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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago
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"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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1-800-choke-me · 11 months ago
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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
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kaivenom · 8 months ago
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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
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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago
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❝army of ivarrsons❞
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✭ 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
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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.
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midnightstar16 · 11 months ago
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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)
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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.
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woahhhgwendolyn · 1 year ago
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Being Married To Ivar Would Include...
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-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.
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avalilsbfss · 1 month ago
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‘Little princess’ ivar the boneless short
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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
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myocsfanfictions · 2 months ago
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Under the Devil’s Eye
Vikings FanFiction
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.
If you like it, please reblog!
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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ubbesbabymama · 2 years ago
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.”
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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago
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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.
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mads-weasley · 26 days ago
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I'll Find You
Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Shieldmaiden!Reader
Masterlist
A/N: enjoy!
Summary: Hvitserk is caught between both sides in the Battle for Kattegat. Torn between the woman he loves and his brother, he must make a choice.
Word Count: 3.2k
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The Battle for Kattegat, the Battle of the Ragnarssons, raged across the misty field. The metallic smell of blood and harsh sounds of battle hung in the air: the clashing of swords and axes, battle cries, and screams of the wounded.
Who knew it would come to this?
Brother turning against brother, neighbor against neighbor. (Y/n) was caught in the middle, her heart torn between both sides. At one time, she'd promised to never leave his side, but when he jumped ship, he chose to leave her...to leave the people who loved him.
She remembered how his lip twitched as he stared back toward the shore. Toward Ivar. She'd reached for his arm, already anticipating his decision, but she was too late. Her fingers barely brushed his sleeve as he moved out of her reach. That was the day everything changed.
Even now, as she fought through the crowd of warriors, she unconsciously scanned the battlefield for his figure. A cry came from her right, and she turned to see another shieldmaiden with her axe on the way down. (Y/n) managed to lift her shield just in time, and the axe hit it with a loud crack, the impact sending painful shockwaves through her arm. With a grunt, she blocked another swipe and kicked the woman in the stomach before bringing her axe down into the shieldmaiden's neck with a bloody squelch.
(Y/n) readjusted her grip on the shield, wincing. It only took a moment for her to gather herself and sprint farther into the fray. She lost herself in the battle, and each slice of her axe sent a warm spray of blood across her face, the stray strands from her braid sticking to the substance.
Amid the battle, she saw him. He was a little ways ahead of her in front of the small river that separated Ivar and the rest of their forces from the fight. He fought like he always had, without restraint. (Y/n) had always called him her berserker because he truly was, but he never would admit it liked the nickname. There seemed to be two different men inside Hvitserk: the man on the battlefield and the man he was off. The latter, a highly observant and caring man she'd come to love.
She remembered the quiet moments they'd shared in England while fighting with the Great Heathen Army to avenge his father.
"Is England what you'd thought it would be?"
His lips tilted into a small lopsided smile, and he glanced over from where he sat beside her. "Not really. You?"
"I didn't know what to think," (y/n) sighed, looking back at the small river before them. "But it is beautiful."
The steady flow of the water filled the silence, and (y/n) felt peace for the first time in months. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, basking in the gentle sunlight that cascaded from the heavens. In all their time in England, the sun was not out often.
Feeling eyes on her, she glanced over at Hvitserk. Their gazes met for a moment before he quickly turned away, his cheeks reddening.
"I am glad you came with us, (y/n)," he admitted softly, his upper lip twitching out of habit.
(Y/n) slid closer and leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't imagine staying in Kattegat while you were here fighting. If something happened to you, I-"
She trailed off as her throat tightened. The mere thought of his death...it was more than she could handle. Tearing his gaze away from the river, he gently cupped her cheek and turned her face toward him.
"The gods are not done with me yet, my love."
Making her way to him, (y/n) watched Hvitserk fight with the ferocity she'd seen since he first picked up a sword. The berserker in him had taken over. He effortlessly blocked the slashes of swords and axes of his enemies like it was all one big dance, and he knew the choreography.
(Y/n)'s focus was shattered when something collided with her side, sending her sprawling to the ground. Coughing, she pushed herself to her feet and turned her attention to the warrior who shed his shield in favor of dually wielding two axes. He swung one of the axes toward her head, and (y/n) barely had time to duck, feeling the blade whiz past her ear. She rolled to her feet and sidestepped the other axe aimed for her ribs.
With a grunt, she twisted her body and lifted her shield just in time to block the incoming blow. Her axe followed, and the man howled as it caught him in the arm, blood splattering across his face.
He staggered back with a snarl, but (y/n) didn’t let up. She closed the distance between them in two quick strides, knocking his remaining axe from his hand with a powerful swing, then brought her blade down on his shoulder. The man grunted in pain and dropped to his knees, unable to fight back any longer.
As he fell, (Y/n) turned, scanning the battlefield once more. Her heart skipped.
Hvitserk.
Her breath hitched as she watched him take a blow from an axe handle, sending him reeling backward and falling hard to the ground. Without hesitation, she surged forward. The world seemed to slow as she fought her way through the sea of warriors. Every instinct screamed at her to get to him, and her mind finished the sentence she hadn't dared to in England.
"If something happened to you, I...I would gladly follow you to Valhalla."
When she reached him, her legs nearly gave way. There he was, sprawling out in the dirt, his eyes wide as he gasped for air.
"Hvitserk!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she dropped to her knees beside him. She quickly turned him over, her hands shaking as she tried to pull him into a sitting position.
He continued to wheeze as he struggled to catch his breath. Hvitserk's gaze was unfocused, blinking as if he couldn’t make sense of the blurry figure in front of him.
"Breathe, Serk! Breathe!" She yelled, rubbing his cheeks gently. "Breathe!"
Little did she know he couldn't hear her. His mind replayed the events of the past year: England, jumping ship, his last conversation with Ivar.
"What do you fear most, dear brother?" Ivar asked. "The loss of thought or memory?
"My thoughts and memories seem to be the same. Every time I think, I always remember the day I jumped out of Ubbe's ship."
When I left her...it went unsaid.
Ivar shrugged, making a pushing motion with his hands. "But you didn't jump. The gods pushed you."
"Don't take it away from me," Hvitserk snarked. "I wasn't pushed. I decided to do it."
"Ah. And I think you still regret it."
Hvitserk paused, his mind wandering. "My only regret is that I don't have any children...and"
"(Y/n)?" Ivar chuckled and tilted his head, his lips quirking into a smirk. "You regret leaving her."
He did. More than anything. But he had to live with the consequences of his actions. "Yes," he said quietly, his gaze falling to the dirt.
Ivar's smirk turned sinister. "She will be there today. Are you willing to do what it takes?"
Hvitserk glanced up at him, his lip twitching as he tried to contain his anger. "What?"
"You heard me," he shrugged. "She chose her side, and you chose yours, poor Hvitserk. Will she hesitate to kill you?"
He didn't know, but Hvitserk did know that he could never raise a hand against her. If she felt differently, he would gladly let her strike him down.
The memory dissipated suddenly, and he became aware of himself once again. Something was holding his face, but the blur of his vision made it impossible to see exactly who.
Then he heard her voice. It was muffled, but unmistakably hers.
After a moment, he finally got control of his breathing and pulled sweet oxygen into his burning lungs. He blinked as his vision and hearing returned to normal. Her eyes were the first thing he saw.
(Y/n) leaned over him, her brows creased in concern as her voice became clear. "You have to get up! You're okay! You're okay!"
She glanced behind her and quickly disappeared from his view. He heard the familiar sound of clashing swords and iron meeting flesh.
'What is happening?' he thought. Then it hit him. The battle.
Hvitserk rolled over and pushed himself up, still gasping, and grabbed his sword and shield. Staggering to his feet, he found (y/n) battling one of her own warriors, who looked confused as to why she was defending the traitorous Ragnarsson. She kicked him in the chest and sent him flying to the ground with a thud. He wouldn't be a bother for a little while. Finally turning, (y/n)'s eyes met Hvitserk's, and relief flooded her body.
He was okay.
She barely had time to catch her breath before a new enemy charged toward her, forcing her to raise her shield. She blocked the blow, gritting her teeth as the impact jarred her shoulder. Hvitserk, now steady on his feet, roared and stepped forward, deflecting the warrior’s second strike with his axe.
Their eyes met again, just for a moment. The battle roared on around them, but between the chaos, it felt like the world had paused. Blood smeared both their faces, and their chests heaved with exertion, yet they stood there, staring at each other.
She still loved him. He could see it in her eyes as they looked upon him with a familiar softness.
Before either of them could say a word, another figure rushed toward (y/n), axe raised high. Hvitserk’s instincts kicked in, and without thinking, he lunged forward and knocked the assailant aside with his shield, sending the man crashing into the mud. He didn’t pause to finish the enemy off, and his attention snapped back to (y/n).
As the battle raged on, Hvitserk fought with every ounce of his strength, cutting down those who came too close to them. He knew she didn’t need saving and was capable of handling herself, but he couldn’t stop the fear that gripped him every time she was too close to death’s reach...too close to Ivar's reach.
He shoved a warrior aside with his shield just as another came for (y/n). She didn’t see him coming, but Hvitserk did, and he swung his axe in a wide arc, catching the man’s shoulder and sending him crashing to the ground.
(Y/n) glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into something like a half-smile of thanks, but it didn’t last. She turned her attention back to the fight, but the brief moment made Hvitserk’s chest tighten. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed her to understand.
He was sorry, he still loved her, he still wanted a future with her...
Then, the horn sounded.
A sharp, unmistakable note. The retreat. Bjorn's forces were losing.
Ivar was winning.
But that wasn’t what shook Hvitserk to his core. It was the realization of what that meant for (y/n). If she didn’t leave now, Ivar would hunt her down the very moment the battle was over, just like he would do to Lagertha, Ubbe, Bjorn, and all the other leaders.
She wouldn’t survive.
His heart raced in his chest as he turned to her. She was scanning the battlefield, looking for her next warrior to fight, unaware of the danger closing in around her. He reached for her and grabbed her arm, his grip tightening as the horn's echo lingered in the air.
“You need to go,” he said, his voice raw.
(Y/n) shook her head in defiance. “I’m not leaving you, Hvitserk,” she replied, pulling her arm free of his grasp.
His lips pressed into a tight line, and he shook his head. “You have to. Ivar won’t let you live. He’ll come for you, for all of you.”
Hvitserk’s chest tightened. Blood smeared across her face, but the fire in her eyes was unmistakable. He knew her. He knew how stubborn and fierce she was. But he also knew what Ivar would do.
"Ivar will hunt you down. He'll kill you without hesitation. He won't care that you're..." his voice faltered. "He won't care what you mean to me."
Her eyes softened at the admission, and for a moment, the noise of the battlefield around them faded away. She reached for his cheek, brushing away the dirt and blood. “And you’ll stay with him?”
Hvitserk closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch. He wanted so badly to walk away with her, to take her far from this madness. But the pull of his brother, of the bond they shared...even with all the brokenness...he couldn't let it go.
“I don’t have a choice,” he admitted. “He’s my brother. If I don’t stand with him, I’ll lose more than I already have.”
(Y/n) swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of tears. “You’ll lose me, too,” she said gently.
His eyes opened, meeting hers with a conflicted gaze. “I lost you the day I jumped ship,” he murmured. “And it’s haunted me every moment since. But I have to see this through...I can’t leave him.”
A small, sad smile tugged at her lips as her hand fell from his face. She could see the pain etched into his features. “I know,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "You're being torn apart. I can see it in your eyes."
Her words broke something in him. He dropped his forehead to hers, his breath shuddering. “My love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
(Y/n) closed her eyes, savoring the closeness she'd longed for for months. She cupped his face again with her free hand, her thumb brushing against the roughness of his cheek. “I know,” she said softly. “I know you are.”
The horn sounded again, louder this time. A reminder that their moment was slipping away.
“Stay alive, my love,” he whispered, his lips brushing her skin lightly as the words left his mouth. “Stay alive. Please.”
(Y/n) couldn't speak as emotion washed over her.
“Now go,” he repeated, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Please.”
Her lips trembled, but she nodded. “Promise me that you’ll find your way back to me someday.”
Hvitserk's lip twitched...a ghost of the smile she remembered. “I’ll find you.”
With one last lingering look, (y/n) stepped back, her hand sliding from his face. “I’ll see you again,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.
Hvitserk nodded, his eyes never leaving her. “Go,” he urged.
And then, with one last look, she turned and ran. Hvitserk watched until she disappeared into the chaos, and his heart broke a little more with every step she took away from him. Only then did he turn his focus back on the battle, gripping his axe tightly. With a loud roar, he charged the nearest enemy.
The berserker was back.
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6 Months Later
The battle was over. Ivar had been defeated at last.
Hvitserk stood beside Bjorn and King Herald in the square as King Olaf stood before them, a blue flag in his hand.
"Here's to the new year of all our lives, Bjorn Ironside," he announced, handing the flag to the eldest Ragnarsson.
Hvitserk couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. It was finally over. After all the time he spent with Ivar, he could finally have peace, he finally got his home back. The people of Kattegat would no longer have a cruel dictator ruling over them.
A commotion rippled through the onlookers as figures emerged from the edges of the square, and Hvitserk’s heart skipped when he saw them...Ubbe, Torvi, and…her.
(Y/n).
For a moment, Hvitserk froze. His heart thudded against his chest, and he felt an overwhelming rush of relief. There she was...alive. After everything. His breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to do at first. So much had happened, and in the chaos of battle and their long separation, he hadn’t allowed himself to fully imagine this moment. He watched as she took a few tentative steps forward.
Then, as if something within him finally snapped, Hvitserk took a breath, his eyes locked onto hers, and he quickly walked toward her. When they were mere feet apart, Hvitserk’s resolve faltered. He didn’t wait any longer. His arms went around her instinctively, and he lifted her off her feet.
He felt the warmth of her against him, the familiar weight of her body, and everything else fell away. For that brief moment, there was nothing but her...alive, in his arms. His breath came in a rush, his chest tight with emotion as he held her there, not caring about the stares of those around him, not caring about anything but the overwhelming sense of relief that surged through him.
"I found you," Hvitserk whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking slightly as the words escaped him. It was the promise he'd made when they'd parted on the battlefield months before.
(Y/n)’s arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her touch was the thing he didn’t even realize he needed. After everything he had been through, the battles, the loss, the guilt, her touch was the only thing that made everything feel still...like he could breathe again.
Slowly, he lowered her back to the ground, his hands lingering on her arms, almost afraid to let go. But she wasn’t waiting for him to speak. Her warm hands came up to his face, her fingers brushing over his bloody jaw, and she smiled softly, the tears in her eyes making his heart beat impossibly faster.
"I think I'm the one that found you," she smirked, tearily gazing up at him.
A breathy laugh left his lips as he opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. What could he say? Everything felt too small to capture what he was feeling in this moment.
"I—" he started, his voice low and rough. But before he could finish, he closed the space between them. His lips brushed hers softly at first, gentle and lingering. The kiss was tentative as if they were both savoring the moment, tasting the reunion. Hvitserk’s fingers lightly cupped her face, gently tracing the curve of her jaw.
When they pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. "I love you," he murmured. "I'm never leaving you again."
(Y/n) smiled through the tears, her fingers brushing the blood on his face as she leaned in again, this time with more confidence.
"Good," she whispered against his lips.
She then fully pressed her lips to his, and this time, Hvitserk didn’t hesitate. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. There was a heat to it now, the emotions spilling out in the press of their lips.
When they broke apart again, Hvitserk’s breath was a little uneven. His eyes locked on hers as he gently touched her cheek. "Marry me."
She nodded immediately, tugging him down towards her with a wide smile. "Yes."
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message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!! <3
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1-800-choke-me · 11 months ago
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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 😩
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kaivenom · 8 months ago
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How are the viking's men when you raid together...
Warnings: small hints of suggested themes
Masterlist
Ivar the Boneless
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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Ivar The Boneless
Different
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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.
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witchezandwonderz · 12 days ago
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Whispers of the Seer
Pairing: Ivar x Reader
Word Count: 1.8 k
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Ivar’s fist thundered onto the wooden table before him, in turn almost breaking it clean in half. The sudden noise caused your breath to catch and your heart to flutter slightly, although you steadied yourself in a desperate attempt to show as little emotion as possible.
He looked at you, curiosity clouding him. He wanted a reaction from you. In fact, he could almost say that he needed one, for you had shown not an ounce of feeling since he had met you a mere days before. Ivar was used to evoking emotional reactions; it was fair to say that most, if not all residents of Kettegat were scared of Ivar, and his unpredictable ways. You were different.
You had appeared in the dead of night days before, for you had been experiencing the most intense, vivid visions. You had experienced visions since you were a mere child. Your mother and father had kept it quiet, as they knew what would happen if you were found to be a seer. They were not ready to let go of their little girl.
But, as you grew older, so did your visions and connections. You felt yourself growing more powerful, and you wanted to know more. You ran away from home once you felt restricted; you knew that your parents had your best interests at heart, but the gods had chosen you, and that was more special than any human love you felt.
You had visions of people often, both ones whom you recognised, and whom you had never seen before. Ivar was the first that you felt compelled to seek and guide. His bright blue eyes were scratched into your memory, and you felt the need to be close to him. As close as possible. You had always seen Ivar, since you were a child, but not often; a few times a year, perhaps. You did not know his name, you only knew what you saw, and that was not a lot. As you grew older, you pieced information about him together as though it were a puzzle.
You had known that his father, Ragnar Lothbrok had died; that night, you lay as you saw a brief picture of Ragnar in a snake pit. Since that night, your visions of Ivar became more intense and frequent than ever before and you knew that it was finally time to go and visit Ivar, and tell him everything.
“Do you know who I am?” Ivar's voice was low, venomous, but with a thread of curiosity woven through it. “What I am capable of?”
You tilted your head slightly, your hands clasped before you. “I do,” you replied, your tone even. “I know more of you than most, Ivar Ragnarsson. I know the weight of your pain, the fire of your ambition. And I know what the gods have shown me of your future.”
The room grew still, the air charged with unspoken tension.
Ivar breathed, a wide grin stubbornly stood on his lips as his eyes bore into you. Using both hands to grip the steel chair in front of you, you leant forward, ensuring to not break eye contact.
His eyes squinted slightly. “How convenient,” he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “that the gods have sent me a seer—one who just so happens to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
You stiffened but kept your composure, your hands remaining clasped before you.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin widening as he spoke. “Do you know how many women have tried to impress me? How many have thrown themselves at me, hoping to worm their way into my favour?” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet none of them were what I wanted. Not one of them matched the image in my mind of what the gods should send me. And now, here you are.” He peered up at you, expecting some sort of reaction. But much to his dismay, you stared at him with the same blank expression, despite your thundering heartbeat.
“I’m supposed to believe,” he continued, his voice now low and sharp, “that out of all the women in all the kingdoms, the one who stands before me now—the perfect match for my tastes, my desires—was sent here by the gods?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head again. “It sounds like a story a fool would believe.”
Your eyes narrowed, "you are a fool to think that the gods are so against you." You snapped, the echo of your works ricocheting throughout the room. Ivar's head consequently snapped up, his eyes widening due to the sheer shock of how you would dare to speak to him in such a way. His lips curved into a small smile; he liked it.
Ivar nodded his head, in turn encouraging you to continue. To which, you obliged. "Ivar, when your father died, my visions got stronger. I have always seen you, since I was a child. The gods are trying to tell me something. Destiny is not kind, Ivar. But it is powerful. And the gods do not make mistakes. I have seen you, in every vision, as clearly as I see you now. You are everything I have ever pictured, everything I have ever longed for, even when I didn’t understand what it meant. And I believe they sent me here because we are meant to shape each other’s fates." Your words came tumbling in a chaotic manner. This is the first time that you had shown any slight inkling of being a human being.
Ivar's grip tightened on the table in front of him. Silence rang in the air, as he quite clearly fought with his thoughts. You almost turned around and walked away, however, Ivar's sudden words broke the quietness.
"Everything you have ever longed for, you say?" His words were low, and teasing. You looked up at him in disbelief; after all that time, and all that tension, that was all that that he could think of?
"You do not understand both the weight and importance of my words." You shook your head. "You must start taking life seriously now, Ivar. You need to focus, if you want to be a leader." You spoke loudly, frustration soaring through your body.
Ivar was both shocked and overwhelmed. He did not understand why he was allowing someone to speak to him in such a way, and yet he knew exactly why. You were everything that he had ever dreamed of, and more. You were telling him your exact thoughts and feelings, while also making him feel as though he were the most important person in the world, and he could not fathom why.
"Prove it to me. Prove that you are who you say." He demanded, now a sense of seriousness planted on his face. He looked at you expectantly, an arrogance in his demeanour, in an attempt to mask his vulnerability.
You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, not faltering in the face of his simmering anger. You had seen his past—his childhood, his memories. The pieces of him that no one else knew, that he himself had buried. It was now time to lay them bare. You began to tell him stories of his childhood; his mother telling him stories about the gods, waiting for his father to come home.
"Lucky guess, perhaps." He said, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips.
You took a deep breathe. "Fine." You said. "You want something more personal?" You asked, your eyes peering up at him. He nodded in response, clearly amused. "You remember the first time it happened," you whispered, watching his face closely. " She was little, and blonde, the complete opposite to me. The first time you gave yourself to someone, thinking it would make you feel more… more like a man. More powerful. But it didn’t. It didn’t feel the way you thought it would. It was messy, uncertain, and for all the bravado you showed, there was a deep, gnawing loneliness underneath. It wasn’t just about taking what you wanted. It was about seeking something more—seeking connection, seeking validation. But that connection didn’t come from anyone but yourself."
Ivar's jaw clenched, he could not believe that you knew the details of his life- personal details, personal memories. His lips parted, as though he had intended to speak. He however, did not.
"And all the women that came after that, and I believe that there were many, were not good enough. You did not enjoy them, any of them." Your voice became low, as you stepped forward, closing the gap between you.
His gaze intensified, a mixture of confusion, longing, and something else—something dangerous—flaring in his eyes.
You smiled softly, a confident smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “You’ve always been searching for me, Ivar. And now, here I am, standing before you. No other woman could ever compare to what we’re meant to have. To what we’ve always had.”
In one swift motion, he reached for your waist and pulled you towards him. He looked at you for a moment, his breath hitching and his body stiffening for a moment. And then, just like that, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that left no room for hesitation or doubt.
The kiss was hungry, desperate. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you into him, his touch urgent and possessive. Your knees weakened at his actions, for his touch felt right, and his possessiveness was something that you yearned for.
Your hands tangled in his hair, deepening the kiss as the heat between you both soared higher.
Ivar pulled away just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, eyes dark and searching. He stared at you, as though trying to memorise the very essence of you in that moment. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he rasped, his voice husky, thick with desire and something else—something deeper. No woman had ever made him feel this way; he had never wanted someone so much, respected someone so much.
You barely had time to respond before he kissed you again, more urgently this time, his mouth claiming yours with a raw intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hands moved to the small of your back, lifting you up against him, the need to be closer, to feel every part of you against him growing unbearable.
He pulled away suddenly, causing your eyes to flutter open as you look up at him. His eyes darkened, "You will guide me." He stated, causing you to in turn nod your head. His grip on your waist tightened. "You are mine." He stated, his words laced with emotion. His words caused your stomach to erupt with a feeling unfamiliar to you, nervousness.
“I’ll kill anyone who dares go near you,” he growled. You could feel the raw intensity in his words, the promise of violence that came with them. You had proven yourself to him and it was as though he saw you as something precious, something irreplaceable, and he would protect you with every ounce of his being.
“And if anyone dares doubt your visions,” he continued, his voice low, “if they question the gods or the fate that binds us, they’ll meet the same fate. No one will ever dare challenge you or the truth you carry. No one will harm you.”
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woahhhgwendolyn · 1 year ago
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Ivar Having A Crush On You Would Include...
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Ivar having a crush on you would be so obvious to everyone. Everyone would always bring it up to him and make fun of him for having this crush on you because they thought that he would never be able to pull you. He would always fantasize about you and the things that you both could do together. He would always get really nervous around you and try and talk to you but could never make a full conversation with you because he is so nervous around you. He eventually gets over this and starts to make conversations longer with you and even gives you gifts quite often.
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