straight from Fjall?” she asked. 

“No, the one before that never arrived did,” Drifa answered. “This ship came from the Mediterranean.”

“The where?”

Drifa chuckled slightly. “The Mediterranean is a sea. The Roman Empire once held sway over the lands that surrounded it. The ships that come from there are often laden with spices and silk, herbs, linen, many things. Anything that comes from there tends to be the best of the best. The lands there are rich in resources.”

As Drifa spoke, the crowd surrounding the docks swelled. People were jostling each other, trying to see if the boat had come. Fear of Drifa probably kept from coming too close.

A laugh from behind turned Stiorra around to see Sigtryggr laughing with his friend, Alvin, Arnas? She couldn’t remember.

Whatever his name was, he did not seem particularly pleased at his friend's hysterics.

“What did you do this time, you half-wit?” Drifa teased.

The red haired man rolled his eyes. “She was complaining that her back hurt, so I reminded her of the time I jumped off the walls in a snowstorm and landed back-first in a pile of snow,” he mumbled, now looking more ashamed of himself. “So she whalloped  me with one of her skirts.” 

Drifa, like Sigtryggr, burst out laughing. 

“Why would you jump off the walls in a snowstorm?” Stiorra asked, giggling herself because it sounded so stupid.

“Because I dared him too,” Sigtryggr answered. Stiorra’s jaw dropped. There was no way, Sigtryggr, of all people, would dare his best friend to do something so ridiculously idiotic. He was too responsible, level-headed, and intelligent.…

“I was young and foolish once, too, Stiorra,” he said, seeing her expression. He stepped closer and placed a finger under her chin, applying the barest of pressures until her mouth was shut.

They stared in each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. A small pool of wetness grew between her thighs.

The moment lasted until Sigtryggr’s friend swung his arm around the much taller Dane and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, “Are you humping her?”

“Anlaf!” Sigtryggr snapped back at him. Anlaf (that was his name then) held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t be telling Ivar. He scares me more than he scares you.”

Sigtryggr scoffed. “Ivar doesn’t scare me.”

He was lying. Stiorra could see it in his eyes. Ivar scared them all. 

Drifa walked up to them, having apparently abandoned her ‘efforts’ to search for the ship.

“Anlaf, you should try being pregnant sometime. When you wake up, you need to pee, to get up, you have to roll over. You have to be careful not to roll on your overly large belly that swells in front of you, while that same belly prevents you from rolling yourself over.”

Anlaf sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“When you finally do get up and pee, your back hurts. You sit down and you need to pee again. Your arse hurts, your breasts have swelled and they hurt,” she continued. “And on top of that, you have a husband who complains that you're always hurting, because you are, you never satisfy his needs because you’re too tired. You have your own needs, which your husband is too afraid of hurting the baby to satisfy, and he still expects you to cook his meals, and clean the house he pays for, and clean his clothes, make the bed, mend his shirts among other things. All of which you are too bloody pregnant to do.”

Everyone just stared at her for a moment. 

“Have you ever had a baby, Drifa?” Anlaf asked, shocked, “because I can’t for the life of me figure out how you know all of that without having any children.”

“Perhaps I have had children and you just don't know about it,” she joked. No-one laughed with her. Stiorra almost believed it for a moment. “Because as the midwife who checks on your wife every week, that is what she tells me.”

Anlaf nodded, looking, if it was possible, even more ashamed of himself.

“It is also what every woman tells me when I visit. They tell me their husbands do nothing to help. That they’re useless. Some husbands do not care to help.”

“Tell me what I can do, Jarl Drifa?” Anlaf asked. “What can I do to help her?”

“You can help look after your daughter, you can help her with whatever tasks need doing around the house. Let her rest, put her feet up.”

“You could rub her feet,” Sigtryggr suggested out of nowhere. Stiorra looked at him blankly. How does he know that?

Seeing her confused expression, he smiled. “I also help in the hospital sometimes.”

Suddenly someone yelled, “SHIP! THERE’S A SHIP!”

The crowds jostled impatiently. Drifa signalled to some of her men to keep the crowds back. Stiorra was searching frantically for this ship.

Drifa’s ships were somewhat famous. As a traveller, she had to take a large enough ship to carry as much supplies as possible, as well as the men and women she’d bring with. She never wanted to bring a whole fleet, just to carry supplies. And so once, not long before she set on an extremely long voyage, She designed an enormous ship, large enough to carry around two-hundred men. The only problem was that many were built before she realised she didn't need dozens of ships that could carry an army twice the size of the army she already commanded. So she loaned them out to traders in return of a particular tax and a particular set of rules. This route went all the way from her own lands in Fjall, through Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and over the North Sea to Lunden and Wessex, places in Frankia, Espana, all the way through the Mediterranean. And of course, Dyflin. The route even connected to the Silk Road that led all the way to China. All places Stiorra had never been to, or barely even heard of. This venture earned her a lot of money, as well as the taxes she received from Fjall itself. There was a theory that she was the richest person in the entire world, although that would never be confirmed.

As the ship finally entered view in the harbour, Stiorra was finally able to see the true size of these things. She’d never seen one of these ships up close. Even the one they’d used to get to Dyflin had been a regular longship. And it was enormous. The hull itself was taller than even Sigtryggr. This boat was longer and wider than any ship that had ever been built. Stiorra even wondered how it was afloat. It finally came to rest at the docks, docks that had been specially built to accommodate the sheer size of it. The bright red sail appeared to be made of at least four regular sails stitched together. 

“Four times the size of your regular knarr. Can hold four times the amount of cargo, yet with a very similar amount of crew,” Drifa said proudly and the gangplank was lowered.

A dark haired man wearing a bright red cloak like the sails stepped down the plank. He had a bushy beard that obscured half his face. His bright blue eyes just peeped out from the tangle of his hair.

“Ornulf!” Drifa called, waving to him. The trader, Ornulf, walked slowly down the plank, limping as though he had been wounded. “What happened to you?”

Ornulf stumbled off the end of the plank as though his legs were not used to standing on unmoving ground. Sigtryggr, the hero he was, caught him before he hit the ground. “Pirates happened.” 

Sigtryggr then guided him over to a bench, where the trader sat, rubbing his leg.

“So, you know what happened to the previous ship?” he asked.

“I do, Lord.”

Men started to unload the large ship, but all eyes were on Ornulf.

“We had just arrived in Cookham for Yol, as you instructed, Jarl,” he began. “Lord Uhtred told us about the ship. And he said that two of the pirates had gone into town, gotten themselves drunk, and they foolishly boasted about their conquest. Lord Uhtred informed me that they apprehended the men in question. I offered to bring them here to you for judgement, given it was your ship they sank.”

Ornulf signalled to two of his men.

“Did these men say who they were?” Drifa asked.

“One was called Hermand, the other Anlaf.”

A struggle on the deck caught the attention of those watching. Two of Ornulfs burlier men were dragging two younger smaller men down the ramp.

The first was tall and muscular. His dark hair was long and braided. His face was covered in intricate tattoos that extended down his neck into his armour. Most curious though, was the pendant in the shape of a bear around his neck. Most warriors wore a hammer to represent Thor.

Stiorra glanced at Sigtryggr and noticed him grip his sword tight. She laid a gentle hand on his arm, hoping to calm him.

“That man there is a berserker, like Hæfnir,” he whispered. 

“But Hæfnir doesn’t wear that pendant,” she whispered back.

“People call him a berserker because he fights like one, in a crazed trance, but he is not a true berserker in the way most think of it. He is called that for a joke.”

The second man was not quite as tall or burly. His face was long and thin, his hair was long, as was the fashion, but unbraided and wild. As he came closer, Sigtryggr relaxed his stance and sighed audibly. He muttered something in Irish that sounded like a swear word.

Once both were standing in front of him, he approached the berserker. “Hermund,” he said by way of greeting. “I am sorry about your wife.”

Hermund snapped to look at him in shock. “Did you not hear?” Drifa said. “She died giving birth to your son, Ingilmundr. The boy is here, he has been cared for by his uncle Anlaf.”

Stiorra looked at him. Anlaf was tense as well, holding onto the axe strapped to his belt.

“Brother,” he called over. 

Sigtryggr moved onto the other. “Nephew,” he said.

Stiorra froze. Nephew. One of the raiders was his nephew? But Ivar doesn’t have any children.

“Take them both to the Great Hall. And someone tell Ivar,” Sigtryggr ordered.

Stiorra raced after him as he started to walk off. The crowds surged forwards now the fun was over, wanting various items from the immense ship.

“Sigtryggr!” she yelled after him. He stopped and grabbed her hand to pull her through the crowd safely. 

Once they were both out of the crowds, she was able to ask him the question on her mind.

“You never said you had a nephew,” she said.

“His father is Ivar’s older brother, Guthfrith,” he explained. She remembered Drifa saying something about him, that he left Dyflin many years ago.

“Around the time I was born, Guthfrith had a falling out with Ivar. I was only a babe, so I don’t know much about it. I only know it was bad enough for Guthfrith to leave with his wife. Five years later, his wife came back, heavily pregnant and covered in bruises. Drifa was there at the time, creating a trade deal with my father. Guthfrith’s wife gave birth a week after she came back and died, but she was alive long enough to name her son Anlaf, and to ask my father to raise him, which he did.

“Five years ago, Anlaf left with his best friend, Hermand, who is my friend, Anlaf’s brother. They both left to find his father, and we haven’t heard anything since. Hermand was married, and his wife was with child. She gave birth six months after they left, dying ten days later, after begging her brother-in-law’s to raise her son.”

There was silence between them at the end of his story. 

“Your friend has another brother?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes, his name is Skoll Grimmarsson,” he answered, “and he is Ivar’s best friend.”

A loud clanking turned both of them around. Drifa was walking towards them, Asvard beside her carrying a large box.

“And Skoll Grimmarsson is one ugly pain in the arse,” Drifa added. “We don’t like him.”

Who could be surprised? A friend of Ivar’s was likely to be just as bad as him.

“It is a complicated family,” she sighed. “First you have two Anlafs. We call the nephew Anlaf, Other Anlaf.”

Stiorra giggled. 

“Then there’s the fact that yous two are cousins.”

Stiorra gaped at her. Sigtryggr looked as though she was mad (which she was).

“It’s true!” she insisted. “Gisela was the daughter of Harthacanute, who was the son of Sigurd Snake-Eye, who’s brother was Ivar the Boneless. You’re second cousins once removed, I think.”

Still they stared.

“It’s not incest!” she protested. “It doesn’t count!”

“Not like them,” Asvard said. 

“Oh, yes, them.”

“Who’s them?” Sigtryggr asked, exceedingly confused.

“Them who shall not be named are famous for the incest. But, they shall not be names,” Drifa said, tapping the side of her nose with a finger. “Besides the point,” she gestured to Asvard, “a present from Lord Uhtred of Cookham to his daughter.”

Asvard presented the box to Stiorra. Drifa hit him on the head. “Take it up to her room, you oaf, it’s heavy.” Asvard grumbled as he walked off in the general direction of the Great Hall. "You're welcome," she added. 

"Umm, thank you?" Stiorra said quizzically. She wasn't really sure that being told she had humped her cousin had been at all necessary. 

Sigtryggr tapped her shoulder and whispered, “You should go back to the room and open your presents. Drifa and I have to have a little talk,” he finished with glare in the skald’s direction.

_______________________________________

Back in the Great Hall (Ivar had mercifully left to deal with the arrival of the ship), Asvard was just coming down the stairs that led to the bedrooms. He held out an arm to stop Stiorra from going any further.

“Lady, um” he started, “I’m not sure how to say this, but the roof to your room collapsed.” Shit. That was not good. She distantly heard Asvard say something about leaving the box in Sigtryggr’s room, which was probably for the best. Ifhe had it his way, he would never leave. She managed to let out a thank you to the man before continuing on her way. 

She could see her door at the end of the corridor open. She glanced briefly. The damage was extensive. She would not be sleeping there for a good while.

Now, then, what did my father send me for Yol. She would worry more about her room after she’d seen what she got.

The box was sitting at the end of Sigtryggr’s bed. Stiorra hesitated before opening it, remembering how her father (or more often, whoever was not drunk) had to stop Finan from giving her something inappropriate for Yol. He would often drag poor Osferth (who would be too drunk to even realise what was going on) with him.

Poor baby monk. He’d been so innocent once (or so she had been told).

But then, her father would never have let this box out of Cookham without checking it thoroughly first. She opened it, and began to pull out the contents one by one. There was a trinket from Osferth, a string of beads. Finan had sent her a small flagon of ale. Sihtric had sent a drawing that appeared to have been done by one of his children. 

And then there was Uhtred. He’d gifted her a knife. A sensible gift. A note was attached. “I hope you never need to use this.”

Tears started leaking out of her eyes. She hadn’t seen any of them for months now. 

The door opened softly behind her. It was Sigtryggr. She could tell by the careful footsteps.

There was a light metallic clatter as he removed his sword and belt. Then his arms came around her.

“Has something happened, my love?”

Her heart gave a jolt as he said those two words. It had only been a few days. She wondered if she’d ever get used to hearing them from his mouth.

“Everything is fine.”

“You’re crying.” Damn him for being so observant. “What’s wrong?”

He turned her around to face him, gently wiping away her tears.

“I miss home, my father, my ‘uncles’.”

“Even the ones that get each other in trouble,” he smiled, trying to cheer her up.

“That would be Finan dragging poor Osferth into his schemes,” she chuckled through her tears. 

“Osferth, the baby monk?” he confirmed. Stiorra nodded. 

“I hope I get to take you to meet all of them, one day,” she mused.

“Hmm,” he’d said. “I may be rather afraid.”

“Why? From what I’ve seen, you’re afraid of nothing.”

“Just think about what would happen when the Dane-Slayer finds out that a Dane is humping his daughter.”

She hadn’t thought of that.

[walpu]

The Duke told all of us to go to the village he had picked out. To tell us to rest up, and he will inform us when our next training session was due.

We stayed there. The residents were sweet and kind, they took us in and gave us warm food and clothes.

But one night, there was a fire in the middle of town. It started from a haybale being set on fire after the barnyard was doused by fuel, the whole village burned in a matter of hours.

We tried to contact the Duke, but he didnt reply.

We turned on each other. Pointing fingers, saying that it was the other who had decided to set fire to an innocent village and trying to place the blame of entire village's surviving population on us.

Soon, the killings started.

The weakest in combat, the crippled ones, and the selfless ones went down first. They had let their strength dwindle, and their hearts open, and they paid dearly for the price.

Next, all the villagers, adult, child, it didnt matter. Devastation rained upon them as we all knew that we couldn't let any survivors reveal what had went down.

The screams, they haunted us for a long time. Leynor was the only ones that were considered the luckier ones to survive. I can understand that. He was shy, and hid for the most part of the death showdown.

It’s a good thing Ranis accompanied him throughout. It would have been an adorable and teasable moment if it wasn’t in the midst of life and death.

Next, it became a hunting competition. Sahim and Ivar were missing throughout, thankfully, they simply just hid, and killed whoever tried to overpower them.

One by one, all of them perished, from being shot, stabbed and mutilated.

I was one of them. I did what I had to. But I hated every moment of it. I grew up with these people, they were my friends and rivals alike, and they were the same people I had to slaughter to ensure my survival.

But I pushed forward. I purged all obstacles, all of my allies and foes alike, and I tore down everything just so I would be the last to win.

And in the end, I lost everything. My friends that accompanied me when I was far from family, my dignity, and the remaining friendships that didn’t last till today.

And I even lost… him. Matthen. Sweet Matthen. Why did you have to be so stupid, so sacrificing, and so fucking loving? If you had just killed me, right then and there, you would be alive. I would have rather hunted down whoever was left if we were not running out of time before sundown.

It was horrible. The blade pierced him with such sickening ease, I felt sick to my stomach for the first time since my childhood. He was still smiling. Still smiling as I held his ever growing colder body, and crying for his forgiveness.

It’s blurry after all that. I remember Haben rushing over and hugging me to his body, I felt so weak, so disgusted with myself. He held me close, and he was the one who had to pry me off of Matthen’s cold body.

I was the one who purged the most of them. It was something to be proud of, but it wasn’t. I had killed so many. So many who had a life, and so many who had opportunities. And yet, I continued to kill even in my adult years

I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see the person who’s still alive, after slaughtering so many innocents like a killing machine.

I can’t look at the person who should have died instead of Matthen. He still smiled. He knew that I had a family to go home to, who didn’t even know what had become of me.

But he did as well. He had a life, and he so willingly gave that up for a pathetic, selfish man like me.

The Duke is dead now, but his children are not.

I will make them suffer the way they made all of us suffer. I will make them taste the wrath of their own flames, and listen to their screams and howls as they wither away.

-a exert of a diary note you found in Verian’s notebook. It’s burned at the edges, likely from fiery rage.

There’s a reason why Verian had so many enemies to this day, the arrow guy is the one who hates him the most, because Verian had killed all of his friends.

There were only 20 survivors left amongst around hundreds, but the worst thing is that if Verian didn’t get another kill before the sun cracked over the horizon, he would have died, and Matthen didn’t want that.

There’s a reason out of everyone, Haben is the one Verian called his friend with benefit, because Haben was the first, besides Matthen and even before Aventurine, to have ever seen him so vulnerable yet never take advantage of him.

You will never stop tormenting Verian, won't you? 😭

[seamayweed]

got tagged four times, so i thought it was about time i crawled out of the woodwork and did this! thanks, @godotismissingx, @akingyouniverse, @pashminabitch & @idrilka 💙

Rules: Answer all the questions, then tag 9 people you want to get to know better!

Three ships: i'm a seon-ho multishipper but if i had to choose then it would be bangseon (yi bang-won/nam seon-ho, MCTNA); sephcloud (sephiroth/cloud strife, FF7); balthorki (baldr/thor/loki, Marvel/MCU); as a bonus: heavar (heahmund/ivar, Vikings)

First ship: i think it might have been sasunaru lol

Last song I listened to: Labour by Paris Paloma

Last movie I watched: it's still The Divine Fury (haven't gotten around to watching The Handmaiden yet, but i hope to soon! /o\)

Currently reading: not really reading anything right now... though i guess i recently got Fire & Blood by George R. R. Martin. also meant to start reading Gilgi - eine von uns by Irmgard Keun soon beyond the sneak peek i already got (folks, is it gay to call your girl best friend "Marzipanmädchen" and dreamily think of her as romance itself in the era of the "Neue Sachlichkeit" that eschews romance and sentimentality of any kind???).

Currently watching: i gave in to the urge and finally started watching House of the Dragon (hence why i got Fire & Blood). alicent hightower is my poor little meow meow who is surrounded by creeps and has sapphic longing for her childhood friend/first love turned enemy and can do no wrong

Currently consuming: water - remember to stay hydrated, everyone!

Currently craving: savory puff pastries or há cảo 🤤

Tagging @illwynd, @pyrebomb, @argents-huntress, @hedvig-ulrika, @sadviper, @rain-hat, @nubreed73, @lilsjames, @fuckingfeatherine, @blueberry-cheese-pizza, @springkitten, @contagiousrhythminmybrain, @lvsifer, @noona96n, @strandedchesspiece, @bienmoreau, @cumberbatchedandproud, @laireshi, @judiwench, @itsza, @yohankang, @radialarch, @convenientalias, @avauntus and anyone else who wants to do it!

[a-cabin-in-midgard]

AURELIA

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

TITLE(S)

Aurelia Cotta, Lady of Crete

ALIAS

Lia

Ditzy (by Heimdall)

Scatter-brained Mortal (by Heimdall)

Lassie/Lass (by Mimir)

BIRTHPLACE

Midgard

LOCATION

Midgard (formerly)

Realm Between Realms (formerly)

Asgard (currently)

STATUS

Alive

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

RACE

Midgardian

GENDER

Female

HEIGHT

172 cm (5'7")

HAIR COLOR

Strawberry/Light Blonde

EYE COLOR

Brown

SKIN COLOR

Sand

RELATIONSHIP INFORMATION

FAMILY

Merope (Mother) †

Ivar (Father) †

Eirik (Younger Brother) †

Heimdall (Love Interest)

Oenopion (Maternal Grandfather)

LOYALTIES

Herself

The Nine Realms

Kratos

Atreus

ENEMIES

Odin

Thor

Heimdall (formerly)

WEAPONS

Wooden Longbow

Poison Arrows

Explosive Arrows

Iron Dagger

ITEM(S)

Mother's Ring

PAST LORE

Aurelia (who normally goes by Lia) was born in the mountains of Midgard. Her family mostly kept to themselves, living a secluded and self-sufficient life. As such, both her and her brother had little to no form of education. Life only got harder once Fimbulwinter hit. Food was scarce, and disease was rampant. Her father died first from pneumonia, and shortly afterwards, her brother fell through the ice in the Lake of Nine and drowned. Distraught over the loss of both her son and husband, Aurelia’s mother committed suicide. In a matter of months, Aurelia had buried her entire family. 

Probably at the lowest point in her life, Aurelia nearly died herself on a hunting trip shortly after the death of her family members. She put up a fight, but had been fully prepared to die. In the knick of time, she was saved by both Kratos and Atreus. They took her back to their cabin, where they tended to her injuries and ultimately nursed her back to health. She learned who they were, and despite her initial reservations about staying in the company of gods, she ends up sticking with them in order to survive Fimbulwinter.

CURRENT LORE

She’s essentially taken on the role of caretaker when it comes to Kratos and Atreus (Mimir is not safe from her matriarchal tendencies either). Aurelia is more concerned with ensuring their survival and being as useful as possible (as useful as a mortal can be among gods). She sometimes accompanies them on journeys, but usually stays home with Mimir to guard the house. Plot from GOW5 pretty much stays the same, she aids in rescuing Tyr from Svartalfheim, but follows Atreus to Asgard in order to keep an eye on him. The lines between friend and enemy become blurred, especially the more she gets to know the Midgardian refugees and citizens of Gladsheim. She very quickly gains the attention of Asgard’s beloved spiteful and vicious little shit, who takes every and any opportunity to get on her nerves.

[hoghtastic]

https://www.tumblr.com/hoghtastic/746737552399138816/i-cant-say-that-vikings-is-a-big-deal-in-germany?source=share

Actualy I still don't know why I watched vikings to the end.

It was historical bullshit. To be fair it was more fictional than historical acurate but entertaining. I mean there are so many nicknames/titels ( kings slayer, King of all danes in England and Ireland) and Legends (cows skin, killed king edmund through bounding him on a tree and let his man pierc him with arrows, great with arrows and bows, killed three of Alfreds brothers, let his bones burrie to course the future enemies of his folk when they cross them and so on) about Ivar the boneless and they only focused on boneless. They gave him the most unlikly handicape for this time.

Alex portaited him well. But the storry was bad. Still the Charakters were somehow outstanding.

Dear admin I think your friends are right. The creators focused to much in bringing in where vikings have been. So they stole the storry of ragnars sons. It is a pitty that they filmed near Dublin but left dublins history with ragnars sons completly.

Ivar the King of all vikings in England and Ireland, Hvitserk the King of York, Ubbe the Monster of scotland, Bjorn the travler and Sigurd the King of sweden/denmark.

Poor Guthrun he never hit England in vikings.

Thank you for sharing some of your knowledge on this topic, anon! 😊 Personally, I think that even though the show wasn't historically accurate, it was still very entertaining. And maybe it was its purpose, as I don't think these kind of shows are meant to be extremely accurate or educational — there are probably much better documentaries on this matter? 😄

[talesofourworlds]

Which of your muses would likely be best friends if they met? Which ones would instantly become enemies?

Questions for multimuse blogs!

(ooc: I definitely could see Rita and Rinwell being friends. Even with their differing views on their mageness ((at least before Rinwell learns to accept that part of herself)), they have a bit in common. They both are their respective party's most trusted source when it comes to something magical ((aer and later mana in relation to Rita, astral energy and such for Rinwell)), they both love to read, they both love sweets... I could see them butting heads in terms of their favorite animals, though. Rinwell preferring owls while Rita prefers cats. You also wouldn't want to get on their bad side, since both can be a bit volatile in terms of their emotions.

Jay and Jade... I could see them both either teaming up to be a pair of menaces to some degree, or annoying the absolute hell out of each other. Both intelligent, both usually one step ahead of their party ((though not necessarily true for Jay all the time, since even he loses his grasp on the one braincell from time to time)), both have blood on their hands for things they've done in the past... it really comes down to whether or not they can put up with being similar in personality.

I also feel like I could see Sophie and Nazamil getting along. This one I can't really explain. It's just a feeling. Maybe Sophie would be able to help Nazamil discover more about herself.

Ivar and Walter would absolutely hate each other, I'm pretty sure. They have exactly one thing in common and that's being dutiful, loyal guardians for their respective charges. But where Walter is serious to a near fault and hardly ever cracks a smile, Ivar is definitely more of a dingus. Ivar can be serious, too, but I feel like they would absolutely grate on each other's nerves. They might potentially bond over their respective annoyances toward specific people ((Senel in Walter's case and Jude in Ivar's)), but I don't ever really see them being friends.

I also could see Jude and Aegis maybe getting along. They sure seemed to relate to one another during last year's Spring Festitales, so I feel like there's potential!

One last pair. I could see Kisara and Eizen maybe getting along, or at least being fishing buddies!)

[niphuial]

Elias nods, his blond curls bouncing. "Yes please," he replied, gently and precisely putting the two pictures Niklaus had drawn him safely inside two pieces of leather, which he clumsily tied together. "I'm gunna have my uncle put them in my two frames," he told Niklaus, looking up at the original. "Daddy bought them and told me that he'd be proud of me when I made art that brought in the money." He said, not noticing the flash of rage in the original's eyes.

"And you'll really show me your paintings?" He asked, blue eyes and face so much like Niklaus's own looking up at the original in curiosity. "And teach me how to do feathers and wings?" Elias asked, his small hand taking Niklaus's free one as the Original gathered his gifted drawings in the other. "You're the best dragon," the little boy stated as they left the kitchen, his art satchel and stuffed wolf in one hand, the other firmly gripping Niklaus's. "I wish I could stay with you during the Moon hunts," the young werewolf unconsciously added, pressing closer to Niklaus and breathing him in. "The big wolves who watch me get mad at missing the hunt to watch a dumb pup," he told Niklaus, frowning slightly. "And Auntie Katerina says I'm too small to join in--I'll get all smooshed up and hurt bad then everyone will be sad."

__________

Anders snarled, fangs bared as he sent yet another rowdy pack member away. Spotting his Alpha, he straightened, shaking off the dirt and dust from the recent fights. "Alpha," he murmured, bowing and showing the proper respect. "There's been sightings of two vampires--a male that smells of witch hazel and River Birch that travels with a redhead--they're making quite the headway and should arrive late tomorrow afternoon." He informed Elijah, perking up as Elijah smiled in genuine joy.

"Another werewolf pack has been slaughtered in France, as well---they died keeping quiet about a doppelganger vampire and Lord Lucian," he stated wiping some blood off of his face. "Alpha, I know it's not my place--that I'm only the beta, but I believe Astrid is not ready for patrol leadership," he stated firmly looking Elijah directly in the eye.

"I know Our Lady named her Patrol Leader, and I don't wish to contradict her, but a Patrol Leader is in charge of two wolves for an entire hour. They are expected to ensure a patrol's safety. I followed your orders and put Astrid with Diana, and Diana let her lead. Astrid nearly got them all killed," Anders reported dully, golden eyes flashing. "I've put her on village duties as punishment. Enid, however, is flourishing. I think her personality just didn't mesh with our Lady's," Anders said, cracking his knuckles. "Is there anything else that needs to be done? Ivar's and Finnick's guard patrols are at the castle until midmorning tomorrow."

________

Lucian puffed up, forcing his elbow back into place and fixing his prized necklace. "I am graceful, no matter what you and Quicksilver say," he shoots back, petting the large raven. "I was just about to set them out to go be our eyes in the air but....I don't know what Mikael looks like." He gently takes Kol's hand, squeezing it. "Part of the magic i had imbued into my flock is you can show them a picture from your mind and tell them if they're an enemy of not. They already know Finn's a friend, just like they knew you were-- "Luke's mate! Luke's mate!" Quicksilver croaked, as Lucian blushed, his eyes looking everywhere but Kol.

"A-anyway, just concentrate on what you dad looked like last time you saw him, what his scent is now and my flock will take care of the rest." He told Kol, smiling shyly. "It'll feel a bit weird, but it won't hurt. Then we can go get a snack. Maybe some oranges and blood and go cuddle or go make some blood orange so I'll have some for winter." He told his Kol, watching as his ravens drew closer, Quicksilver perching on his shoulders.

this would be fun to watch

[inforapound]

Ease The Dawn  P2 - Chapter 2

A/N - Please let me know if you want to be tagged. Or untagged. Had a lovely suggestion from an anon to write some Ivar and Aethelswith this week. Will update when I can. Chapter 1 on my MASTERLIST.

Warnings - Explicit sexual content

Words - 2,800 

"My hands are cold," Ivar whispered into the back of Aethelswith's neck. Sliding his hand up her side, he cupped her thinly covered breast. Sighing languidly, he closed his eyes, every part of his body craving her.

"And that is for warming them?" she whispered, eyes still closed as she dozed, enjoying the warmth beneath the heavy furs. Her lover's broad chest tight to her back and the brightness of the days' first light filtering through the wooden shutters.

"Odin would not have made them the size of my hand if they were not meant to rest there."

"Why do you think Odin made my breasts?" she smiled, not opening her eyes.

"Because he favours me."

"So, he made them for you?"

"No, he made you for me."

"Ah."

Smoothing his nose across the skin of her shoulder, he inhaled her scent, his mind felt at peace, utterly at ease and he knew, with every part of his being, that there would never be an end to his devotion to her. Nor his bottomless need to have her close, pressed together, as they were now, with the door locked and the world shuttered out, his lips sweeping across her ivory skin. Her soft mews, imprinted in his head.

Pushing her chest forward to stretch, her smile morphed into a yawn. Lifting his head from the pillow, he buried his face into the front of her throat, her pulse softly fluttering away under his tongue.

"Can I put my cock in you?"

"Ivar!" she laughed.

"Yes?" unable to hold his smile, he grated his teeth across her neck.

"Do not say such things."

"Why?"

"It is indecent."

"We can do indecent things, but we cannot speak of them?"

"Yes." She could feel the smirk on his face.

"Why?" he feigned confusion, greedy to hear her laugh again.

"I have no answer to that."

"You Christians are so fickle." Tilting his head, his lips gently pulled the skin of her ear. "So, I should just be Viking and not ask?"

Saying nothing, she pushed her bottom back into his bulging groin, instantly making him grind forward, his breath picking up against her ear.

"I see," he uttered, pushing his manhood against her. "Turn your head woman, I want to taste you."

Turning her upper body toward him, he pressed his mouth to hers. Unhurried, his upper lip traced across her pink lips, parting her mouth with his own, forcing him moan. The sound reminded Aethelswith of the purr of the kittens he had gifted her not long after their arrival.

Sliding his hand between her breasts and over her warm stomach, he grabbed the loose fabric of her nightdress, pulling and bunching it up over her waist. Pushing down the front of his linen trousers, he freed his stiff erection, pulling her harder against him. His mind drifted, as it sometimes did, to the countless nights and mornings he had spent alone before her. The anguish that was his life previous to her, asking the gods about his future and the purpose of his suffering. Knowing now, that the moment she had jumped from that black horse, running, screaming his name, she was the answer. The reward for his pain, his beautiful Aethelswith.

Reaching around her hip, he opened her legs, running his hand up and down her inner thigh. Sliding his fingers between her folds, he stopped, finding them wet. A flash of desire shot straight to his groin, pulling from him another moan. Nuzzling closer, he jutted his hardness into the crack of her behind.

"My sweet, you are still aroused from last night." Slowly he ran his fingers back and forth from her little pearl to her opening. Having recently learned the magic of that sensitive spot, he was fixated, every day, on bringing her pleasure.

Parting her knees further, she pushed her sex forward, eager for his touch. "Am I, or was I dreaming of you?"

Turning back, she kissed him again, reaching behind to grab his waiting cock. Guiding it down, she lifted her bottom, sliding it in between her legs. Pressing it firmly to her womanhood, she began to move her hips, his thick shaft slipping between her slick, sensitive folds. Unable to wait any longer, he grunted and tilted his hips, angling his tip toward her opening. Pressing in, his hand squeezed the side of her hip as she braced, arching her round bottom. Swearing under his breath, he paused, his length halfway in and hooked his forearm under her knee.

Whimpering his name, Aethelswith pushed back, sinking the rest of the way down until her behind was pressed against him, his length buried deep. Clutching each other, they both sighed, laying perfectly still, neither wanting to disturb the warm, perfect feeling.

"I want to stay like this," he murmured into her ear, "always." Exhaling loudly, he began to gently rock his hips. "How do I love you this much?" he whispered, closing his eyes; her effect on him making it hard to swallow.

"I am yours, Ivar," she uttered, pushing back in time with his every move. Lifting her arm, she slipped her hand around the back of his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair.

"My beautiful Aethelswith." Pressing his cheek to hers, he was aware that each stroke, every sensation made him more alive, no pain from the day, moving upright with braces, diluting his pleasure.

Increasing the pace, she bent forward pulling away from Ivar's chest. Brushing her long hair aside, he pushed up her thin shift, exposing the curve of her spine. Running his hand over the scarred flesh of her back, the pads of his fingers intimate with every scratch and detail. Reaching up, he gripped the back of her small neck, claiming her body and picking up the speed of his thrusts.

A tightening pulled deep in his loins causing him to slow. No, no, no, he thought, unwilling for their intimacy to end so quickly.

"My sweet?"

Straightening her body, she pressed back against his chest, turning her head, her blue eyes searched his.

"Can you climb on top?"

"Of course," she smiled, accustomed to this often being his most comfortable position. Kissing his lips one last time, she moved away and climbed up onto her knees.

Grabbing her hips, he stopped her. "Can you face away from me?"

"Away?" Furrowing her brow, she was unsure of his meaning.

"Let me sit up." Heaving himself upright, he shifted his pillow higher, leaning back against the carved headboard. "Okay," he flashed her boyish smile.

She did not move. "Ivar, my bottom will be right in your line of sight."

"And it will be glorious," he grinned making her laugh. Turning, she lifted her leg over his waist to straddle him. Pausing, she looked back over her shoulder.

"Yes, my sweet. Just like that," he encouraged. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on her waist, reaching between her legs. Coating his fingers in her wetness, he brought them to his mouth, his lids falling closed as he licked her taste. Holding his cock straight, he guided her down and she paused to adjust to the unfamiliar angle. Slipping down onto his full length, she exhaled sharply, the sensation causing her mouth to drop wide, his body filling hers completely and in a new way. Leaning forward, she pressed her hands into the bed between his thin bare calves, her behind open to his view.

Flexing his hips up, she let out a breathy moan, starting to rise and grind back down. Gently rolling her pelvis forward, Ivar hissed. The desire to thrust spurred on by the site of his shaft sinking deep into the back of her pink opening. Rocking upwards in a barely restrained rhythm, he spread her cheeks wider, staring at her entrances as she dropped her head forward, increasing her own pace.

"You are so perfect," he groaned. "You are a goddess, my queen." He was unable to stop his hips from rutting.

Cursing loudly, he straightened to sit, yanking her back to his chest. Both hands on her breasts, bracing her body, lifting her up and down, in time with him.

"I love you, Aethelswith," he murmured, continuing to jut his hips, their skin growing tacky from their urgent movements. Running his hands up her sides and shoulders, down her slender back, her whimpers broke into breathy pants as Ivar drove harder into her.

"I still cannot believe you are mine," he threw himself back against his pillow, his hips pushing up to meet hers, his hands skimming the back of her round parted cheeks.

"Ivar?" she rushed in a frantic voice, looking to the side. "It is happening. It is starting my love."

"Do not stop." Grabbing her hips, he pushed and pulled her over his grinding cock, snarling as his breath became frantic and his mouth fell open, eyes staying fixed on the back of her ass. "That is it my sweet. I am so close."

"Ivar," she whined, "I love you. I love you," she cried, over and over again. "I love you." Panting as her legs began to tremble, she dropped her chin to her chest and her body shuddered, her womb squeezing, pulsing around him, milking him gently. Growling out a shriek, Ivar thrust up one last time, exploding deep inside her, his body tingling as if he had just rolled in nettles.

Sitting forward, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. Leaning her head back against his shoulders, she smiled, her mouth dry, her body feeling small within his powerful arms.

"I love you, Ivar," she whispered again.

"Mmm." His lips ran across her skin.

"We need water. Let me up love," she said quietly.

Attempting to rise, he tightened his arms around her, holding her in place.

"No."

"Did I hurt your legs?"

"I do not want my seed to spill out."

"Why?"

"I am putting a baby boy into you right now."

"Ivar!"

"Ubbe told Hvitserk once that you will have a boy if you do it from behind. I cannot kneel behind you so I thought you could just turn around while on top."

"We cannot."

"Aethelswith, until you, I never thought I would ever lay with a woman. I am going to at least try and give you a child."

"No, my love, that is not what I meant." Sighing, she shook her head. "Please let me up."

Furrowing his brow, he released her, slumping back against his pillow, his plump lower lip automatically pouting.

Crawling to sit at the edge of the bed, she pulled her crumpled nightdress down. Standing, she walked to the table on the far wall, pouring each of them a mug of water. Returning, she held out the cup and he refused to reach for it, keeping his eyes locked with her. Unwilling to provoke, she lifted her brows, setting it down on the nightstand next to his favourite ax. Leaving him to his stew, she slipped behind the wicker screen to wash and ready for the day.

"Woman, are you going to talk to me?" he called, sounding more hurt than angry.

Moving out from behind the screen, she pulled a long-sleeved blue dress over her shoulders, smoothing it down her body. One of the many beautiful dresses Ivar had gifted her, along with colorful shawls and extravagant jewelry. Scoffing, her fingers fumbled with the drawstring ties at her bust and she glanced up to him, his eyes locked on her and dark with emotion.

"Ivar, we cannot have a child."

"Why?" he quipped.

"You know why." Anger flashed across her face, annoyed that their previous, numerous, discussions on the topic were not worth him remembering.

"No, I do not," he snapped, sounding like a child.

"You are the king now."

"Exactly," he bobbed his head.

"I have no place here yet."

"What are you talking about?" he sneered. "You are my woman. My queen. You will rule with me."

"Ivar," she whispered,  looking over at the door, worried the guards may hear them. "I am not your queen. Your people will never accept me as such. Me, coming here nearly caused a rebellion and your warriors felt deceived. The truth is, we are not married, and I am not Viking."

"Then, let us marry. I ask you nearly every day. It is you who stops us." Lowering his eyes, his hands squeezed the furs on the bed. "The army has been paid. The people will accept you. They will never speak out against me." Looking back up, he cocked his head to one side. "They have no choice but to accept you. You will be my queen."

"Marry you?" Throwing her hands up, she shook her head. "How do you fathom we can marry? I am already married. Everything I have been doing is...."

"Wrong?" Ivar barked. "It is wrong? How could anything between us ever be wrong, Aethelswith?"

Looking down to the floor, her fist clenched and her nails dug into the fleshy part of her palm as her eyes searching the wooden floorboards for the words that might finally hold some meaning.

"Your marriage was over the second he forced himself on you. It was over when you chose me. Long before we sailed here."

"Not in the eyes of God," she muttered, not looking up.

"Some God you worship," he spat. "Show your God your mutilated back."

Her eyes shot up to his and she huffed, walking back to the table against the wall and finishing her cup of water.

"Ivar," she turned to face him, "as long as Burgred is alive, I am his wife. I can never be another's."

"You are not his wife!" he roared. The force of his voice, making him sit forward in the bed. "Do not say his name in our chambre again." Air shot from his nose and he looked up, his eyes roaming the ceiling. "And," he looked back to her, the volume of his voice dropping low, "you will not be another's wife....not another's....you will be mine. My wife! You already are. You are my queen. I can easily kill that man. I will, I just cannot sail for England so soon after squelching the uproar."

"I need air."

"You mean you need to get away from me."

"Stop Ivar," she rushed, grabbing her shawl from the trunk at the end of their bed, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"I need you," his voice cried out, sounding like a sob. Resting his head back against the headboard, he watched her. "There is no me without you now."

Closing her eyes, his words cut into her heart. The sentiment causing her chest to ache. Opening her eyes, she glanced to him, her cheeks were beginning to flush.

"You feel me, Aethelswith, as I feel you. I can see it on you now. On your skin. Nothing will ever stop our love. If you sailed away or swam to the bottom of the ocean. Even if I died Aethelswith, we will never end."

Turning her back to him, she sat on the trunk, pulling on her leather shoes. She could feel Ivar's hurt boring into her back, the sensation was like sitting too near a fire.

"I am going for a walk. Go ahead and eat without me."

Not allowing herself to soothe his hurt, she had to leave. Put space between herself and his asphyxiating notions. Hold her ground and not slip under the dark waters of his temper.

Looking back at his intoxicating blue eyes would only remind her that she would never want to be unladen from him. Never want to be free from his domination or need. She would infallibly and willingly succumb and drown in her love for him. She knew she would.

"You are not to leave this hall," he ordered, his voice sounding cold.

Spinning on the trunk, she squinted. "I am your captive again?"

Not responding, he clenched his jaw, his eyes struggling to hold her stare.

"Do not leave this hall without two guards." Turning, he picked up his ax from the table, spinning the blade over to look at the edge. "Do not be too long. Please. I hate eating without you." Glancing to her, his eyes quickly returned to the sharp edge of the ax.

Adjusting the lavender shawl around her shoulders, she stood and crossed the room, opening the door. Ivar's wounded eyes glanced up again as she hesitated in the threshold. Returning to his side, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Closing his eyes, he dropped the ax onto the bed, sighing softly into her kiss, the strain in his body holding tight. Straightening, she peered down to his conflicted face, still no sign that his mind would ease.

"I will not be too long," she whispered.

Turning to move away, he grabbed her hand stopping her.

"I love you, Aethelswith."

Looking back, her eyes swept over his perfect, cherub face.

"I love you, Ivar."

He tightened his hand on hers. "Forever?" his eyes widened.

"Forever, my love."

.

MASTERLIST

@naaladareia​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @yanii-the-hippie​ @medievalfangirl​ @lol-haha-joke​ @fangirl-nonsense​ @ceridwenofwales​ @naaladareia​ @whenimaunicorn​ @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @geekandbooknerd​ @readsalot73​ @tephi101​ @jaydelesley4​ @silly-bullshit-collector​ @sweeneythots​ @londongal2810​ @justanothershelby​ @yourpurplequeen​ @didiintheblog​ @youbelongeverywhere @mdredwine​ @redama​ @snarkyanimecartooncon @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @thiahilmarsdottir​