#ivar lothbrok imagine

[kaivenom]

How are the viking's men when you raid together...

Warnings: small hints of suggested themes

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

Absolutely in love.

He is the more excited of the brothers to get you into raids.

Of course he fears about your safety but if you are with Ivar it's clearly that you know how to handle things like this.

Seeing you all covered in blood of your enemies, with weapons on your hands and that exhausted look, made him think you are a valkirie.

He gives you trinkets, even when the city has been destroyed and all the treasures of the city belong now to the vikings, he still gives you things he sees on another woman.

Sometimes you don't like how he gets after fights, becuase sadism in battles is good but tortures after that, no.

You try to reproach him about it, at first he gets angry, then he tries to be less sadist after that.

At the end, raiding with Ivar is a big adventure.

Ubbe Ragnarson

Very protective.

Expect him to be your shadow, attached to your side every second.

He kisses you after battle, he says he doesn't want to be in Valhalla without feeling your lips one last time.

In battle you both are always together, fighting in complete synchrony.

One thing he does when the battle ends that drives you crazy is kissing you. You both covered in dust and blood, exhausted from battling and he just goes to you with feral eyes, drops the sword/axe and kisses you furiously.

He doesn't like to make you gifts from the raids but instead you are the one who grants him things, he smiles like a child everytime.

Hvitserk Ragnarson

He thinks it's the best thing you both could do.

Like a vacation for the two of you, seeing new places and trying new food.

All the things he gains during the raids are YOUR things too, he gifts you everything he can.

He ussually tents to follow some jokes from other vikings about taking woman from the raids.

After seeing your face full of disgust, he never does it again, he wouldn't support seeing your eyes look at him like that again.

He always finds the higher spot on the place to spent the evening after raiding, organizing a picnic above all the bloody chaos of the under.

Sigurd Ragnarson

He doesn't like you going, he doesn't like going either.

You both only go when it's necesary because of his family.

When you are there, you both prefer to watch out the camp rather than enter in battle.

In fact, probably you are better warrior that him, so you protect him during the battles.

Being on the camp he always plays instruments to calm himself, and because of that you lay next to him and relax yourself too.

After battle he goes straight to your side and hughs you tightly, other vikings mock him about his not-so-manly behaviour.

Bjorn Ironside

He doesn't really care.

He thinks you can handle yourself, but unlike the others, that makes him let you get lost around.

He just watches you from afar with a serious face, expecting the unexpected.

A small grin appears on his face every once in a while, thinking about how badass you look.

The sight of seeing you covered in blood makes you look so desirable, he has to restrain himself from taking you right there.

You have to endure his cheater behaviour with foreign woman and getting slves everywhere.

But after battle you are euphoric and decide to put him on place.

[collecting-stories]

Willow - Ivar the Boneless

Summary: Feast night in Kattegat, some pretty shameless flirting.

A/N: I haven't written vikings in forever but part of this was in my drafts from like, last year and I finally finished it this morning.

TS Anthology Masterlist | Vikings Masterlist

✰ wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark ✰

The lanterns that lined the path from the village to the fjord were lit, glowing a warm orange beneath the ever darkening sky. There were soft sounds of a lyre playing somewhere just beyond your line of sight, settling a trance over the whole of the village as you made your way through smaller parties that gathered outside of the great hall, enchanted by the warm night. Feast nights were always your favorite, less of a formality than a festival or a celebration, you weren't so watched on a feast night as you were other times. 

"Have you come to join the dancing?"

Still, there were some whose gaze you never quite seemed to escape. As you addressed the rustling of bushes near your knees, you peered down in the dim light to find Ivar, stakes dug into the ground as he frowned up at you, obviously not amused by the playful teasing. 

"Perhaps someone could string me up like those nonsensical dolls they bring to market, wouldn't you enjoy that?" He retorted, thinking of the countless times he'd requested his mother have the man with the marionettes killed. Or punished violently, he wasn't picky. 

You bent your knees, squatting down so your butt hovered over the grass, reaching a hand out to stroke Ivar's cheek. He leaned his face into your touch, turning his head just so to brush his lips to your open palm.

"You think I am making fun of you? You forget then, I have felt the way you move against me when we are beneath the furs on your bed my love, there is no dance I long for more." You replied. 

Ivar huffed, tilting his head down just enough to nip at your exposed wrist, "now I know you are playing with me." He replied, "I should have you strung up like that marionettes."

When you smiled he couldn't deny the triumphant feeling that gripped his heart, as if some unknown force was saying 'look, you who is so plagued by hideous feelings and darkness, you have made the sun shine in the dead of night'. 

"You would enjoy that." You repeated his words back to him, a statement this time and not a question. 

Carefully, so that you didn't fall over completely, you stood back up, brushing your hands down the front of your clothing. Ivar watched you as the doors to the great hall sung open and more people filed out, shouting and laughing with each other. The lights inside the building and the ruckus had drawn your attention for a split second but then your gaze was back on Ivar, the soft light of the lanterns shining on his face and illuminating his blue eyes. 

"Shall we take our leave?" You asked, sounding somewhat conspiratorial as you watched him. 

Despite the informality of the feast, you were certain your parents would notice if you were gone for too long or if you left early. They'd been careful with you ever since you'd come of age, cautious of who took an interest in their youngest child. Though they knew better than to speak out of turn about the disabled son of Ragnar Lothbrok, you could see, and so could most everyone else, that he was not who they wanted you to spend time with. Ivar knew, certainly. He'd seen the disdainful looks but it rarely deterred him. Ivar had always been someone who got exactly what he wanted, whether through temper tantrums, deceit, manipulation, or someone's misguided pity. Still, he looked almost surprised at the suggestion, though it only showed for a split second before he was schooling his expression to a neutral one. 

"I thought feast nights were your favorite? Don't you want to celebrate all who have returned from raiding?" He asked, shifting his weight so he could look up at you with more ease.

"Of course I want to," you replied, ignoring the first of his questions, "but I don't think I need anyone in there watching me celebrate your safe return."

Ivar's face flushed up to his ears and you smiled in satisfaction. "You are worse than Loki with your tricks." 

"What tricks?" You asked, sitting this time, your legs crossed in front of you and knees brushing against his hands. You leaned forward, your face as close to Ivar's as you could be without touching him, "don't you want to celebrate?" 

"What would your father say, hm?" Ivar hummed, secretly thrilled when your hand found its place cradling his face again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. 

"Are you really more interested in discussing my father?" You asked, "when I am famished and have been waiting since the ships first crested the horizon to feast?"

"Were you not just in the great hall?" Ivar questioned, squinting in the dim lantern light so that he could appraise your words. 

"I was. You weren't though and I have been eager to sink my teeth into you," you teased, snapping playfully at him. 

The flush was back on Ivar's cheeks tenfold, flustered by the very suggestion that you wanted to be with him. It wasn't the first time you and he had laid together. Thank god for that, Ivar thought briefly as you stood again, stepping off the path and back toward the bushes that Ivar had come out of before. 

Your first time together had been awkward and slightly painful and he had been embarrassed for some weeks afterward that you would be hesitant to speak to him again, let alone allow him in your bed. Some goddess had blinded you with love or lust or adoration though because you seemed so taken with him from then on that you often sought him out, much to his own excitement. Ivar was just as adoring and in love as you were, if not more. While it was more than true that he got exactly what he wanted all the time, it was always better when he was wanted back. 

"Are you coming?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. 

"Yes. You'll notice it is a bit more difficult to turn around when you're unable to stand up." He grumbled, digging his stakes into the ground as he shifted himself around to follow you. 

"Perhaps, but I do so enjoy watching you."

"Humorous is it?" Ivar snapped, missing the way you smiled at his sour disposition. 

"Not the word I would use," you replied. "Is a snake in the grass humorous? Or is it beautiful? Dangerous? Exciting?" 

"I am a snake now?"

"Oh, most assuredly my love, you are full of venom. Though, I would gladly let you bite me." You teased, watching him as he caught up with you. 

"You have not let me yet," he replied, looking far more sour at that remark than at anything else you'd said all night.

"Patience."

He huffed, "I have endured a treacherous ocean, armies of men, illness, injury, near death...and you tell me to have patience?"

"Just for a simple kiss." You replied, as if it was nothing to him, "you have brought riches back with you...surely that means more than a simple kiss."

Ivar tugged your ankle as you stepped closer to him, knocking your legs out from under you and watching with satisfaction as you fell to the ground. 

"Ivar!" You laughed, uninjured and no less enamored with him than you had been before. He smiled, devious grin lighting up his features in the dark as he crawled over you, staking the ground over your sleeve so that you couldn't move away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I have no patience," he replied, "I shall have my feast here."

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Vikings (TV Series)

Ivar Lothbrok

Solace - (Somewhat)Romantic/Panic Attack/Canon Violence - Ivar x F!Reader

Bjorn Lothbrok

Despair and Dishonour - Loss of a child/Hospitals/Modern!Au - Bjorn & Nurse!Reader

Halfdan

Careful - Romantic/Musician!Au/Hospital/Fun - Halfdan x Doctor!Reader

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

[1-800-choke-me]

Hvitserk: I sleep with an axe under my pillow

Ubbe: I sleep with a knife under mine

Y/N: you're both pathetic

Hvitserk: oh yeah, than what do you sleep with?

Y/N: Ivar

[midnightstar16]

Whispers of Love: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Reader is new in Kattegat and catches the attention of a certain Ragnarsson.

Warnings: Assault, murder, slight swearing(i think)

You came to Kattegat just a couple days ago but it didn’t take much time at all for you to notice the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. You only saw them from a safe distance as they talked to one another. You noticed one of the boys was crippled but not before you saw his face. You were in awe, to say the least. But your eyes must have lingered on him for quite some time for he met your gaze with an intense stare that sent chills down your spine. You never had more reason to leave and go back to the hut you were staying in.

You became an orphan at the mere age of 12 and had taken care of the farm for many years with your older brother. But the two of you had recently decided that you wanted a far more exciting future than just farming on the land so you sold the land and took the money to buy a hut and look after yourself just until you had settled in. You forgot about Ivar soon enough once you reached you new home and moved on with your new life.

A month passed by and living in Kattegat was so much more different than the farm. It was much louder, faster and there were more people than you could count. But it was not to your dislike, it was the contrary actually. You had started your training to be a physician and you were doing nicely. Everything was working out better than you or your brother could’ve imagined.

Ivar had not stopped thinking about you ever since that little eye contact in the market and it may have been a bit delusional of him to still believe that he would see you again. You were probably not even in Kattegat anymore because he could not find you anywhere. You were the first girl to look at him with such admiration and he drowned in your beauty the second he laid eyes on you.

During dinner he seemed to have zoned out because Sigurd had to throw some food at him to get his attention. Ivar was immediately annoyed and glared at him. Trying to stop himself from flinging his axe at his brother, he asked, “Why are you throwing food around like a child?”

“You wouldn’t listen. Had to do something to bring you back to Midgard,” he replied.

Ivar rolled his eyes, already feeling great anger towards his brother but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted, “We are celebrating Yol tomorrow.”

Ivar drowned in his thoughts once more. He would know if you were in Kattegat by tomorrow night. If you were in the town, then you would be at the feast and he would approach you. He wanted to know all there was to know about you; all the important and unimportant things of your life.

You and Kalf, your brother began cleaning up the plates and horns after dinner. You broke the silence, “It is Yol tomorrow. There will be a great feast.”

“Yes, I have not been in the Great Hall since the Thing, where I got my arm ring. Just thinking about the food that will be there makes me hungry all over again,” Kalf spoke excitedly.

“We have just had dinner, you fool. How are you always this hungry?” You spoke laughingly.

“Your cooking will make any man excited to eat something else,” he commented.

Gasping, you threw the nearest thing you could find at him at which he simply laughed. You spoke sarcastically, “I won’t make food for you if you really hate it that much.”

“Well, I mean it’s not THAT bad if I think about it,” he retaliated.

Smiling smugly, you spoke, “Better.”

The feast was spectacular. You sat on a different table from your brother though because you knew he would embarrass you the first chance he got. The food and the ale was so good you could feast all night. There was music as well and many were dancing to it but you weren’t drunk enough yet to give yourself away to the music. You simply talked and laughed with your newly made friends.

Looking around the hall, you suddenly noticed certain eyes on you and then the memory came back. Those blue piercing eyes and that face, he was perfect in every way. You maintained the eye contact for long, getting lost in his eyes until one of your friends whispered, “That’s Ivar. The crippled one.”

You looked at her. You had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok’s crippled son. The girl continued, “They say he is a menace, quicker to anger than most men, so don’t let his legs fool you and not only that, but I’ve heard that he is stronger and better at fighting than any of his brothers. Apparently he strangled a boar with his bare hands but that is probably not true.”

“Of course it is not true,” you scoffed. After waiting a second, you suggested, “Come, let us dance. The music is lovely.”

The both of you giggled and rushed to give yourself away to the music. You soon felt the beat through your veins and the rhythm matching with your heartbeat. You danced uncontrollably, partly because you wanted to see how the crippled prince would react, if at all. His eyes had barely faltered from you and it was making you uncomfortable but you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want him to know that he made you feel weak by simply looking at you but every now and then you would give him a glance.

You suddenly felt a hand around your waist. You didn’t know who the man was for you had never seen him. His hold on you was not budging when you struggled. His other hand was roaming at places on your body that made you terrified and the hall was crowded enough for no one to truly notice your struggle.

“Let go of me!” you said, struggling.

“Oh what’s a bit of harmless fun? Especially with a woman of your beauty,” the man spoke.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to ‘dance’ and play around with your body until something that you hadn’t expected in a million years to happen. A knife suddenly struck his head as his eyes remained widened with shock. You quickly stepped away as his body fell to the ground. The tears ran down your face and you looked around trying to figure out who it was until you saw everyone looking at Ivar who was glaring at the man’s limp body. It was different to how he had looked at you in every singly way but you didn’t stay around to find out more. Feeling absolutely overwhelmed, you stormed out of the hall with Kalf following.

“What happened back there?” Kalf spoke worriedly.

“I-…” you hesitated. Before you could speak, your brother interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me. It is fine… Come on, let us go to our hut.”

Ivar had had his eyes on you all evening, his brothers even teasing him about it but he quickly turned them away angrily. But when he saw that asshole trying to touch you without consent, Ivar felt an uncontrollable anger. He wanted to skin the bastard alive but he couldn’t simply watch you struggle like that. Even after killing the man, Ivar felt no guilt. Why should he? He was simply protecting you, making sure you were safe.

No one had asked him about why he had done what he did. Perhaps it was already too obvious. Perhaps he had scared you off. You wouldn’t even want to go near him now. He felt his insecure thoughts weighing him down during the night.

You barely slept through the night, the picture of the knife piercing the man’s skull replaying in your mind and then seeing the look Ivar had on his face. That menacing look, the one that could take down entire armies.

The next day, you went away from the town to feel the quiet of nature that you had already begun to miss. You walked around the forest, finding a riverbank to sit nearby quickly enough. You thought about what had happened last night, how, in some really fucked up way, Ivar saved you. But he also killed a man who will never experience Valhalla now. Then again, that monster didn’t deserve Valhalla. You sat there wondering what would’ve happened if Ivar had not intervened.

“Mind if I join you?” you heard a voice from behind. When you turned your head and saw that it was Ivar, you quickly stood up.

“Were you following me?” you realised in this moment, you were terrified of him.

“Will it help if I said no? Either way, you walk too fast so I had to find you myself,” he spoke. When you didn’t say anything, it didn’t take him long enough to realise how you felt, “You are scared of me.”

Scoffing, you reasoned, “Who wouldn’t be? You killed a man while I was simply inches away.”

“He was hurting you,” Ivar remarked as if that was reason enough.

“But you could’ve killed me,” you argued.

Ivar grinned, “I didn’t though, did I?”

“Well… No but still, it was terrifying,” you said while Ivar made himself comfortable by sitting against the trunk of a fallen tree.

Even though Ivar worked very hard to not show it, he had been very nervous to actually talk to you. Now that you were here, he didn’t want to ever leave.

You stood there silently before sitting down in front of him. What was it about him that you felt so drawn towards?

He looked at you lovingly, “What is your name?”

“Y/N is what they call me… But I already know who you are, Ivar,” you acknowledged.

“Do you?” Ivar joked.

“That anger in those gorgeous eyes of yours, how could you be mistaken?” you replied.

“My eyes are ‘gorgeous’?” he couldn’t control his smile.

You blushed, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t mind the compliment though, please, y/n, carry on about my gorgeous eyes,” he teased. Truth was, he felt a thousand butterflies. He’d never gotten a compliment from anyone.

The two of you continued making jokes at one another, laughing constantly and time flew by ever so quickly. Ivar couldn’t believe the sun was about to set. With you, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He felt at peace.

When his brothers asked where he had been, he simply smiled and shrugged. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel furious. There was something about you, like you were a goddess who appeared to save him. The next day Ivar went up to the same place, hoping you would show up. He was almost about to leave until he saw you show up.

You finished your work as a physician for the day as quickly as you could and relied on your friends to cover up for you. Once out of Kattegat, you practically ran to the same spot on the riverbank as yesterday. You didn’t know how but you just knew that he would be there, nor did you know why you felt so eager to go to him either.

You continued these secret meetings for as long as you could. No one was aware of who or where you actually went but you didn’t care even if they found out. Ivar had become your sanctuary as you had become his.  

During one such evening, as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank, you found yourselves lost in a conversation filled with laughter. Ivar had a knack for weaving humor into every exchange, and you found yourself charmed by his wit and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Ivar grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth. "See? I told you I was the funniest person you'd ever meet."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth filling his eyes. "I'm glad you find me amusing, y/n."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. "You have a way with words, Ivar."

He chuckled softly. "Only when I'm with you."

The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and before you could think, you found yourself leaning in closer to him.

Ivar's hand gently brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "You're beautiful when you laugh, y/n."

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Ivar reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. His touch was tender, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

As your lips clashed with an overdue feeling of affection for one another, Ivar kissed you passionately and possessively almost as if declaring that you were his.

You pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you found yourself lost in Ivar's eyes once more, a sense of belonging settling deep within your soul.

“I am yours, y/n, now and forever and you are mine,” Ivar’s words echoed in your heart as you buried your eyes in his, expressing a thousand unspoken words.

[woahhhgwendolyn]

Being Married To Ivar Would Include...

-Ivar being really protective over you in every single way possible. He would fight anyone who tries to mess with you or try and take you away from him.

-Him wanting to make sure that you are safe no matter what and always has someone go with you in the village does not matter if it is him or some other warrior going with you.

-During feasts he always has you sit with him. He does not want you to feel alone or have to sit with another man. So, he just wants you to sit with him.

-When you both are in bed, he loves to cuddle with you and be with you all throughout the night. Sometimes, he lets you cuddle him from behind but his most favorite is when he is laying down on his back and then you just lay your head on his chest.

-You both always having fun no matter what is going on. Everyone always notices that you both are always smiling around each other and making each other laugh at any time possible.

-Him always being super gentle with you. He is always gentle touching you. He always makes sure that when he hugs you or even when you both cuddle that he is being gentle and soft with you.

-His brothers have had a small crush on you at some point but have let it go because they had realized that you were staying with Ivar for a long time.

-His brothers liking you and thinking that you are a good fit for him and could handle all of his crazy tendencies.

-Ragnar and Aslaug liking you as well and treating you as if you are their own family and talking to you as such as well.

[zapreportsblog]

❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

[ubbesbabymama]

Their friend is pregnant, pt. 2.

↳ Pairing. Hvitserk The Berserker, Sigurd Snake in The Eye, Ivar The Boneless.

↳ Summary. How would they react to their dear friend being pregnant. [I imagine this with them having the same kind of friendship that Ragnar had with Athelstan but with the reader].

↳ Warnings. Violence, death, abusive relationships, smut/mention of sex.

↳ Note. A second part so I could write the ones that are left because is just so much fun to write this plot.

Part one.

Hvitserk The Berserker.

He adores you, he genuinely thinks you’re the only perfect person on earth and he would do anything to protect you from anybody, even himself.

He is busy between a thrall’s legs, making everything in his power to make her scream his name, thrusting like a madman when he hears his name being called and he stops right away. That’s not the thrall’s voice.

“Hvitserk,” You sob and he can’t help but to pull out and push the woman, running to you while fixing his pants.

“Come here, come here,” He mumbles, taking you in his arms and walking to another room that doesn’t smell like sex.

He sits on the floor in front of a bonfire with you on his lap, and you move around till your legs are around him just like he is around you. You move again and he grunts.

“D-Don’t move too much,” He whispers.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry, forgive—,” You try to move but he grips your thighs. “Hvitserk.”

“Forget everything else and tell me why are you crying,” He says. “Talk to me.”

“Why do I have to talk to you while your cock is poking into my backside?” You ask him and he grunts again, this time because of your stubbornness.

“That is because I got interrupted while I was getting it down, now, talk to me or I am going to take my axe and go look for the information myself.” He threatens.

You sigh and clean your face a little before looking at him.

“I am with child.”

“That’s not true,” He chuckles and panics when your eyes start to fill with tears, and he takes your face in his hands. “Wait— no, no, no sweat heart.”

“Y-You don’t believe me either,” You sob in his hands and he shakes his head.

“I thought it was another one of your pranks, I apologize little one,” You nod, sobbing. He frowns. “Either?”

“He kicked me out of the house… literally,” You whisper, rolling your dress to show him your scratched knees, you show him your hands and they’re scratched too. “He said I cheated on him, that a whore like me could find a man to breed me really fast just so I could trap—,”

You stop talking when Hvitserk moves you around, standing up and taking you with him. He puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the room and back to his room. In silence he takes off your dirty dress and tosses it to the side, he looks around for a moment and comes back with a shirt of him, he helps you put it on.

“I’m going to be right back, get under the covers,” He quietly says, you shake your head, and he sighs. “Under the covers, please.”

“You’re going to kill him.” You whisper.

“Of course, I’m going to kill him, for starters, I gave you that house, he has no right to kick you out, and second, while you’re with child?” He snorts with malice.

“Hvitserk,” He looks at you and holds your stare to let you know that he is not backing down. You nod to yourself and kiss his cheek. “I’ll wait for you awake.”

You know he is back when some thralls enter the room with the tub, he enters right behind them and you gasp, he is bathed in blood, from the hair to his boots.

“What in Odin’s green earth did you do to him?!” You ask alarmed, he shrugs and starts to take his clothes off in front of you and the thralls. “Hvitserk!”

“I tied him to a tree and started beating him,” He looks up slowly, his eyes cold. “I beat him till his last breath.”

“You’re insane,” You whisper, getting out of bed when he gets inside the tub. You start to undo his braids.

“For you, I can be worse than Ivar, you know this already.” He chants, not a single trace of regret on his face.

“Yeah well, you killed the abusive father of my child,” You roll your eyes. “So it’s safe to say that you’re now a father.”

He smirks.

“Great.”

Sigurd Snake In The Eye.

Everybody could see how much you mean to him, it was as obvious as the fact that the sun would shine every day. When it comes to you he knows no reason or shame, going as far as to beg if he needs to.

“I-I can’t find her,” He murmurs when all his brothers are gathered to hunt.

“Who?” Ubbe asks.

“What do you mean you can’t find her? It’s almost as if you live together,” Hvitserk jokes.

“I think her husband has something to do with her suddenly disappearing.” He swallows and just now everybody feels the tension in the air. “I-I need help, please.”

Suddenly Ivar starts crawling away and everybody looks at him, he stops and looks back directly at Sigurd.

“What are you doing there? We have to find her.” He grunts and in no time Sigurd is by his side.

That’s how much you mean to Sigurd, so much that even his younger brother whom he always argues about anything not dare to joke around.

And he finds you, in a small cabin deep in the woods, thanks to Hvitserk’s insight in the town he founds that your husband owns this cabin for when he goes hunting alone.

He enters the cabin and sucks a breath when he sees you in a corner hugging your legs. He takes one step and your husband comes out and pulls you by the hair, you yelp.

“If you get close I will kill them both!” He screams and Sigurd frown.

“Who’s them?” He whispers to himself, and you sob.

“You didn’t tell him? You’re carrying his child and you didn’t—,”

“Because it’s not his!” You cry, looking at Sigurd and his stare makes you stop trembling a little. You’re safe, Sigurd is here.

Suddenly an arrow enters from behind Sigurd, right on top of his head, and embedded right onto your husband’s head, him being so tall makes it easy for the archer to shoot without fearing it would hit you.

Sigurd looks behind him and nods to Ubbe, who just nods back and starts walking back with his brother, leaving him with you.

He opens his arms and watches how you run and jump on him, his arms sliding around you, one on your thigh and the other on your waist.

“I’m here now, shh…” He comforts you while walking till he leans on a wall. “Nobody can’t hurt you anymore.”

You sob on his neck and he hums.

“I’m tired,” You murmur and he nods.

He takes you back to the town and directly into his room and orders the thralls to prepare a bath for you. When everything’s ready he undresses you and lets you get inside the tub, he’s about to start looking for clothes for you but your grip on his hand stops him.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m getting in with you,” He says to calm you down and when he sees you expectant he undresses and gets inside too, behind you.

He starts to caress your belly, he supposed you haven’t seen your monthly blood and that’s why you know you’re with child since it’s not clear in your belly.

“You’re going to start living here,” He whispers in your ear. “So I can take care of you better.”

“You have obligations,” You whisper.

“And you’re the main one,” He hums. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Ivar The Boneless.

Nobody understands how you can stand Ivar, with the man being borderline obsessed with you. The only reason why you can lay with men is that he is certain that he can’t satisfy a woman and he would rather be burned alive than disappoint you from all people, but other than that, he lets no man get close to you unless you directly tell him that you chose that man to warm your chambers, he has bodyguards for you, thralls for you, he gives you a quarter of everything he owns or gets. Even when he goes raiding everybody knows that a lot of the goods are yours and yours only. That’s how obsessed Ivar The Boneless is with you.

Of course, it’s almost impossible to hide things from him, more so with the people in town being so eager to bring him information about you just to be favored, so as soon as you’re being yelled at and tossed around by the Viking Ivar is notified.

“You think after three times you can already be with child?! Do you think I’m stupid?!” The man was yelling at you, but you weren’t backing down. No sir.

“After ONE time of laying together, I can already be with child, or do you think your seed is so weak you need more than once? even more than three? Poor you.” You mock and gasp when he pushes you, making you fall onto your backside, you whimper at the burn in your hands for breaking the fall.

“I should just kill you and that bastard right now!” He yells, and you spit on your side in response.

“Who?” You freeze, feeling chills run down your spine. That voice only means problems, and a lot of them. “Who are you going to kill? My woman?”

You feel him right beside you, leaning on his crutch. He looks down at you and nods and you nod back, slowly standing up.

“L-Lord I-Ivar,” The man stuttered.

“So? You’re going to kill my woman, you say?” Ivar says, his tone friendly but his eyes, oh those eyes.

“N-no, no my lord,” The man keeps stuttering. “It’s this woman who says she’s carrying my child.”

Ivar face snaps to the side, looking at you while anger starts to bubble in his system, a burning feeling in his chest, he squints his eyes at you and silently you start to pray to the gods for the life of the man.

“When I was hunting and you were keeping me company, that was your last month bleeding, right?” Ivar says and he’s not actually asking, he knows that information, for he’s the one you always go to when you’re in pain, but you nod anyways. “And he pushed you while you’re carrying a child?”

You nod again.

“Yes, Ivar.” The man grimaces when he hears you call Ivar by his name and without honorifics, why nobody told him he was laying with someone so important? “He did.”

Ivar’s face slowly turns to the man, and he grins.

“Now I have to decide whether you die—,”

“Ivar can I—,” You start but are interrupted.

“NO!” He snaps, pointing at you with his finger. “You do not get to save him from this, you do not get a saying this time!”

“Ivar,” Your own anger makes you grind your teeth. “Can I go home? My feet are hurting and I need to get a healer for my hands.”

He blinks and looks down at your bloody hands from the fall before, he sighs, feeling bad at the way he talked to you when you weren’t even trying to help the man.

“I’ll finish this quickly,” Ivar says and in the blink of an eye, the man is being dragged by Ivar’s men while crying and babbling apologies.

You don’t let Ivar say anything more and start walking home and when you get there you ask for a healer and after being done with your hands and a quick checkup on your overall health you ask for a hot bath.

“It’s ready, my lady,” The thrall says just in time for Ivar’s entrance, she gasps and starts to tremble.

“You can go now, don’t come back again, you may take the tub out tomorrow,” You whisper tiredly.

Ivar is covered in blood and even you get a chill run down your spine. It looks grotesque, never has he had so much blood on him from just one person, he looks demonic even.

“I’m—,” He starts but you lift your hand.

“I honestly don’t want to hear it,” You murmur, starting to get undressed.

He looks at you with attention, watching you moan when the hot water gets in contact with your skin.

“I’m sorry.” He finishes what he was saying earlier and you roll your eyes.

“I’m with child, I got pushed by the father of the child and then he got killed by you and I imagine it was in the most animalistic way you could think of,” You tell him coldly. “I’m tired, I didn’t need you snapping at me when I was the one being mistreated, you may go now if that’s going to happen again.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says, he looks emotionless, his voice too. But you know that those words coming out of Ivar’s mouth is already a blessing.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He says, crawling more closer.

“You look scary.”

“I’ll get clean after you tell me how are you,” He whispers and you sigh.

“What am I going to do now?” You whisper to him, getting close to him.

“Nothing, you don’t need to do anything,” He whispers. “Just let me take care of you. Both of you.”

“You already do that,” You smile.

He smiles and leans, giving you a soft kiss although you could tell it doesn’t mean anything more.

“Yes I do, until the gods call me to Valhalla.”

[kaivenom]

How the Vikings men would bath with you

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

It takes a lot to him to trust you enough to see him naked.

Due to his body, he is very self concious so previously to entering the bath, you need to be sure he will let you in.

It is sure to say this is one of his most vulnerable moments, always expecting you to run away or something.

You position yourself behind him and tun your fingers up and down his back.

Giving him massages and hugging him, trying to reasure him that you are not afraid.

Once he gets used to this time of intimacy, having baths together starts to be a more usual activity.

Ubbe Ragnarson

He got to you side and started rubbing your legs and chest with slow almost sensual motions.

Never breaking eye contact from you, even when is hand dissapeared underwater.

With a nod you invited him to join you and what started with his attempt to seduce you is now a relaxing tradition.

Your back against his chest, connecting fingers and talking about nothing and everything.

Feeling his heartbeat against you is beautiful and calming, he also feels safe while doing this with you.

Dark ambience, small candles iluminating the room.

Hvitserk Ragnarson

The first time he entered by accident and you give him the option to join, obviously he didn't refuse.

Then started to be more often, he judt likes to have you in front of him.

After his travels to Algeciras and the Mediterranean sea, he discovers the roman baths, aromatized soaps, etc.

He is like a child, sometimes splashing you while laughing.

But dont get It wrong, he always treats you like a princess.

Now, when you raid together, he always wanders around the town, trying to know if there is some roman baths or saunas.

Sigurd Ragnarson

I somehow think that he doesn't like to bath so the only way for him to get in water is with you.

He tries to stay as much as posible in the water while you wash his blonde hair but he just makes sarcastic comments, makes weird faces and that.

He tries to splash you like a revenge and you end up having a water bottle.

The only place he likes to be in water is on the lake, but ussually is to cold to be there so... big no.

Not even mentioning that in some particular ocasion he threw you there, obviously you pushed him after.

It's the most fun and risky one to bath with.

Bjorn Ironside

He obviously starts bathing a couple of minutes before you do, that's why you always tell him when you are going to do It.

He has this hope that bathing and spending this time with you will make you reward him.

Bathing in such a small place with such a man, you feel a little overwhelmed.

He doesn't tent to do anything but always wants you to rub and wash him, he finds it relaxing

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

Shit...

I mean, I knew where it was going, but, damn...

Still hit like a truck.

Good job, man.

Ghost - Modern!Ivar

A/N: This is for @tephi101‘s 800 follower writing challenge. I’m so sorry this was late and hopefully it turned out okay. I’ve been wrestling with this idea since I signed up for your challenge and I was gonna scrap it but I just couldn’t let go lol. So here it is!

Ghost - Modern!Ivar x reader

It was an odd thing to think but ghosts had played an unusual part in your relationship with Ivar. In your small apartment three stories up from the ground you laid in bed thinking about the young man that had taken up too much of your time for the last four years. If you could have done it over again, rewound time to the exact moment you meant and decided not to be outgoing you never would. Regardless of everything that had happened in the past four years you would never change any of the memories you had or trade them or something else.  

Keep reading

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

MASTERLIST

Selethryth, a young lady with strange eyes and prophetic dreams, is both feared and revered in King Ecbert's court. Though he sees her as a powerful tool for his ambitions, it is Ivar, the brutal and unpredictable son of Ragnar, who is drawn to her. As their fates collide, Selethryth finds herself entangled in a dangerous game where her gifts may lead her into the arms of darkness.

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 2

Selethryth felt utterly exhausted, as if her body had been forged from lead. Ever since the night she dreamt of the raven, sleep had become her enemy. Every time she closed her eyes, the nightmare returned—always the same. The vision of the bird, flying alone in the darkened sky, tired and abandoned. Then the serpent, coiling around the raven and swallowing it whole, its death slow and inevitable. And after, the earth trembling beneath her, decaying and foul, while a dark figure appeared in the shadows, familiar blue eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. The sea—the sea that devoured men and castles alike. And always, always, she was powerless, a silent witness the doom around her.

Each dream left her heart heavy, suffocated, as if a dark force had wrapped around her chest and was ready to crush her at any moment.

The King had grown restless after hearing about the raven, and since then, he summoned her every morning to ask what she had dreamt the night before. It was the only topic of conversation between them these days.

"Why do you keep pushing her to speak of this curse?" Her mother's voice broke the silence one night, trembling and low, as if she feared being overheard.

"The king has asked," her father replied quietly but tensely. "Who am I to deny him?"

"That man is a sinner. A dangerous, mad man," Lady Oswyth retorted, bitterness heavy in her voice, but also fear.

"Don't speak like that!" Lord Godric's voice was sharp, almost a whisper, but there was an unmistakable fear in it. "If the king hears—"

"If the king hears, it makes no difference," her mother whispered back. "We're already lost." She paused, her tone breaking. "But he doesn't see what I see. He doesn't understand the sign in her eyes... what she is."

"And the king doesn't want us to intervene. There will be no exorcism for her," her father said, trying to end the conversation, though his frustration was clear.

Oswyth sighed, her voice cracking. "You are condemning your daughter's soul for your own ambitions, Godric."

"Her soul has been lost since the day she was born!" Her father's words were harsh, like an old wound reopened. The anger was raw. "We knew it! She nearly killed you when you gave birth to her! And after her, you couldn't give me another child. We've always known, Oswyth!" His voice trembled with bitterness. "I thought we were cursed because of her. But the king... the king sees something else. And we've risen, like my father never could. I won't let anything ruin that."

Selethryth remained silent, hidden behind the ajar wooden door, shrouded in the darkness of her chamber. Her eyes lowered, and her heart ached as the cruel words pierced her. She had always known the truth of her birth—that she was the reason her mother had been unable to bear more children. The moment they had seen her eyes, they had known it was her fault. And now, hearing her father speak of it so openly, the weight of her existence pressed down on her, heavier than ever.

She slid down onto the cold floor, drawing her knees close to her chest, struggling to keep the sobs trapped within her. She could not allow herself to be heard, not even a sigh, as silent tears welled in her eyes. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve this. What had she done wrong? How had she offended the Lord, for Him to bring so much pain and dishonor to her family?

Selethryth had always tried to be a good Christian—going to church, learning everything that a noble lady was supposed to know—but none of it mattered. To them, she would always be a sinner. Always to blame. And there was nothing she could do to change their minds. To everyone, she would forever be a witch.

This pained her heart gravely.

"You're so quiet, child." Judith's voice broke through the silence, making Selethryth look up from her book. The lady was painting with careful hands, recreating a scene from the sacred scriptures. It was something Judith loved to do, though it was considered inappropriate for a lady—an indulgence that, by her position as the King's mistress, she was free to pursue. Women of her standing had the freedom to do things that others could not, like drawing or reading.

"Forgive me for not being good company, my lady," Selethryth apologized, her voice barely above a whisper. But Judith turned to her with softness in her eyes—eyes that no one else ever showed her. She was the only one who ever looked at her like that.

Selethryth still remembered when Judith had first feared her, when she had been labeled a witch—an accusation that had followed her like a shadow. But it didn't take long for Judith to grow fond of her, to see beyond the rumors and the fear. For Selethryth's mother, this was fitting. Judith, after all, was a woman with many flaws, living openly in her sins. To Oswyth, it made sense that she would not have ill thoughts about her daughter.

"Nonsense, Selethryth. You're always good company," Judith said gently, her gaze soft as she observed the young lady, who, after a long pause, found the strength to smile. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked again, her brush never faltering as she continued painting.

Selethryth hesitated. She wanted to confide in Judith; she felt that the woman was the only one who might truly understand her. Judith had been the one to push her to read and study, to learn things she was never supposed to. And whenever someone spoke ill of her, it was Judith who had defended her without hesitation. But Judith was too close to the King for Selethryth to be completely honest with her. She could never speak of what had been said in her family's chamber, nor could she risk the royal family thinking her ungrateful. So, with a quiet breath, she decided to change the subject.

"I was reading about the Vikings," Selethryth said, her gaze dropping to the book in her hands.

"Vikings?" Judith asked with a curious tilt of her head. "What made them so interesting to you?"

"Magnus says he's the son of Ragnar Lothbrok," Selethryth replied, her voice soft.

Magnus, the son of the late Queen Kwenthrith, had been fathered by Ragnar Lothbrok during the war for Mercia. The very fact of his parentage had been the only reason Ecbert had agreed to raise him as his own.

"You've met him, haven't you?" Selethryth asked, her curiosity piqued. She saw Judith's expression shift to one of quiet nostalgia, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"You know I have," Judith replied, her voice tinged with something unreadable, though her smile was warm.

Selethryth, worried she had overstepped, realized the question had likely seemed unnecessary, considering Alfred's father had been one of Ragnar's most trusted companions.

"Was he truly as impressive as the stories say?" Selethryth asked, her voice full of wonder. She had read so much about the Vikings—their fierceness, their legends—and yet it was hard to believe such men existed outside of myth.

Judith nodded slowly, her eyes distant for a moment. "All of it is true," she said, her voice low and reverent. "He was an impressive warrior... with an even more impressive mind."

Then something on the page caught Selethryth's attention. She leaned in closer, her fingers tracing the edge of an illustration—a man, with a raven on his chest. She frowned, the image feeling oddly familiar. She turned the page back, her fingers trembling slightly, and found the same drawing, the same raven.

"Why a raven?" she muttered under her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the image.

Judith, having noticed Selethryth's intense focus, hummed in curiosity and leaned in to see the drawing.

"You're looking at Ragnar," Judith said softly, almost as if speaking of an old friend. "The raven was his sigil."

Selethryth's breath caught in her throat as her gaze moved from Judith back to the drawing.

A raven...

She kept repeating to herself, It's just a drawing. There was no reason to think of it as anything more than what it was. She had dreamt of a bird dying. Nothing more. But she couldn't shake that strange feeling—like the image made sense. As if she were meant to look at it. But why would that be true?

She had never cared about Ragnar Lothbrok, why did she feel such a strong connection to that figure now?

She had never believed Ecbert's words. She had never believed that she had been blessed with prophetic dreams. They were just dreams, read by others, their meaning always coming later. Like with the first dream she had told him.

She had dreamt of a woman with black hair and a crown on her head, but suddenly the crown turned to ashes and the ground beneath her crawled away, as if it wanted to escape from her. But then, the same earth formed a bridge that led to King Ecbert, wearing an even bigger crown than the one he already wore. Both the people around him and those on the other side of the bridge bowed to him.

It held no meaning to her. There was no way she could have ever truly believed that the King would interpret this dream as a sign of his kingdom growing. But he did. And it happened again, and again. Every dream she shared seemed to follow a chance for Ecbert to expand his lands. And now, he ruled over the largest kingdom in England.

She had never wanted to believe that she had prophetic dreams. And she didn't want to believe it now. If she did, then the Devil really was her lover, and she didn't have a soul.

That thought terrified her. Was her destiny to be a dark creature? An empty one, causing pain and despair? Did she really have no soul? What would become of her when death came? Was she condemned to Hell?

But I have done nothing, she kept repeating to herself. She always did what her family expected of her, what the Lord had taught them to learn. She had done nothing to be hated like this.

And yet, that raven... that raven had scared her. The feeling it left behind terrified her even more.

"Why are you looking so pensive?" Eadgifu's voice made her look up from her needlework. Her sister was having her new dress fixed by the hands of Hilda. It was a gown of pale pink that matched perfectly with her sister's skin. On Eadgifu's face there was an excited smile as she observed herself in the mirror. "Are you worried about the feast of tomorrow night?"

Selethryth found herself smiling bitterly. She really wished that her mind could fix on those things, pretty dresses and feasts to meet suitors, but her mind kept coming back to the raven. The sadness that she felt in her dream, and the fear she had felt during the entire day.

"There's no reason to," Selethryth answered, meeting her sister's gaze through the glass, "You, however, must be excited."

Eadgifu's smile grew larger, "Mother said I'm ready to wed." She said with a dreamy expression. Marriage had always been her sister's greatest dream as they grew up.

"I'm sure you'll find an honorable man," Selethryth's words were enough to make Hilda look at her with unspoken fear. But Eadgifu didn't notice, as she giggled again.

"And handsome as well, I hope," she said before turning to Selethryth. "You could meet someone as well," Eadgifu insisted, but Selethryth looked down at her needlework again, with a little shake of her head.

"Only the Lord knows what plans He has for me," she said, folding the needle between her fingers. "For now, I must wait until He speaks through Father's mouth."

Eadgifu regarded her with a sad look, "Father knows that you'll have to wed, it is a woman's duty." Selethryth would have liked to ask her if it was the Witch of Wessex's duty as well. But she decided against it. Smiling at her sister to keep on with her needlework.

She was in the right age to marry, to be looking for a husband at least. But it was never the time. Lord Godric loved his high position at King Ecbert's court, but his presence was required because Selethryth was there. If she was to marry and leave for her husband's lands, what would become of Lord Godric? He would have to return to his own dark castle, and the king's attentions would be long forgotten. That, of course, if she would ever find a man daring enough to not be scared of superstitions. But Selethryth wasn't sure of it.

That night, her sleep had a form again, vivid as if she were awake.

Selethryth found herself standing at the edge of a vast and frozen lake, its surface smooth as glass, reflecting a stormy sky above. The wind howled through the barren trees at the lake's edge, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands, clawing at the air. The whole landscape felt dead, as if the world itself were holding its breath. The cold bit deep into her skin, and she shivered, but there was no warmth, no shelter to be found.

In the distance, two figures appeared, walking toward her across the frozen expanse. One was tall, shrouded in shadow, his form hidden beneath a dark cloak, but a raven flew beside him—its wings cutting through the air with a steady, rhythmic beat. The raven's presence felt both ominous and powerful, like a harbinger of change. The figure walked with a slow, deliberate pace, as if burdened by the weight of years, yet still possessing a quiet strength. He was the older figure, the one who had lived through much, but was now nearing the end of his journey.

The second figure was on the ground, but he radiated intensity. He slithered on the floor fast and urgent, almost as though he were driven by an unseen force. He seemed to move with a fury that contrasted sharply with the calmness of the first figure. His eyes, burning like blue fire, glinted with a sharpness that cut through the dim light. There was something in his gaze that was both haunting and intense, as though he had been touched by something beyond this world. His path was not one of peace, but of revenge.

As the figures drew closer, the sky above began to darken. The raven circling the older figure let out a sharp cry, and in an instant, a bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens, splitting the sky in two. The older figure stumbled, his cloak billowing around him, and fell to the ground. A cloud of shadow seemed to rise from the earth, swirling around him, until he was lost within it. The raven disappeared into the night, and the storm that had raged above seemed to swallow him whole.

But then, the second figure—the one with the burning blue eyes—stood tall, his face drawn in a fierce expression of grief and anger. He lifted his arms to the sky, and a great thunderclap followed, shaking the earth beneath her feet. He called out, his voice full of pain and rage, but also a powerful resolve. The sky above him seemed to tremble, as though the very heavens themselves were answering his cry. The storm intensified, lightning flashing with increasing frequency, each strike illuminating his face, now set in a mask of vengeance.

The power of the storm—the grief in his eyes—struck something deep within her, even if she could not quite understand the reason. She wanted to reach out, but the storm raged too fiercely, and the dream began to fade, pulling her back into the dark void. Her eyes shot open, and she realized she had been crying.

******

Taglist: @g-cf2020 @ugh-whytho

If you'd like to be add to the Taglist, please don't hesitate to let me know.

If you liked it, please leave a heart ♥️ a comment and reblog!

[blakeswritingimagines]

Who fell first and who fell harder

Ragnar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Athelstan: He fell first and harder.

Floki: You fell first and harder.

Lagertha: You fell first but she fell harder.

Aslaug: She fell first and harder.

Bjorn: You fell first but he fell harder.

Ubbe: He fell first but you fell harder.

Hvitserk: He fell first and harder.

Sigurd: He fell first but you fell harder.

Ivar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Halfdan: You fell first and harder.

Harald: He fell first and harder.

[avalilsbfss]

‘Little princess’ ivar the boneless short

Domestic Ivar the boneless x wife!reader

Warnings: none.

Description: ivars “little princess’ wants to train so you help her out

you and ivar had 3 children together now. Uhtred age 10 and the twins Finan and Iselut age 7, and another one on to be born very soon. (or so the healers say.)

You were beginning to think that ivar was going to get you with child as many times as possible, just to prove he could.

Ivar took up training the boys, they were natural fighters already, they were skilled in there own ways just like him, but they just needed some tutoring to rein in there stubbornness and there egos that caused them to think they were better than each other.

every time they would train, iseult would sit close by, aimlessly picking at the threads and the seams of her dress or trying to build the confidence to ask to join. She didn’t know why she was frightened. She was her father ‘little princess’ who could do wrong, any harm done to her ivar would chuck the culprits into the water and hold their heads down until the bubbles stoped and then offer there corpse to the gods.

But in truth she was scared her brothers were going to embarrass her or she was going to embarrass herself infront of them.

you were a shield maiden for most of your life before you married ivar and you were a darn good fighter as well, you only stoped fighting when you got pregnant and ivar wanted to keep you safe. And iseult looked up to you.

you watched the boys train occasionally when you were bored of being confined to your chambers and you tried not to snicker as the boys fell sometimes, then your eye caught iseult, she was always sitting on on top of a barrel in the yard anxiously picking at the seams of her dress as she kept looking over to ivar and her brothers.

it broke your heart at her being nervous to ask to join, she was a good girl, shy, sweet but she had a temper like ivar and the rest of her family. she was just nervous and you wished ivar would notice that.

One day you had enough and walked over to her. “You know. If you want to join just ask them” you told her, making her jump.

“I-I can’t ask them, uhtred said I’m to small and won’t even be able to hold anything.” she pouted softly and glanced over to the pile of weapons in the yard.

“Uhtred also thinks he will grow up to marry a Valkyrie” you said matter of factly and iseult giggled. “Besides who said anything about a heavy weapon?” You asked her and she looked at you confused

You looked around and found a small bow and arrow on the table, you picked it up and gestured her to jump down.

She hopped down and you handed her the bow and slotted in the arrow for her. “Ok keep your hand here…and draw back to your cheek” you instructed and she did as you said.

You helped her position and aimed it at the barrel that was in the direction off ivar and the boys. “Ok…when You’re ready ok” you told her and she nodded nervously before letting go.

The arrow file past the ivar and the boys. Almost catching finan on the cheek as it hit the barrel.

And all the 3 boys turned to look at her and ivar let out a suprised laugh

Masterlist

[1-800-choke-me]

I wanna fuck virgin ivar so bad🤭 ivar whose never touched a women before, ivar who doesn't know there's more ways then just pleasuring a women with ur cock, ivar who whimpers, ivar who stares at you with hearts in his eyes as you bounce on his cock, ivar who will never leave you alone after it happens and begs his mom to let him marry you bc ur now his, I need him so bad 😩

[professonalarttheclownfan]

Ivar The Boneless

Different

summary - You had been courting Hvitserk, when you’d caught him doing the unthinkable. That’s when Ivar stepped in.

You and Hvitserk had been together for a while, you were in a partner ship but there wasn’t an official label. You were his, and he was yours as far as you were concerned. People knew that, you weren’t quick to be married and you didn’t mind that.

You had definitely fallen for the man you’d known since you were a child having been friends with the young Prince since you were toddlers. He was kinder and more gentle then his peers, so how could you not? You knew of his reputation for bedding numerous amounts of women. He was happy if his belly was full and if there was a lady keeping his bed warm, for years that’s how it went. It hurt you to keep the way you felt under wraps. Until one day you had confessed to him, and lucky for you he had felt the same way.

Recently things hadn’t been going so well, you’d noticed his wondering eye but never thought much of it, well tried not to anyways. He loved you, you loved him. Small arguments started to break out every so often but it wasn’t anything that wasn’t sorted with a kiss. You had thought you were secure and happy. Trying to ignore the little cracks that were beginning to form between you and him.

You’d found yourself becoming friendly with his brother Ivar, finding that when you’d search for Hvitserk, he was out doing something. Ivar would usually be the one to tell you he was out, at first you were weary of the man. He was never particularly kind to you as a child, you’d originally tried to befriend the boy as he was your age, but it was Hvitserk who ultimately won your friendship and then love. But in Hvitserks recent absences you found yourself chatting to Ivar, he was kinder when he was by himself.

——————

“He’s not here y/n, he went out early again” you heard Ivar say as you pulled the door closed behind you, glad to be out the cold but annoyed at the fact it was now the 6th time Hvitserk hadn’t bothered to let you know he was out. You tried to not think anything of it, although an uneasy feeling nibbled away at your stomach. Not wanting to push the man, you always assumed he was with his other brothers. You still respected Hvitserk and his brothers, so if he told you he was out with his brothers then he was out with his brothers, you never pushed.

“Well, I’m bored so can I just stay with you for abit? It’s cold and I don’t want to walk through that snow again just yet.” Truthfully you wanted the company, you’d felt so lonely recently and Ivars company was not so bad. You shrugged your furs from your shoulders, placing them over a spare seat to dry from the snow.

“I’d like that, I’ve been alone all day. Your company seems to be the only one that doesn’t annoy me” his answer caused you to shoot a small smile at him. Taking a seat next to him on the floor, you ran your hand through the furs placed for him and now you to sit on, after shifting abit to get comfortable you finally let out a sigh that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in.

“I’m unsure as to why your allowing him to get away with this” Ivar questioned, allowing his eyes to wander over your form. He’d only ever been mean to try and fight the feelings he has for you, the day you tried to become his friend he remembers like it was yesterday, and he curses himself for ever being so awful to you. You could of been the one thing in his life he could hold onto. But he was afraid, afraid incase you’d reject him or make fun of him like so many others seemed to do. But you never did, and you never would.

Hvitserk was usually his favourite out of his brothers, but the way his older sibling had been making you feel recently bothered him. It wasn’t fair on someone who was so pure and genuine. Although he wanted the unwavering love you had for Hvitserk to be for him. He also, for once in his life, was putting your feelings before his own. He wanted to hold you, make that drained unsure look on your face disappear. He could tell that everything that was going on at the moment was bothering you more then you let on, but you were to polite to do anything about it, to worried to make someone upset. But you also didn’t want that nagging feeling to be true, to address it would mean you were either extremely wrong and possibly hurt Hvitserk or it was true and your heart would surely shatter.

“Ivar, I’m worried. I’m scared. Recently he’s had wondering eyes, for years he hadn’t even looked in the direction of another woman unless it was to speak to them. We’d always tell each other where we are going but mostly we wouldn’t have to because we’d already be together. We haven’t shared a bed in a while, and when he comes back from where ever he’s been going he’s been off with me, like he’s pretending. What am I doing wrong Ivar? I’ve known him since I was a child.” You felt awful for revealing everything to Ivar knowing the young man already had enough going on. Tears streamed your face, it was the first time you’d allowed yourself to cry. It was a foolish thing to do especially in front of a man such as Ivar. You didn’t want to seem weak.

Instead of speaking Ivar placed a gentle arm over your shoulder, cradling you as you cried. His heart-ached for you. But his anger, oh how his anger was boiling over toward his brother.

You both heard the door open, the familiar voices of Ubbe and Bjørn filled the room but Hvitserks was absent. This only caused more worry for you. They stepped into the room you and Ivar were sat in, noticing your obvious distress.

“Ubbe, Bjørn. Was Hvitserk with you today. Or any day recently for that matter?” Your heart speed up, if there answer was anything other then yes, you were ready to start your own war.

“Sorry y/n, me and Bjørn have been fishing recently. But Hvitserk hasn’t been joining us.” Ubbe had a sympathetic tone to his voice, but no amount of sympathy would stop the blood that was now pumping through your veins as you stood. Any upset you had felt was now turned to adrenaline and anger. It was the only thing that would give you the courage to walk over to Hvitserks home and confront him. You hadn’t intended to leave so abruptly hoping the brothers would understand your predicament.

Ivar watched the door slam behind you, his instant reaction was to pull himself up and grab his crutch and strapping his leg braces up as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t allow you to face this on your own if things went south. Despite the cold he set out after you.

You reached Hvitserks door, finally realising where you were. You hesitated, noticing the glow of candles. He was in. Your heart dropped, unsure of what you were going to walk in on. The gnawing feeling in your stomach now a full raging beast. That’s when you heard the soft dragging of feet behind you, you knew exactly who it was. Ivar.

“I’m here for you. y/n. You don’t have to face this alone.” You’d never been more glad to see his face, he brought a tiny bit of comfort. Which you hadn’t of expected. You nodded at him. Thankful for his presence.

With a shaky hesitant hand you pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. Your manners were put on hold for now. It was dark the flickering candles being the only source of light. But he was home, and your fears became reality. You saw her and him, on the bed you used to sleep in with him, where you and Hvitserk spend many a night making love or cuddling. And there he was now but with another woman. They hadn’t noticed you at first but you saw her naked back and heard his grunts.

Your gentle side had been tossed out the room as you pushed the rest of the front door so hard it caused it to crash into the wall beside it, whilst also nearly taking the large piece of wood off of its hinges. This caused the woman to jump from riding your partner, Hvitserk shooting up from his previous position to see the you. Your head whirled with 100 million things to scream at him, yet you didn’t say anything, you stood in the door way, chest heaving. Making sure to make eye contact with Hvitserk so he could see the fury that bubbled behind them.

With that you stormed off. You needed to be alone.

Ivar allowed you to go, understanding that you were angry and needed time alone. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his brother what for. Ivar was enraged. And Hvitserk would soon know all about it.

“YOU, OUT!” Ivar snarled at the naked woman, as she hurriedly gathered her clothes. “if y/ns ever in the same vicinity as you. You better not show your face. Infact do yourself a favor and never come back” he spat.

Turning his attention to his brother, his eyes narrowed at him. Hvitserk didn’t know where to look, he wanted to find you. But no amount of sorry would ever heal the heart he’d just broken. Instead he had to deal with Ivar.

“You disgust me brother. I’ve never known you to do such vile things” Ivar dragged himself further into the house.

“You are no man, you have a woman’s love and this is how you treat it. especially the love of a woman such as y/n” his voice thick with venom towards his brother. “I hope the gods cruse you and that sleaze” Ivar took his arm and swiped everything off of the table allowing it to break, crash and spill. “You are lucky she will not allow me to hurt you, her kindness still prevails even when she should nail your balls to your eyes!”

three months later———

The heartbreak was soul shattering, it took you nearly a month and half to even consider going out side. Yet Ivar visited you most days, even if you wanted your own space Ivar would sit quietly. Allowing you to know his presence was there if needed. Which you were glad for, he held you when you cried, listened when you needed to talk, and chatted when you needed a distraction. You two became close, becoming the best friends you were meant to be.

Hvitserk had tried multiple times to come see you but Ivar wouldn’t allow it. You needed to heal and he would help you do that. Hvitserk left many a gift at your door, it confused Ivar as to why it was now he was spoiling you, trying to give you the attention that you needed for the last part of your and his relationship now. He was two late. You wouldn’t ever go back to a cheat, Ivar helped you get to that frame of mind, as before you would of crumbled craving to feel the man you loved.

Ivar helped remind you that you were beautiful, although to Ivar you were more then beautiful, you were truly breathtaking. Learning some self love was important right now.

You and Ivar had decided to take a walk, nothing major. There was a feast going on in the great hall tonight so Ivar assured you that there wouldn’t be anyone around. So you wrapped yourselves up in furs and your cloaks and headed out.

It was quiet at first, you weren’t going far due to Ivar using his crutches but it was nice to be outside regardless. It was night and the stars had come out in full force, like the gods wanted to paint the sky especially for you and Ivar.

“Oh how wonderful, Ivar look at the sky! The gods has truly blessed us tonight!” You giggled, clasping your hands together softly. It was a joyous sound and one Ivar had missed dearly. You both took a seat on one of the tables that stood in the middle of Kattegat, and Ivar was finally able to look at the sky. He never cared much for such things but today was different if you wanted him to look at the stars then that is what he’d do, and you were correct, the sky was littered with stars and it was truly breathtaking.

“I need closure” you blurted out randomly, Ivar brought down his head to look at you.

“I need closure so I can move on. I want to know why. It’s been months since I’ve seen his face. And I thank you for helping me take the time to heal. But I want to start moving on. I want to be able to love someone else who’ll love me just as much.” Your looked at Ivar to gage a reaction, he smiled softly at you. His gaze relaxing when he met your eyes.

You and Ivar had decided that he would go to the great hall and get his brother. Rather then you having to walk into a place that would cause you a great distress, at least if you were outside and couldn’t handle it you could just walk away. You sat whislt Ivar went to find Hvitserk.

After about 15 minutes you saw the two men walking toward you, Hvitserk caught your eyes first. You’d expect to want to run away but you didn’t, you were quite happy just sitting there looking at the stars in the quiet. Although a little nervous, seeing Ivar behind him calmed your nerves tenfold.

Hvitserk remained stood whilst Ivar pulled himself up to be sat beside you, taking his fur off and wrapping around your shoulders although you already have your own on, you appreciated the kind gesture. Jealousy was written allover Hvitserks face, as he scowled at his brother.

“Well say something brother” Ivar bit, he rolled his eyes at the other man who remained silent, yet to even mutter a word.

“Ivar, it’s okay. I’ll speak.” You gently placed your hand on Ivars wrist giving it a squeeze. Hvisterk wanted nothing more then for his little brother to go away, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t even been able to see you for three months. His brother forbid it. He’d been nothing but spiteful towards him, which he deserved.

Hvitserk looked at you, hopeful to still see some form of loving gaze toward him but there was none. And his heart sunk.

“Hvitserk, it’s been three long months since you betrayed me and betrayed our love. You shattered my heart into a million pieces. I do not understand if you were so unhappy with being my partner then why not just end things. I now have new worries & insecurities due to your actions, I doubt that I will ever be good enough for anyone anymore. If it hadn’t of been for your brother I don’t know where I’d be now. Probably still fawning after you making a fool out of myself. But, I shall not. You will forever hold a piece of my heart, that I will say. I loved you Hvitserk and a part of me always will. I’m unsure as to if you ever loved me as I could not possibly do the things that you have done to me. But all I ask is why?” Your voice remained a level tone. No hate was spat at the man. You couldn’t bring yourself to be so unkind.

Ivar was beyond proud of you, although he was full of anger toward his brother you remained calm, having seen how you screamed into your furs, how you threw things and how you cried behind the closed door of your hut when it first happened, you had come so far. He could only wish to ever deal with things the way you had just done.

Hvitserk sucked in a breath, almost to stop his voice from wobbling. He had lost you, through his own foolish, greedy actions.

“Y/n my lov-“ he started but you cut him off, “you’ve no right to call me that anymore.” His eyes watered, but he held his composure the best he could infront of you and his brother.

“Y/n, I love you. My gods i love you. But I had been foolish. I had been tempted by a woman and slipped into my old ways, she persisted and I gave in. I have no excuse for doing what I did, and I shan’t makeup one. You deserve better then that. These past three months have been torment. I just wanted to hold you feel your warm flesh against mine again. I had known you were too good for me. I fear you hate me now. I can’t live without you at least speaking to me.” He spoke carefully, his voice timid as if he was getting told off. Ivar scoffed and you placed your hand once again on his arm to stop him.

“I don’t hate you, I don’t hate anyone. As I had said a piece of me will always hold onto you, and it will pain me. But I shall learn to live with it. I will speak to you if the situation permits it but I shan’t make an effort. I cannot hide away anymore. I am friends with Ivar and that won’t stop. Whether you like it or not. I hope you live a happy life. But please promise me, don’t hurt another woman like this. Make sure you love her and you love her hard. Never make her feel the way you have made me feel. Goodbye Hvitserk.” With that you hopped off of the table, and bowed your head. He was to you now a prince of Kattegat and you would respect him as such. But he wasn’t your Hvisterk anymore and you had started to finally come to terms with it.

Ivar followed you back to your hut, you were still so unbelievably grateful for him. So once you got back although late, you set about making the man a warm pie as to thank him for tonight. Ivar had perched himself on your bed as your hut was small and you could see the kitchen from where he was easily enough. He watched you carefully as you made the food and chatted away to him, his heart fluttered at you. He had fallen so unbelievably in love with you, but knew to keep it to him self whislt you went through what your going through, he knew deep down that you were meant to be his. He’d never felt this way about anyone. Your the only person that he would protect wholeheartedly, even against his own brother.

The small space was filled with the warm sent of your baked good, it was warm and cozy due to the fire burning away in the centre. Ivar could get used to this. He’d never known the true feeling of home, always feeling out of sorts around his brothers. But here, he was comfortable. He was warm and he could look at you all he wanted. He’d never understand why Hvitserk did what he did, and in someways he was glad.

He could finally get you to himself.

You grabbed two spoons once the pie had cooled off abit, bringing it to where Ivar sat wrapped in your bed furs. Intending it to be a nice late night treat and a thanks to Ivar.

“It smells delicious” Ivar smiled at you taking the warm pie into his hands so you could slip in next to him. “Why don’t we just use the same spoon, saves on dishes” he laughed, “Ivar I don’t mind washing it it’s just a spoon-“

“No if we share we will do it properly” he said as he scooped up some sweet filling and pastry, holding it up for you to take the first bite. A feeling was brewing as you looked at Ivar, but it was a different feeling, one you hadn’t experienced before. A warm feeling, no rampid butterfly’s. A safe, warm, glowing feeling toward Ivar. You’d soon find out. That it was love starting to form for the man, true love.