#ivar romance

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 20

Happy 2025! (We're going to ignore its been ages since I've updated.)

Special shout-out to @cdauni your ask gave me the boost of confidence to write this chapter!

Words: 7700

Warnings: all the feels and mild smut

Series Masterlist

Warmth and softness surrounded her, a tonic to her weary heart. She wanted to stay here, live in the contentment and peace offered in her sleep. 

Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas. 

Wakefulness slithered into her mind, nudging aside the residual sleep and dreams to coil around her mind and squeeze until her eyes popped open. With a muffled groan, Kari gave in. Her eyes slowly opened, bringing her fully into the land of the living. 

The first thing she saw made her pause. 

Lying within arm's reach was Ivar. Eyes closed. Long lashes dusted his cheeks. Mouth slightly parted. One hand tucked under his face and the other bridged the gap between them, as if seeking her out even in sleep. He appeared so serene in the moment, all the fury and fear wiped away, that impenetrable shield to protect himself was lowered to reveal a softness that was not witnessed during wakefulness. 

Before Kari could appreciate the moment more, her bladder reminded her of its dire need. 

Very slowly, she scooted off the massive bed, untangling herself from the gray sheets and blanket, planting her bare feet onto the cold, hardwood floor. A dim light came from one of the open doors in the bedroom. Trudging through her groggy memories, Kari thought it might be the bathroom, so she headed in that direction. 

Thankfully, her guess was correct. Quietly closing the door, she flipped the light switch on and gasped at the magnificent bathroom.  

The entire room was marble, with light gray marble walls, a matching light gray countertop, and dark gray marble flooring. A standing only, glass paneled shower was situated in the corner near the porcelain toilet. But it was the glorious bathtub that held her in its thrall. A gleaming white porcelain tub that appeared the size of a small jacuzzi. Even from where she stood in the doorway, she could see nodules in the tub where jets would come from. 

At some point she was going to bask in that tub, she silently vowed to herself. 

Finally emerging from her beautiful bathtub haze, she hurried to the toilet on the other side of the bathroom and did what she came there to do. 

Standing at the bathroom sink, washing her hands in the warm water, her mind began to attempt to piece together the night before. She remembered the car crash, being at the hospital, and the reunion with Ivar. She could recall the drive back to the brothers’ house, cuddled against Ivar, biting back the tears and screams bubbling up in her throat. 

Whilst in the hospital, the sun finally descended and now all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. Once they arrived, Ragnar and Hvitserk practically dragged her and Ivar to the kitchen, forcing them to eat something, carrying on a conversation nearby which she did not mind, as she picked at the sausage, cheese, crackers and grapes that Ragnar had pulled together for them. If she felt tired, Ivar looked like he was already asleep as he mindlessly put pieces of food into his mouth and chewed. Since stepping out of the vehicle, his hand held hers, refusing to release her. Even now, sitting next to her on a stool, he kept his hand always on her, either slowly rubbing circles on her lower back or hand placed on her thigh. For her comfort or his own was debatable, but she would not deny how it filled her with a comforting warmth. 

After they had consumed enough to satisfy Ragnar, the two were allowed to retire. 

Asking politely where the spare room was she could sleep in, Kari was shocked by the loud snarl that erupted from the man beside her and his sharp comment of ‘fuck that’. She was equally startled by the muffled snorts and chuckles by the other two Lothbroks still in the kitchen. 

Without a word of thanks to his brother or father, Ivar grabbed her hand and led her away. She tried to pay attention where he led her. Going down a hallway away from the kitchen, they passed several rooms. The only one with an open door that Kari could glimpse into showcased a couch and shelves of books. The library. Heat flooded her cheeks when she recalled what happened last time they were in that room together. Had it really been over a month ago?

They continued, turning the corner into a new hallway with only one door midway down. 

Weak moonlight peeked through the large windows to cast the bedroom in shade and shadow. The poor light illuminated the massive bed just in front of the windows. Gently, Ivar led her there, guiding her to sit down. After she settled, he walked towards one of the two doors to the right of the bed, disappeared for a brief minute and then returned carrying something. 

“Here.” He handed her what looked like a t-shirt. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I'm okay.”

He grunted, rubbing his temple and headed there himself. 

Before she could second guess herself, she quickly changed into Ivar's t-shirt, guessing it was some sort of band shirt but unable to truly tell in the low light. She made a careful pile of her folded clothes, setting them on the nightstand next to the side of the bed. As she sat down again, her eyes roamed over the shadowy bedroom. It reminded her of a studio apartment…well perhaps a large one with the amount of floor space. To the left of the bed looked like a kitchenette, with a full fridge and a few small appliances on a countertop next to it. An impressive bookshelf stood next to a huge TV, mounted against the wall across the bed. The bed itself was easily a California king size, with a large, metal headboard, making Kari wonder if she could get lost in the enormity of it. 

Before Kari could snoop more, Ivar opened the bathroom door, wearing just a pair of sweatpants. He slowly walked over to the opposite side of the bed, pain etched in every step, hand braced on whatever solid object was nearby to take some of his weight. After sitting down on the bed, he unbuckled his leg braces, the clunk of them against the nightstand as he leaned them against was loud in the silent bedroom. 

Without a word, he pulled the covers down, dragging himself backwards and under the covers with a relieved sigh. 

“Kari. Get in bed.” He grumbled when she apparently took too long to follow his actions. 

Unable to fully suppress the small smile, she mirrored his actions, slipping under the plush covers on the opposite side of the bed from him. As soon as she settled, Ivar attacked. Using his long arms, he snagged her around the waist, causing her to squeak, and pulled her flush against him, her back to his chest, tucking his face into her hair. 

“Good night, Kari.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head, a large hand splayed over her stomach. 

“Sweet dreams, Ivar.” She placed her smaller hand over his, entwining their fingers. 

He hummed a pleased sound in response. 

In that unfamiliar bed, with all the trauma of the day, Kari expected it would take a long time to unwind and be able to sleep, to ignore the memories and the fear waiting in the shadows of her mind. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day and weeks leading up to it that helped her drift off into a peaceful slumber. As she lay in Ivar's arms, comforted and protected, safe in his embrace and cared for, she knew her peace was attributed to the man who looked at her like he would burn the world down to keep her warm. 

Now standing at the sink, she stilled, planting her hands firmly on the countertop. The draw to turn away enticed her, to refrain from acknowledging the pain she could feel in her body. Stupid, she mentally chided herself, coward. So with a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to finally look at herself in the mirror. She was not sure what she expected to see. Logically she knew the car accident was minor compared to others, but she still expected to see…well, more. The left side of her head was tender, a dull ache radiating from it. A small band aid covered the cut on her temple, begrudgingly placed there by the discharge nurse at Ragnar's insistence. A few small scrapes were scattered across her face. Tugging on the t-shirt she wore, the hem dancing along her thighs, the blossoming bruises following the path of the seat belt were just visible. As if with the reminder, a fresh wave of pain crested over her, her body sore and ached all over like she was recovering from the flu or had worked out too hard the prior day and was now dealing with the aftermath. 

Her hands began to shake as the memories awoke with the review of her injuries. Images sealed in a locked part of her mind, jostled free from the car accident. The sun shone brilliantly that day, a perfect summer's day. The screeching of tires on the pavement. The crunch of two opposing forces crashing into one another. Devastation. Blood and screams. Blue-green eyes staring into hers but unseeing. Even as she cried his name, begging him–

“KARI!”

The abrupt shout of her name startled her from the spiraling her brain attempted to drag her into, forcing her to relive unwanted memories. She dragged in a shuddering breath as the memories vanished like smoke. 

Immediately, she turned and opened the bathroom door, walking back into the bedroom. Whatever her mind could possibly conjure was in no way close to the sight before her eyes. 

Ivar sat up in his bed, covers pooled around his waist and bare chest on display. A sight that would have been drool-worthy normally. But not now. Not with his wide eyes, panic and terror evident in them. His chest rising and falling as if in a fight for each breath. Hands clenched the gray sheets. 

As soon as the bathroom door opened, panicked eyes swept to her, those blues churning like an uneasy sea. 

“Kari?” He mouthed in a near whisper. 

“Yeah.” She hesitantly replied, never seeing him so distraught before. “Ivar, are you okay?”

“You're here.”

“Yeah.”

“You're here. You're here.” He stared at her, speaking as if to himself, as if reassuring himself she was not a mirage. “You didn't– you're not– ohh fuck…you're– fuck!” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes roughly, the dark cast on his right hand most likely grating against his skin.  

“Ivar?” She moved a step, concern drawing her in.  

His eyes raised back up to her, tears filling them, chin wobbling. He raised a hand out to her, silently beckoning her closer. 

And she responded with a second thought. 

Hurrying across the space, she crawled back into the bed until she was next to his trembling form. Before she could apologize or question him, Ivar did something she never thought she would ever truly see. He tucked his head into the crook of her neck and began to cry. Not soft, silent tears. Not feeble cries of sadness. No, these sounded like they came from the depths of his soul. A keening of helplessness, of despair, of brokenness. With gasping breaths, he clung to her like she was a mast on a ship rolling on stormy waves, hoping to just survive. 

Her arms banded around him, holding him close, feeling each ragged attempt to fill his lungs, body shaking with the force of his cries. One hand pressed against the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away. Listening to him, hearing him bleed out his pain and sorrow, how could she turn away? 

How long they stayed that way, she was unsure. At some point, tears coated her cheeks as her own swirling, chaotic emotions spilled forth. Time morphed as they gripped onto one another, a safe harbor to weather the storm, to drain the turbulent emotions hounding them for weeks. 

“I thought you were gone…” He choked out once his sobs lost their sharp edges. “I thought–fuck…I can't–I...” He tried to pull away, starting to lean back. She sensed that broken barrier of his attempt to rise, to separate them, to protect himself. 

And she was not having that. 

Not now. 

Only allowing him to sit up enough so she could cup his face, she refused to let him fully retreat from her. His vivid, blue eyes swam with residual tears, red-rimmed and huge. Yet still so beautiful. 

“Ivar, it's okay. I've got you.” She cooed, brushing the tear tracks from his cheeks, praying her touch soothed the cracked and bleeding edges in his soul. “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

He exhaled a harsh breath as his eyes slammed shut. She could feel the fight drain from him, that need to protect himself. Once again, he gave in, surrendered to the tsunami of writhing emotions. He pressed his forehead against hers as his shoulders shook with soft sobs with the last of his tears, the purging of the final poison from the body. 

“I'm sorry, Kari, I'm so fucking sorry. For everything.” The words poured forth, a dam unlocked. “I never meant— you didn't deserve that. I promised, I fucking promised! And then–” he choked on a sob, drawing it back in as his confession continued to flow freely. “I'll do anything, whatever you want. Just name it. I'll do anything. Just please…please don't leave me. I can't– I need you, I need you so much it fucking hurts. Please, let me make it up to you. Anything. Anything you want. Just don't– don't leave me alone.”

Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she listened to his words, heard the raw pain in his voice, and was finally allowed to witness the sheer well of need and feelings he kept locked up to protect his heart. A well she had only caught glimpses of in the past, but now the gate was wide open and she was allowed to enter. To truly see and marvel at the fathomless depths of his feelings. 

Ivar hissed, voice thick, as he tenderly wiped away the tears dripping off her chin. “No, no, kjære. Don't cry, not for me. I'm not worth it.”

“Of course you're worth it, you silly man!” She laugh-cried. “I care about you…so much. It's been so hard being away from you. God, I thought of you everyday. I just– I needed space but I missed you so much.”

“Kari–” he whispered. 

“And even after I didn't talk to you for three weeks, you still came for me. You saved me.”

“I didn't sav–”

“You saved me!” She interrupted, tone in such a way he was unable to refuse. “I was so scared, I couldn't, I just–and then you came. And I knew I was safe. That everything would be okay cause you were there. That you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.”

“Fuck,” his voice hard with his confession, “I'll do anything to keep you safe. I swear it. I'd die for you, Kari.”

“Ivar, no–”

“I would. I'd do anything for you to be happy, even if that isn't with– I just need you to be happy.”

“I've never been happier than when I'm with you.”

He released a shattering breath, a shiver wracking his body, as if his body fought to absorb her own confession, her own truth. 

“Want to know something I learned? I think I've known it for a while but I– I was scared for it to be true?” She did not wait for his response, thumbs gently stroking his damp cheeks. “That when I think of home– it's always your face that's the first thing that comes to mind.”

He groaned, voice hitching as he spoke. “Kari, fuck, kitten, you can't- stop making me cry, fuck!”

They both chuckled wetly, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other's presence. So longed for and finally here. Allowing their fractured, splintered hearts to begin to mend. Their touch, their words, a healing balm desperately needed. 

“Kari? Can I kiss you?” Nerves and lingering fear tainted his voice as he asked. “Please?”

A million thoughts sped through her mind but only one word slipped past her guard, to touch the air and admit her need for him. 

“Yes.”

Not wasting a moment, his lips brushed hers hesitantly, as if expecting her to pull away, to rescind her agreement. Once, twice, the gentlest of touches. A soft tease. A hesitant experiment. A hopeful promise. 

Instead of waiting for him to take control, Kari firmly pressed her lips to his, melding their mouths together, the need for him overwhelming.  Her hands tangled in his loose hair, keeping him where she wanted him. Refusing to give ground to the battle waging within him. 

With the open invitation, Ivar invaded. What soft, pressing of their lips, sipping from each other's mouth, tasting what they both had desired and yearned for once again, quickly became heated. A clash of tongues and teeth. Hands tugging and roaming. A plundering. A feasting. A celebration and an apology embedded in each feverish kiss. 

Under the onslaught of his affections, Kari found herself laying on her back on the bed, Ivar hovering over her like a dark guardian angel, wings of protection and adoration draped over her form. 

After one more greedy kiss, Ivar leaned back, those piercing blue eyes peering down at her. “Fuck, kitten, I need you. I need– I need to know you're alright.”

“What..?” Her mind in a dizzying haze, but somehow through the fog, she knew what that typically meant. A tension replaced the languid ease, coiling in her gut as she prepared to push him away. It had not been even twenty-four hours back in his presence, she was not ready for that. She should stop th–

“I know.” He pecked her lips, silencing her worries as if sensing her insecurity. “I know you aren't – trust me, okay?”

She stared up at him, heart pounding within her chest, but unable to deny the devotion in his gaze. Somehow she knew, with every atom in her body, he would not dismiss her concern, not now. “I do. I trust you, Ivar.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “You're too good for me.” After a moment, he sat up, hovering over her, hands gliding down to the hem of his t-shirt she wore. She tensed for a brief moment, in awe when he stopped and made eye contact, waiting for her permission. 

“I trust you.” She murmured. 

With that, he slid the t-shirt up her body, mindful of his cast not scratching her soft skin, and helped slip it over her head, leaving her in a purple sports bra and a black thong. 

“You're beautiful.”

Tears welled back up in her eyes at the sheer adoration in his voice, the devotion in his eyes as he gazed down on her. Was this what a blind man looked like when he saw the sun or the stars for the first time? How could she not trust him? To fall a little deeper into the well of affection for him when he beheld her like that?

He gently brushed his fingers where she could feel the bruises from the seat belt begin on her shoulder. “Does this hurt?”

“Only a little.”

He hummed before tipping forward and placing a light kiss where his fingers had just touched. Instead of pulling back, his lips traveled. He placed gentle kisses along the line of bruises across her chest, only tugging her bra down slightly to kiss the space between her breasts before continuing the path downward. 

Once he reached her side, he paused to meet her eyes. At that moment, she thought she could happily drown in the vastness of them, a clear sky she wanted to soar in forever. 

Still gazing at her, he slid a single digit along her underwear line. “Can I?”

“Ah, s-sure.”

With tender care, he tugged her thong down her legs, making her heart race and nerves awaken with their descent, then he tossed them off over the side of the massive bed.

“Hey!” Her eyes followed their fall before snapping back to him. 

“You don't need those around me.” He said cheekily, yet his gaze remained on the spot between her legs, bare for his perusal. 

Nerves awoke the butterflies in her belly, making them dance and swarm. Subconsciously, she tried to shift her legs, to close them, to prevent her most intimate part from being on display. 

“No.” Ivar snapped, but without heat, placing his hands on her knees to prevent her movement. He glanced up at her, watching, waiting. When she made no further movement, no denial leaving her lips, even as her throat constricted with the butterflies clambering upward, he smirked down at her like a conquering hero. “Good girl.”

Then for the second time that day, he did the unexpected. 

Slowly, he slid back on the bed until he laid on his stomach, gaze never wavering from hers, keeping her restrained from moving, a prisoner to him alone. 

“Ivar, what–”

But when his mouth pressed against her inner thigh, an open-mouth kiss so close to her core, her mouth snapped shut. Her eyes drifted closed as she gripped the sheet on the bed, anything to ground her from the sensation shooting through her body. 

He chuckled wickedly then licked a thick, scalding line against her folds. 

“Oh!” She gasped, body jolting at the new sensation, overly aware of the wetness already dampening her core. 

“Gods, I've dreamt of this. So fucking good.” He murmured against her thigh before diving back in.

He teased her folds with his tongue, tasting, tormenting, driving her wild, lips occasionally moving to play and suck on her clit before returning to her core. When her legs closed against his head, it only seemed to spur him onward. Distinctly she wondered how long his tongue was as he seemed to be attempting to taste her spine through her, touching something within her that made her hips attempt to buck off the bed and infuse her moans in the air around them. 

It was all she could do to remember to breathe, as he played her like an instrument he mastered. His name dripped from her lips like honey, a chanting of his name, a petition to her god. Every thought fled her body, her whole focus narrowed down to his touch, to the fire scouring her veins. 

“My Kari. My kitten.” He whispered against her skin, branding her with his words, only to dive back in and feast. 

She could feel that edge getting closer, that coil winding tighter and tighter within her belly, almost ready to snap, to fall into oblivion, when suddenly Ivar drew back. 

“Don't you fucking leave me again.” He commanded hoarsely, biting her inner thigh, sending a wave of pained pleasure streaking through her. “Fuck, I need you, Kari.”

“Ivar, please….”

“Promise me!” He snarled, hands on her thighs, keeping her restrained, denying her the friction she so desperately sought. At her responding whine, he bit her again. “Promise me you'll stay!”

“I promise.” She sobbed, desperate for her release. Hands clawed at the sheets, the back of his head, anything to keep her from this tormenting limbo. “Please, Ivar, please!”

Then he descended, claiming her as if a man possessed, sending her soaring, seeing stars with a shriek of his name.  

When she could finally open her eyes, heart still beating a rapid tempo within her chest, her gaze froze on the sight of Ivar leaning his head against her thigh, his eyes trained on her with a sweet smile on his glistening lips. Something about the curve of his mouth, the almost dazed look in his blue eyes, she realized she had never seen him look so soft, so blissful, like he had touched the stars alongside her.  

Yet even in the afterglow of her orgasm, a realization of what she allowed him to do, of how she was still bare from the waist down. A flashing feeling of embarrassment and shame shot through her, but she tried to ignore it, refusing to give it the space to tear away the wonderful feeling she floated on. 

“Hi.” She said, shyly. 

He chuckled impishly. “That good, huh?”

Now a warmth blossomed on her cheeks. “I'm not sure I can move.” 

“Mmmm…good. I don't plan on you going anywhere.” He crawled up her body, planting a smacking kiss to her lips then flopped on his back next to her. After a long, silent minute, he spoke up again, confidence wavering like candlelight in his voice. “Was it– did you like it?”

She almost laughed, turning on her side to face him. “Could you not tell? Gods, that was…”

“I've–” He huffed, running a hand through his hair as he stared up at the ceiling. “I've never gone down on anyone.”

“What?”

He started to open his mouth then snapped it shut and only shrugged, refusing to remove his gaze from the ceiling. 

She leaned up slightly, just enough to fully see his face and catch his gaze. “Ivar, that was incredible. I think I'm still seeing stars.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She was charmed by his boyish pride, that twinkle in his eyes and the tilt of his lips upward, he looked so pleased with himself. “What…what about you? I mean, do you need–um…”

He laughed, carefully grabbing her hand and bringing it to his crotch. Instead of having her pull his cock out, he placed her hand on the fabric of his sweatpants. Immediately, she yanked her hand back, mouth open in shock at the large wet spot she had touched. 

“What–”

“Apparently, I enjoyed it too. Fuck, I don't know the last time I cumed in my trousers. You were so fucking sexy though. Gods, I can't wait to do it again. I need to hear you moaning my name at least one more time today, preferably twice.”

“Oh my gods, Ivar! You can't-you can't say stuff like that!”

“What? That I found you moaning my name the fucking sexiest thing I've ever heard. Wait! Can you do it again and I'll make it my ringtone?”

She laughed, even as she ducked her head, pressing it to his shoulder with the wave of embarrassment crashing over her. “You wouldn't.”

His lighthearted chuckle was music to her ears. “No, those sounds are for my ears alone. I'm selfish when it comes to you. Only I get to taste you, to hear you moan, to hold you. And I won't apologize for being a fucking selfish asshole about it.”

Leaning back up on her elbow, she reached over and traced his Mjolnir necklace laying on his chest, biting her bottom lip as fresh thoughts raced across her mind. 

“What?” He asked. 

“I…I want us to work. I want an…I want an ‘us’. I want to be your girlfriend.” As his mouth started to open, she placed a finger over his lips. At his slow nod, she withdrew her hand and continued to trace the necklace, eyes on the swirls and markings on it. “But there's conditions. First, we need honesty between us. I know there's certain things with your work that you can't tell me about. And that's fine, I get it. But in regard to us, to our relationship, I need to trust you. You hurt me, Ivar. More than– like…ugh, it hurt. But I am trusting you won't do that again. That if something comes up and you question me and my feelings for you, that you'd come to me first instead of taking the accusation at face value. Okay?”

“I promise.” The agreement held a tone of reverence, as if vowing to her and his gods. It sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Good, and one more thing.” She snapped her eyes up to bore into his. “If you ever lay your hands on me again like that, I will walk away and not come back.”

“I know, min skatt. It won't happen again.” 

“I'm serious, Ivar. I won't– I can handle a lot but that…”

Somehow he seemed to understand what she meant. Tugging her hand away from the necklace, he pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I don't want you to be frightened of me. I never wanted you to be scared because of me. Others, yes. It's– it's a way to maintain control, to have others terrified of what you'll do in revenge. But not you, never you.” With his casted hand, he brought it to gently run the back of his fingers over her jaw, gazing at her in what could only be described as wonder. 

She fidgeted under that look. “What?”

“You–you're too good for me.” He huffed out a chuckle. Carefully, he guided her to lay back down, both of them now laying on their sides facing one another. “I had planned to grovel for your forgiveness. I was willing to do fucking anything. Buy you whatever you want. I would even kneel to beg for your forgiveness, to beg for another chance to prove I can be better.”

“I don't need you to buy me things.”

“What can I do? How can I prove it?”

“You did already.” She whispered, losing herself in the sincerity of his voice and the pleading in his eyes. “You came for me. When I was terrified, you came. My hero.”

He laughed wetly. “My Kari, my beautiful girlfriend.” With an devious smirk, he leaned up slightly to slot his lips over hers, stealing a kiss. “Mine.” He declared before stealing another kiss. “My girlfriend.” Another kiss. “My sweet.” Another kiss. “Mine.”

She laughed, pulling away from his searching lips, to trace them with her fingers. “And you're mine. My boyfriend.”

“Fucking finally.”

“Ivar…” 

He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, making her  squirm, even as he snickered. “You think I was possessive before? Shit. I'm never letting you out of my fucking sight now. I'm going to keep you in my bed forever. There's no need for clothes, since I plan on having you over me…or under me as often as possible.”

She laughed, then squeaked as his hand traced up her bare thigh and grabbed an ass cheek. “Ivar!”

“I can work on my laptop. You can do your yoga next to the bed, then immediately get back in. We'll watch fucking good shows, not your romantic shit. Hvitserk will deliver us food. Hmmm…on second thought, he'll eat it. I'll pay someone to bring it in here.”

“You're being ridiculous. What about my wor– oh gods! Lydia!” She abruptly sat up, dislodging him in her frantic movement. “Oh crap! She's probably worried. I'm supposed to be at work right now! And I have my other job tonight. Oh no. Crap, crap, crap.”

“What other job?”

She scanned around, trying to remember if she had her phone. “What? Oh, I got another job in the evenings.”

“Why?”

“I…I needed it. My rent went up, so, yeah.”

“Kari,” he sighed out her name, trailing a hand down her arm, “I would have paid for your rent. All you had to do was ask.”

“I know, Ivar. I didn't want to. I can figure it out. It's fine.”

“Please, Kjære, let me help.”

Releasing a slow exhale, she shifted to look down at him. “I–I'll think about it. First I need to call Lydia. I need to tell her I'll be late.”

“You're not going in today.”

“I have too. I need the paycheck.”

He audibly growled, rising up beside her, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. “Kari, you were in a goddamn car accident yesterday and had a concussion. You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to let you go to work. And if I explain this to Lydia, I doubt she'd let you come in too.”

Kari hesitated because honestly, Ivar was right. Even after the pleasurable sensations from her orgasm, her body still felt sore and exhausted. It was that ceaseless drive to prove to herself that she could make it on her own, that she did not need anyone to take care of her. Looking at him though, with the way he seemed ready to tie her to the bed and force her to stay, she wondered if maybe this once it was okay. To lean on him for support and help in more than just friendship. 

“Okay…” She caved, “I still need to call her and let her know. Do you know where my phone is?”

“Use mine.” He carefully scooted over and grabbed his from the end table, unlocking it and handing it to her. “We'll ask Hvits if they got your phone at the hospital. While you're calling, I'm going to clean up.” He placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead, a silent thank-you for her change of mind. Dragging himself back to his side of the bed, he swung his legs over the side and grabbed his leg braces, buckling them on.

Mesmerized by his movements, she could only watch his broad back, those tattoos she loved to trace on his skin, his muscular arms, which held her so tenderly, and strong hands that touched her as if she was a priceless gem. He put on the braces then pushed off the bed to walk to the closet door, slipping inside for a minute before coming out with new clothes in hand.  

“See something you like?”

She startled, not realizing she was still blatantly ogling his form as he walked across the room. “Yes, I love your body.” She blushed after the words spilled out on their own conviction, as if yanked from her mind without permission. 

With eyes widened momentarily, clearly stunned by her easy statement. After that split second, he stomped back over and leaned over the bed to drag her into a drugging kiss that had her gasping into his mouth and fire singing in her veins once more. “Gods, you're perfect.”

“Ivar…” she mumbled, her lips chasing his. 

He chuckled, drawing back. “Make your phone call, then I'll take of you.”

She watched him walk into the bathroom and close the door before finally turning her attention to the phone. 

Her conversation went as Ivar predicted. She called the main line of the yoga studio, then with Sasha answering, she got Lydia on the phone. Hearing about the accident and concussion, Lydia immediately told her to take at least the rest of the week off and to rest. Kari tried to say she did not need that much time but Lydia insisted and to call her if she needed anything. 

Taking note of the morning hour, Kari realized she would have to call the clothing store later to let them know about her accident. They would not even be open for two more hours. 

While talking with Lydia, Kari finally dragged herself out of the stupidly huge and comfortable bed to find her scattered clothing. Her black thong was on the ground beside the expansive bed, as if attempting to hide from her. Instead of putting on her own clothes from yesterday, she slipped back into the band t-shirt of Ivar's. In the morning light, she could see the skull on the black fabric and what must be the band's name printed over the top, she thought she recognized the name from one of Ivar's music rants. Next she wandered over to the kitchenette having spied the Keurig. A cup of hot coffee sounded delightful right now, but she became distracted by the dozens of photographs she had somehow missed last night with her initial snooping of his bedroom. She glided over barefoot to the wall of tacked pictures on a cork board almost as tall as her. 

Most of the photos showcased stunning scenery, mountains seeming a favorite focal point. A handful of scattered photos were artistic shots of a gorgeous woman. Barbed wire tightened around her heart as she thought of Ivar keeping photos of a different woman, someone clearly important. At closer inspection, she realized it was actually Aslaug. With the revelation, she wanted to slap her own head at her jealousy, yet another part of her wilted at seeing another beautiful woman in Ivar's life. What was he doing with someone as mundane as her? He was in another league compared to her. She shook her head, a futile attempt to dislodge her own insecurities. 

The creak of the bathroom door alerted her to Ivar's return but she continued to scan the photos, absorbed in the wanderlust they unearthed within her. 

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his bare chest, apparently only changing into new boxers and a pair of gray sweatpants that felt soft against the back of her legs. 

“Mmmm…you look good in my shirt.” 

She hummed as Ivar pushed her brunette hair over her shoulder and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Before she became too distracted by the handsome man holding her, she gestured towards the wall before them. “What are these?”

“Pictures.”

She rolled her eyes at his deadpan tone. “I figured that, thank you. I mean, who took them? They're stunning.”

There was a long pause before he answered, voice muted as if sharing a secret. “I did.”

“Really?”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah,” she answered truthfully, “you never told me you did photography.”

He shrugged behind her. “It's not something I do as often anymore. My mother tried to have me enter some contests when I was younger but I didn't want to.” 

“You would have won, without a doubt. These are fantastic. Where are they?”

“All over. Locations I've visited and some of my favorite places.” He pointed to a picture towards their right, an audible edge of excitement infused in his voice as he spoke next. “That one I took at Floki's, it's the fjords behind his house. If you look at the bottom there you can barely see where he builds his boats.” He pointed to another a little higher. “That one was from a family trip to Switzerland. My brothers tried to ski and Ubbe ended up almost breaking his arm.” Next, he pointed to one on the left, just above her eye line. “That's of my mother with the Mediterranean in the back. We took a trip, just her and I when I was nineteen and had finally had my last fucking surgery. She wanted to do something extra to celebrate. It was just us for several days…it was nice.”

She tilted her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw, wishing she could soothe the longing, the nostalgia in his voice. “Thank you for letting me see these. These are…wow, I'm in awe. They're so beautiful.”

“Hmmm…” His lips caressed her ear as he whispered, “my favorite one is my phone's background.”

She dropped her head, practically melting against him as warmth flooded her cheeks. It was hard not to notice before she made her phone call earlier. It was a photo of her from several weeks ago, one she had forgotten about. They were out to eat, one of the many restaurants Ivar wanted her to try. Her gaze was focused off screen, having been listening to a man propose several tables away. Her soft gaze translated into the picture, a joyous undertone as she watched two people's lives change due to the love they shared. Her diamond studs and simple diamond pendant necklace caught in the flickering candlelight from the table making her sparkle. After the proposal, she had caught Ivar with his phone out, but instead of confessing to snapping a picture, he teased her the rest of the night about her love of romantic shit. 

He pressed a slow, syrupy kiss to the back of her neck, making her shiver under his touch. “My girlfriend.” His lips trailed to the side of her neck and up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “My Kari.” He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “My beauty…mine.”

Before he could start something, she turned around in his arms, placing her arms around his neck loosely, feeling his hands settle on her hips. Silently, she scanned his face, noting the bruise-like bags under his eyes, seeing the crease in his forehead, the tension in his jaw. 

“Ivar, how have you been? Really? Are you in pain?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“Ivar.”

He inhaled sharply, dropping his head to press his forehead against hers. “I don't want to talk about it. Can't we just focus on now?”

“Hvitserk told me…”

“What did that useless brother say now?” He snapped as her voice trailed off. 

“Be nice.” She reprimanded without any heat. “He said you were drowning yourself in either alcohol or work. Or something like that.”

“That little shit. Can't trust him with fucking anything.” He grumbled, thumbs rubbing back and forth along the patch of skin beneath the hem of her shirt. 

He did not answer right away, so she waited. She could be patient. Something she had noticed about him was his disdain for speaking about when he was in pain, physically or mentally. It would be easy to attribute that to his childhood, to the constant pain he endured, but somehow she knew it was more than that. Her hand massaged the back of his neck as she waited, almost hearing the gears turn in his mind as he debated on what to say. How much deeper to allow her into his inner world. 

“Why do you want to know?”

An undercurrent of fear coated his question, that somehow she would turn his turmoil and fear against him. It fractured her heart anew for him, that it was so instinctual for him to have to protect himself, to never show any kind of weakness. That his only option was to be strong.

Instead of answering his question, she decided to share a glimpse into their time apart, hoping it would encourage him to do the same. “I thought of you everyday. Multiple times a day, if I'm being honest. I appreciated that you gave me my space, even if I hated it sometimes…but I needed it. It gave me time to realize how much better my life is with you in it. That I had already forgiven you after you ordered the food for me that next day.”

He cleared his throat before his words emerged like a confession, slow and halted. “Those first days away from you…I– fuck! I did everything possible to forget that I'd fucked everything up. That I'd lost the best thing in my life. Gods, I was so sure you'd never want to see me again, that you hated me. I even fucked some girls from a club to try and…well.”

She stiffened at his words but did not pull away, allowing him his space, allowing him to be vulnerable, even if it stung like a jellyfish's tentacles were wrapped around her body. 

“I know, I know it was stupid. I don't even remember them, I was high on some strong shit to try and– I wasn't okay.” He sighed, pressing his forehead harder against hers like it would allow his words to seep into her brain, to prove his remorse. “Floki finally hit me a few times over the head, seemed to knock some sense into me. Don't tell him I said that, that damn asshole. After that, I threw myself into working. In the past week I've been mostly living in our business airplane. Gods, I'm–I'm fucking exhausted. It's a damn miracle I haven't broken anything. I feel like I've barely slept the past three weeks. And my legs…ah, fuck, they've been killing me. But I couldn't stop, I–I had to do something, keep moving, or I'd–”

She could see how hard it was for him to admit, like each word out of his mouth was a fight, a struggle to release the bonds keeping his weakness hidden and allow her to peer past the façade, to see how hard it had been the past three weeks. 

“And your cast?”

“That night after you left…I broke my hand on a punching bag. Forgot to wrap it. Fucking stupid.”

“Oh, Ivar.” 

“I want– even with those others at the club. They meant nothing. They are nothing! It was always you I thought of. It's always been you. Ever since that night in the club where you kissed me, it's always been you. And I promise, I'll always take care of you.” His voice caught in his throat, forcing him to swallow thickly to continue. “Please, kitten, please believe me.”

And she did. Gods forgive her but she did. It was in the way his hands clutched her hips, his anguish coloring the air around them, the way he begged for her forgiveness. He would do anything to repent for his sins, any penance she asked, he would comply. 

But all she wanted was him. 

“I do. I believe you.” She slid her hands down to cup his face to tilt his face to meet her gaze so he could see the honesty in her eyes. “It's been you too, since that night. I haven't even been able to look at anyone else like that. I think you've bewitched me.”

“If anyone has been bewitched, it's me. Fucking hell, got me crying and begging.” His lips grazed hers, a whisper of a kiss, a silent acknowledgement, a heartfelt promise. “Can you stay? I just want to hold you and rest and pretend the world doesn't exist. I just need you. Only you. Please?”

With her heart feeling three sizes too big for her chest, she silently guided him back to the bed and crawled in, cuddling into his warm body as he wrapped his arms around her. 

For how could she refuse when he was looking at her like she was his whole world, like he would carve his own heart out and give it to her if she asked, like she was the peace in the midst of his hurricane. 

Like she was his salvation. 

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got @kaybee87 @ultralillylove

(If anyone wants to be added or removed, please let me know!)

[ealdormanink]

Can I request one with Ivar? 💓

You, daughter of a great king, are married to him and the seer told you you will give him many children and Ivar tells you he wants to marry a second wife and you and him were together since you were only teens and you are not really happy about that idea that there maybe will be another woman .

I could totally understand if you dont want to write it 💓

Prophecies and Promises

Ivar the boneless x female reader!

Thank you for the request! I hope you like this oneshot. Content includes angst, drama, and themes of betrayal. Not exactly a happy ending, you've been warned!

The winter wind howled through Kattegat, carrying with it the salt of the sea and the promise of snow. From the great hall's balcony, (Y/N) watched the first light of dawn paint the fjord in shades of gray and silver. Her fingers traced the wooden railing, feeling the familiar grooves where she and Ivar had carved their initials years ago, back when they were barely more than children.

The sound of movement behind her made her turn. Ivar was there, dragging himself across the floor with the same fierce determination he showed in everything he did. Even now, after all these years, her heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him.

"You're up early," he said, pulling himself onto the bench near the wall. His blue eyes, sharp as always, studied her face.

"I couldn't sleep." (Y/N) pulled her furs tighter around her shoulders. "The gods were restless in my dreams."

Ivar's expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. There was something in his eyes she hadn't seen before – a mixture of guilt and resolution that made her stomach tighten with unease.

"We need to talk," he said, patting the space beside him on the bench.

Those words, spoken so softly, carried the weight of an ax falling. (Y/N) knew, with the same certainty that guided ravens to battlefields, that whatever came next would change everything.

The silence stretched between them like a bowstring pulled taut. (Y/N) remained standing, her knuckles white against the dark fur of her cloak.

"The Jarl Eriksson will arrive tomorrow," Ivar said, his voice steady. "With his daughter, Sigrid."

"The shield-maiden?" The words felt like ice on (Y/N)'s tongue. Tales of Sigrid Eriksdottir's prowess in battle had reached even Kattegat's shores. Young, fierce, and above all, from a powerful family whose alliance could strengthen their hold on the northern territories.

"Yes." Ivar's fingers drummed against his leg brace. "I intend to make her my second wife."

The world didn't stop. The waves below continued their endless dance against the shore, and somewhere in the distance, a gull cried out. Yet (Y/N) felt as if she'd been plunged into the deepest part of the fjord, the cold seeping into her bones.

"I see." Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. "And when did you decide this?"

"It's not about decisions, it's about necessity." Ivar moved forward, his arms tensing as he shifted his weight. "We need the alliance with Jarl Eriksson. His ships, his men—"

"Don't." (Y/N) turned to face him fully, her father's royal blood burning in her veins. "Don't pretend this is just about alliances. How many years have we been married, Ivar? How many winters have I shared your bed?"

"Seven winters." His jaw clenched. "Seven winters without an heir."

The truth of it struck harder than any physical blow. (Y/N) remembered the Seer's words, spoken in the darkness of his dwelling: 'Your womb will give Ivar the Boneless more sons than any king before him.' She had clung to that prophecy through every moon that passed without a child quickening in her belly.

"You don't believe in the Seer's words anymore," she said. It wasn't a question.

"I believe in what I can see." Ivar's voice hardened. "I believe in securing my legacy, in strengthening Kattegat. You're a king's daughter, (Y/N). You understand the weight of duty."

"Duty?" She laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "Was it duty when you taught me to throw an ax? When we would sneak away from the great hall to watch the stars? When you promised me I would be the only queen you'd ever need?"

Ivar's expression flickered, a shadow of the boy he'd been passing across his face. "We were children then."

"We were in love then," (Y/N) corrected. She moved away from the balcony, her steps measured and precise. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we were children. But I remember every promise you made, Ivar Ragnarsson, and so do the gods."

She paused at the doorway, her hand resting on the carved wooden frame. "I hope Sigrid Eriksdottir brings you everything you wish for."

The great hall was beginning to stir as she walked through it, servants preparing for the day ahead. None dared meet her eye. News traveled fast in Kattegat, and already they must know what was coming. The proud princess who had failed to give their king an heir would soon share her crown with another.

The arrival of Jarl Eriksson's longships painted a bold stripe of red and black across the harbor. (Y/N) watched from the steps of the great hall as Sigrid Eriksdottir strode onto Kattegat's docks, her golden hair braided with leather and bones, shield strapped to her back. Every inch a shield-maiden, every step that of a future queen.

The crowd parted for her like waves before a ship's prow. (Y/N) felt the weight of every gaze shifting between them – the two queens, present and future, as different as fire and ice. Where Sigrid wore leather and steel, (Y/N)'s dress spoke of her royal upbringing, its deep blue fabric threaded with silver like the night sky.

"Welcome to Kattegat." (Y/N)'s voice carried across the courtyard, steady despite the storm in her heart. This was the game of queens, and she had learned it at her father's knee long before she'd learned to love Ivar.

Sigrid's bow was perfectly measured – respect for a queen, but not submission. "You honor us with your welcome, Queen (Y/N)." Her Norse was clear and sharp, like the ax at her hip. "The tales of Kattegat's beauty do not do it justice."

Behind her, Ivar watched them both, his eyes calculating. He had always loved games of power, but this was no game on a hnefatafl board. These were real pieces, real lives, real hearts being moved across the board.

The feast that night was a blur of mead and music. (Y/N) sat in her place of honor, watching as Sigrid captivated the hall with tales of her raids along the Saxon coast. The warrior-woman's laugh rang true and deep, and more than once, (Y/N) caught Ivar's gaze lingering on her.

It wasn't until the moon had risen high that the first wave of nausea hit her. (Y/N) gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white against the wood. The smell of roasted meat, usually so appealing, suddenly turned her stomach.

"My queen?" Her handmaiden, Astrid, leaned close. "Are you unwell?"

"I need air," (Y/N) whispered, rising from her seat. Few noticed her departure – all eyes were on Sigrid, who was now demonstrating sword techniques with one of Ivar's warriors.

In the quiet of her private chambers, (Y/N) pressed her forehead against the cool stone wall. This wasn't the first time she'd felt ill this week. Or the week before. But she'd been too consumed by Ivar's announcement to notice the pattern.

"My queen." Astrid's voice was soft behind her. "When was your last bleeding?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. (Y/N) closed her eyes, counting back the moons. Her hand drifted to her stomach, and for the first time, she felt it – the slight firmness that hadn't been there before.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, bitter and sweet all at once. The gods had a cruel sense of humor. After seven years of waiting, of hoping, of praying – now, when Ivar had already decided to take another wife, the Seer's prophecy chose to fulfill itself.

"Tell no one," she commanded Astrid, turning to face her oldest friend and servant. "Not a soul."

Astrid nodded, understanding darkening her eyes. "What will you do?"

(Y/N) looked out the window, toward the distant mountains where the eagles soared free. "What any mother would do to protect her child." Her hand remained on her stomach, where Ivar's heir grew stronger with each passing day. "I will ensure no one can ever use this child as a pawn in their games."

The next fortnight passed in a blur of preparations. Sigrid's presence in Kattegat grew stronger with each passing day, her influence spreading like roots through fertile soil. The warriors admired her strength, the common folk her easy manner, and Ivar... Ivar's eyes followed her with an intensity that cut deeper than any blade.

(Y/N) watched it all from behind a carefully crafted mask, one hand often resting unconsciously on her still-flat stomach. The morning sickness she hid behind closed doors, the fatigue she blamed on poor sleep. Only Astrid knew the truth, helping her conceal the signs that would soon become impossible to hide.

The night of the betrothal feast arrived with the first real snow of winter. The great hall blazed with firelight, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and sweet mead. (Y/N) sat in her place of honor, watching as Ivar announced his intention to take Sigrid as his second wife. The hall erupted in cheers, horns raised in celebration.

"A toast!" Sigrid's father boomed, his voice carrying over the crowd. "To the alliance of our houses, to strong sons and victories to come!"

The words struck (Y/N) like a physical blow. Her hand tightened around her untouched horn of mead, watching as Ivar raised his own cup. Their eyes met across the hall, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his gaze – regret, perhaps, or memory. But then Sigrid leaned close to whisper something in his ear, and the moment shattered like ice in spring.

"It's time," (Y/N) whispered to Astrid, who stood faithfully behind her chair. The preparations were complete, set in motion days ago with the quiet efficiency that had made (Y/N) such an effective queen.

Two trusted guards – men who had served her father and come with her to Kattegat – waited by the stables. A small boat was ready at a secluded dock, far from the usual harbor. Everything she needed was already packed, loaded under the cover of darkness.

"Wait three days," she instructed Astrid, pressing a small wooden pendant into her hand – a token that would prove the message came from (Y/N). "Then tell him what I said. Not before."

Astrid's eyes shone with tears she dared not shed. "The gods go with you, my queen."

(Y/N) stood, her movements unhurried and dignified. No one paid much attention as she left the feast – it was common for the first wife to retire early when celebrations involved the second. Outside, the snow fell thick and silent, covering her tracks almost as soon as they were made.

At the stables, she mounted her horse with practiced ease, adjusting her heavy cloak around her. The child within her was still too small to hinder her movements, but she could feel its presence like a warm flame in her belly, a secret strength.

"We ride for the eastern path," she told her guards. "Through the merchant routes, where the traders won't question another group of travelers."

As they rode away from Kattegat, (Y/N) didn't look back. The city that had been her home for seven years disappeared into the snowy darkness behind her. She thought of Ivar, still celebrating in the great hall, unaware that his firstborn child was already slipping beyond his reach.

Three days would pass before Astrid would deliver her message. Three days before Ivar would understand what he had lost. By then, (Y/N) would be far beyond his reach, carrying with her the heir he so desperately wanted – the first of the many children the Seer had promised, though not in the way anyone had expected.

Three days later, the great hall of Kattegat stood silent in the gray light of dawn. Ivar sat upon his throne, fingers drumming against the carved armrest, his mood as dark as the circles under his eyes. The celebrations had ended, but something else had ended too – something he couldn't quite name until Astrid stepped forward, clutching a wooden pendant he recognized immediately.

"Speak," he commanded, his voice hoarse. Three days since anyone had seen (Y/N), three days of searching, of questions met with silence.

Astrid's chin lifted, her voice clear despite her fear. "The queen bade me tell you this: The gods have already chosen the mother of your children long ago. The Seer did not lie."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Ivar's face remained still, but his knuckles whitened against the throne's wood. One heartbeat. Two. Then understanding crashed over him like a wave, and his roar of rage echoed through the hall. The drinking horn in his hand flew across the room, shattering against the wall.

"When?" he demanded, dragging himself from his throne with dangerous speed. "When did she know?"

Astrid stepped back, but held her ground. "I cannot say, my king."

"Cannot or will not?" His eyes blazed with a fury that had made warriors tremble.

"She carries your firstborn," Astrid said softly, delivering the final blow. "The child the Seer promised. The first of many."

Ivar's laugh was hollow, breaking like ice in spring. Of course. Of course the gods would play such a cruel joke. All his plans, his calculations, his political maneuverings – undone by the very thing he'd wanted most.

"Find her," he ordered the guards. "Search every path, every village, every—"

"She's beyond your reach now," Astrid interrupted, earning gasps from those present. "Three days' journey ahead, on routes you don't know, toward a kingdom that will protect its princess."

Ivar's hand shot out, grabbing Astrid's arm. "You helped her."

"I served my queen," she replied, unflinching. "As I swore to do."

Miles away, (Y/N) stood at the bow of a merchant ship, the wind pulling at her hair as they sailed east. Her hand rested on her stomach, where the heir to Kattegat grew stronger each day. The Seer's prophecy would come true, but not in Kattegat's halls. Her children – Ivar's children – would be born free from the politics of second wives and power plays, raised in her father's kingdom, where no one could use them as pawns in a game of thrones.

Behind her, Kattegat disappeared into the horizon, taking with it seven years of love, of promises, of a future that could have been. Ahead lay the unknown, but (Y/N) stood straight and proud, every inch her father's daughter. She was more than Ivar's wife now – she was a mother protecting her child, and in that role, she was as fierce as any shield-maiden.

The wind carried the sound of seabirds and the salt spray of the sea, but not the echo of Ivar's rage as it shook Kattegat's walls. Not the sound of his fist against wood as he realized what his ambition had cost him. Not the bitter truth that his firstborn child – the heir he had so desperately wanted – would grow up never knowing their father's name.

In the end, the gods had given him exactly what he asked for, but taken away everything he truly had.

[ladynightshade30]

Stone by Stone

Author's Notes: I got this idea watching a Jon Snow/Sansa Stark video. I might continue it I might not. I just have no ideas on where to take it from here. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Warnings: Sex, overstimulation, voyeurism

It was an arranged marriage. 

Set up between Kings Ragnar of Kattegat and Acwulf of Âlibbendemere, between their children Ivar, much to his and his mother’s dismay, and Eadwulf. So, the Vikings would stop invading Âlibbendemere while, in return, King Acwulf would provide them with land to settle and farm. And while Ivar and Eadwulf had been married and living in Kattegat for nearly five years, she had yet to make any headway in the relationship between her and her husband. Who seemed to avoid her as much as possible except for meals. And even then, he would ignore her, speaking to his mother or Floki, a boat builder who seemed to hate her even more than Ivar and Aslaug. Ivar would even go so far as to enter their bed late and be up before her.

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to ingratiate herself to Ivar and his mother. The queen seemed to view Eadwulf as distasteful, not only for not being a Viking but for not being enough for her beloved son. So she often found herself weaving or sewing by herself unless Helga, the boat builder’s wife, or Lagartha, Ragnar’s other wife, took pity on her and joined her. 

Thanks to the help of the monk-turned-Viking, Athelstan, and Ivar’s older brothers, she managed to ingrain herself into the hearts of the common people by listening to them and helping them whenever she could. The children, in particular, seemed to adore her and followed her whenever she came into town to speak with the people. But despite the friendship and near-constant presence of Athelstan, who had been assigned not only as her bodyguard but as her translator and guide into the workings of her new home, Eadwulf felt alone. 

She sighed and gathered a small child into her arms as she talked to the girl’s parents about their problems with their roof.

***

“She looks good with a child on her hip,” observed Ubbe to his younger brother.

Ivar snorted as the tattooist worked on a new design on his back. 

Ubbe sighed. “Perhaps you should spend more time with her.”

“I spend enough time with her.” 

Ubbe rolled his eyes. “I am not talking about when you fuck her.”

“We don’t fuck. I would never fuck a Christian.”

Ubbe sighed and tried another tactic. “What about what she does during the day.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Why would I care?”

“To ensure a good marriage.”

“What makes you think I want one?”

“Everyone wants a good marriage and I know you want children someday. If you want to have any chance of having them, you need to take care of your wife.”

“I don’t need her to have children.”

“Then you have taken a mistress?”

Ivar sighed and muttered under his breath. 

Ubbe grinned. “You can start tonight at the festival.”

That said, Ubbe left his brother to watch his wife and ponder his older brother’s words. 

***

The night air was filled with laughter and drunken revelry. Eadwulf moved through the crowd, smiling and laughing with people as she went. 

“Wife,” Ivar said, his face splattered with blood as he approached her, a smile on his face that set her on edge.

Before she could step back, he had grabbed her face with his hands, bloody from the night’s sacrifice, and smeared it across her cheeks. 

“Maybe now you will give me a son,” he said, kissing her for the first time since their wedding. 

The kiss, along with the declaration, came as a surprise and left her speechless. When he drew away, he smeared more blood across her lips before leading her to the head table. 

“Here, tell me about your day.”

Eadwulf was surprised and a little weary by the attentiveness of Ivar. “Why?”

“I want to know what you do when you aren’t with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your husband,” he said before adding under his breath. “Plus, Ubbe won’t leave me alone about how I need to spend more time with you.”

Eadwulf nodded and tried to ignore the part of her that was dismayed about the fact that he wasn’t interested in spending time with her on his own accord. “I see.”

“So?”

“Well, I talked to the people and spent time with the orphans to ensure that they have what they need for the coming winter.”

“Do they?”

“They could use more blankets,” she admitted. “I have talked to some of the other women and they have agreed to help me weave extra blankets for them.”

“That’s good,” Ivar said absentmindedly.

“What about you?” she asked as a slave poured them both a cup of ale. “What did you do?”

“I got a new tattoo and sparred with my brothers.”

“I see.”

***

Ivar shifted in bed and coughed. He tried to sit up, only to collapse back onto the bed. His body was too warm for his liking as he tossed the furs from his naked form. The sudden change in temperature caused Eadwulf to jerk awake and turn to look at him. 

“What is it?” She asked, only to scramble out of bed when she saw how pale he was as she pulled on a shift and called for some slaves.

Aslaug hurried to the room her son shared with his Catholic wife and burst inside. She saw Eadwulf ringing out a cloth and patting down her husband. 

“Fever?” The queen asked. 

“Yes, my queen,” one of the slaves responded. 

“Why did you not summon me immediately,” Asalug demanded after slapping Eadwulf. 

“My apologies,” Eadwulf said softly. “I summoned you as soon as I became aware of the situation.” 

Aslaug snarled a curse and began giving orders to gather things from her room to help heal her son. 

Ivar was barely aware of the world around him save for the few times he was awakened to drink some foul-tasting brew someone, probably his mother poured down his throat. The sound of someone humming softly would lull him back into a dreamless sleep. When the fever finally broke, he awoke to find Lagertha sitting next to him, with Eadwulf sleeping in a chair in the corner. 

“Good, you’re awake and it looks like the fever has gone down.” the blonde woman said calmly.

“Where’s mother?” he coughed as Lagertha got him a drink. 

“She’s asleep in our room,” she answered, before turning her attention to Eadwulf and covering her more comfortably with the blanket. “We finally convinced her and your wife to take a break. We had to give her and Eadwulf a sleeping drought to get them to sleep for longer than an hour at a time.”

Ivar turned his attention to focus on his wife again.

Lagertha followed his gaze and smiled fondly at the redhead before turning to face Ivar. “She barely left your side.”

Ivar tried to sit up, only to collapse back onto the bed with a grunt. 

“Don’t strain yourself just yet,” she reprimanded gently. “Are you hungry?”

Ivar nodded.

Lagertha turned to the door and called for someone to bring food for the prince before returning to the chair at the side of the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, re-wetting the cloth on his forehead.

“Better,” Ivar said.

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Ivar?” asked a small voice. 

Lagertha and Ivar both turned their attention to Eadwulf, who was now awake and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“You’re awake,” Eadwulf smiled. “I’m glad.”

“You should still be asleep,” Lagertha protested.

“I’m fine,” yawned Eadwulf. 

Lagertha scowled as the servants entered, bringing a plate of food. They had thought ahead and brought enough food for Lagertha and Eadwulf as well. 

“Can you feed yourself, Ivar?” Lagertha asked. 

Ivar scowled, “Yes.”

“Very well,” the blonde said as she stood up and grabbed a piece of bread. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

That said, she swept from the room, leaving the married couple alone in their room. 

“How are you feeling, Ivar?” Eadwulf asked as she slowly approached him while he slowly eased himself up. 

“Fine,” Ivar said, before adding. “Better.”

“I’m glad,” she said, offering him a bowl of broth.

Ivar took the bowl and their fingertips brushed against each other. “Did you really stay by my side?” 

Eadwulf took a seat in the chair Lagertha had vacated with her own bowl of soup. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You are my husband,” she said as if it were the obvious thing in the world. “It’s my duty to take care of you.”

“Is that all?”

“It’s also my Christian duty.”

Ivar rolled his eyes at that and almost seemed to pout as he drank the broth. 

“Do you want me to leave and send for your mother?”

“No,” he said, immediately grabbing her wrist. “Let her rest. You stay.”

Eadwulf smiled and took a seat at the corner of the bed. “As you wish, Husband.” 

***

“Wife!” Ivar called as he approached her in the market. 

“Husband,” Eadwulf greeted as the people she had been talking to returned to work. “What can I do for you?”

“Come walk with me,” he said, placing a hand on her lower back. “There are some things I wish to discuss with you.”

“Alright, lead the way.” 

They walked in silence until they came to a clearing in the woods, where Ivar settled down on the ground and relaxed against a boulder. 

“What is it you wanted to speak to me about?”

“Us. Our marriage.”

Eadwulf bit her lip as she settled down beside him. “What about it?”

“I think we can make it work.”

Eadwulf blinked in surprise. “Oh?”

“Yes, I’ve decided something.”

“And what would that be?”

“Being married to a Christian might not be the worst thing in the world.”

“I see,” Eadwulf said, unsure if he had insulted her. 

“Yes,” he said, pausing briefly to look around before rearranging himself, so he was resting his head in her lap. “I want to give this a try.”

“And what brought this on?”

“Nothing, really,” he said as he started to play with her hair. “Just recent events have led me to see I haven’t been fair to you and I want to change all that.”

“Alright,” said Eadwulf softly, staring down into his blue eyes. “I would like that.”

“Good,” he said, reaching up to her and pulling her down to kiss her. “Now, tell me. How was your day?”

“It was good. After we broke fast, I went into town to see how the people were doing and after last year’s drought and so far, this year has been going well. The harvest should be bountiful.”

“Good. What else did you do?”

“Nothing yet,” she said as she stroked his hair from his face. 

“What else were you going to do?” 

“Finish my weaving.” 

“What are you weaving?”

Eadwulf flushed and looked away. “Something for you.”

“Why?”

“You are my husband. Should I not weave things for you?”

“No,” Ivar said. “You definitely should weave things for me. What are you weaving for me?”

“I am making you a new cloak.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to. Do you not want one?”

“No, I want it.”

He rolled over, so they faced each other and forced her onto her back. 

“I want you as well. I want to put a child in you. A child that will mark the start of our new relationship. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

Eadwulf blushed as he leaned down to press another kiss to her lips as he rubbed his hips against hers. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said as he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue slipping out into her mouth.

“Ivar,” she protested between kisses. “We can’t do it out here.”

“Why not?” He asked, tugging at her skirt. 

“Someone could see us.” Eadwulf protested as Ivar’s hand started caressing her breast. “Let’s go to bed.”

“You English and your prudish ways.” Ivar pulled away and stared down at her. “Fine. I will put a child in you in our bed.”

He climbed off her and they both stood up, heading back to town. 

Ivar led Eadwulf to their room before attacking her mouth with his own as soon as the door closed. A soft moan escaped her as he pressed her against the door. Trailing kisses down her throat to the neckline of her dress. He started to tug slightly on the belt that encircled her waist before tossing it to the side. His hands started to tug the dress and underdress over her head until she was standing naked before him. Blue eyes flickered down her nude form, a grin forming on his face.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered, trailing his hands up her sides.

Eadwulf flushed and trailed her hands up his arms before wrapping her arms around his neck. “My handsome husband.”

Ivar chuckled and pressed a deep kiss to her lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and steered her to the bed, slapping her on the rare as he did. Eadwulf giggled as she climbed onto the bed while Ivar stripped himself of his upper clothing before joining her on the bed.

“On your back,” he ordered, slapping her on the butt again.

“Yes, husband.”

Eadwulf settled on her back and spread her legs in welcome. Ivar grinned and lay between her legs, kissing and biting her neck.

“Oh, I have been a bad husband,” he breathed against the skin of her stomach. “A very bad husband for ignoring you, my beautiful Christian.”

“Well, you aren’t now,” whispered Eadwulf.

“No, I’m not now. Now I want to worship you. Adore you. Make you feel the pleasure that I have never given you before.”

“Ivar,” she said, pulling him up to look into her eyes.

“Let me do this.”

“Yes,” she breathed, kissing him deeply.

Ivar moaned into her mouth and balanced on one hand as the other trailed down her body, burying itself between her legs. His thumb fumbled until he found her nub, rubbing slow lazy circles against her. The action earned a low moan from her as he slid one of his fingers inside her. He stretched his finger until it reached the small bundle of nerves inside her.

“There it is,” he breathed. “There’s the little bundle I was looking for.”

Eadwulf moaned and spread her legs wider, rolling her hips to the motions of his finger as it thrust in and out of her. Ivar twisted his hand a little and added another finger inside of her adding scissoring to the movements.

“I want to see how many orgasms I can get out of you, dear wife, before I cum inside of you and make you mine again.”

Eadwulf sighed and nodded, arching her back off the bed as his fingers picked up speed. “Perhaps now we will have a child. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Ivar, to mark the start of our new relationship with the conception of our child?”

Ivar shuddered at the idea and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Yes, that is all I want. A child, a hundred children, and you.”

“Good. Because that is all, I want. Children and you. No one else.”

Ivar grinned and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth. He stopped his fingers' repetitive and quick movements, leaving them inside her. She groaned in protest only to have Ivar laugh softly and make small movements with his fingers, rubbing them against the spot. She cried out as tremors shook her body and came on his fingers arching her back off the bed.

“Did you enjoy that wife?”

“Yes,” Eadwulf panted.

“I hope you aren’t tired already, wife.”

“No, not tired.”

“Good because there is more where that came from far more.”

Eadwulf moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That sounds amazing.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Ivar slowly slid down her body, leaving small kisses and nips as he went until he reached the light curls between her legs. He kissed them gently and nuzzled his nose into them, nudging it between her folds.

“There it is,” he breathed, nudging the little nub with his nose and giving her a lazy, slow lick.

“Ivar!”

Ivar chuckled softly and grabbed hold of her hips, pulling her forward so he could fully bury his face between her legs. He drank from her like a man dying of thirst, making her cum again.

“Ivar, please,” she breathed, tears streaming down her face. “No more.”

“Did I not promise to worship you?” The man chuckled softly and crawled up her body, settling his hips between her thighs before he pushed his pants down his hips. “One more and then we will be done for the night. You have my word.”

“One more,” she breathed as he thrust inside of her. “Give me your seed.”

“Oh, I am going to make sure you milk me until there is nothing more for me to give to you.”

***

Ivar and Eadwulf lay in bed with each other, panting heavily as he tucked her against his side.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Ivar asked as he stroked her arm.

“Of course,” she replied. “How could I forget?”

“Were you scared of me?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I had heard tales of how the Christians were treated here and I was scared my father had found a way to kill me without getting his own hands dirty.”

“What do you mean?” Ivar asked after a moment.

“My father has hated me since I was born because I was not the son he had hoped to have. I believe he married me off to you, hoping you would kill me and he would have an excuse to go to war.”

Ivar was silent for a moment as he considered what Eadwulf had said and his mind drifted back to the past.

6 Years Ago____

Ragnar and Ivar entered the village connected to the large castle in the middle. 

“Father, where are we?” Ivar asked, looking around at the people staring at them with worry and unease.

“Good question. For I do not know,” He said as he paused by a peasant and switched to their native tongue. “Where are we?”

“You are in the Kingdom of Âlibbendemere,” stammered the man.

“And who is your ruler?”

“King Acwulf.”

“And how might I meet this king of yours?”

The peasant began to stammer something when a new voice broke through the crowd that had formed.

“What is it? What is going on?”

Ragnar and his son watched as the crowds parted and as a young woman with flaming red hair woven into two plaits and hidden by a white veil approached them, flanked by guards and other women. The young woman who had spoken was wearing a fine shift of dark blue with golden details. Ragnar watched as the crowd bowed and curtsied to the redhead who had come to a stop before them, her blue eyes taking them both in with interest. He felt his son shift behind him to look closer at her. He could feel Ivar’s heart speed up in interest and grinned thoughtfully. 

Maybe, the Gods sent them here for a reason and all was not lost in their journey west.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing as much as he could. “My name is King Ragnar and this is my son, Ivar.”

“King Ragnar?” She repeated in surprise. “As in King Ragnar Lothbrok? I have heard a great deal about you. What brings you to my father’s kingdom?”

“A storm,” Ragnar answered.

She looked around confused. “Ah yes, are there no others with you?” 

“No, only we survived the storm.”

“I am sorry to hear it. I am Princess Eadwulf and you are welcome in my father’s kingdom. If you come with me, I will gladly take you to him so you may rest and refresh yourselves.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

***

Later that night, Ivar and Ragnar sat at the high table with Eadwulf and her father, Acwulf, along with his newest wife and a Bishop named Heahmund. 

“Tell me King Acwulf,” Ragnar began. “How old is your daughter?”

“She is Fifteen years of age. Why?”

Ragnar looked thoughtful for a moment. “Old enough to marry. My son is seventeen. Perhaps you and I could come to some sort of arrangement.”

“And why would I come into an arrangement with you?”

“Because if you don’t, I will return and raid your kingdom.”

Acwulf scowled. “And if I enter into this agreement, what is to assure me that you will not raid my lands anyway? Especially since it is custom for the daughter to live in her husband’s lands?”

“You have my word,” smiled Ragnar. “Plus, there is one more thing.”

“And what would that be?”

“Farmland.”

The Saxon king laughed. “You think highly of your negotiation skills, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Acwulf sighed and considered the agreement. “No. I will provide you and your son with a ship tomorrow and then I want you gone from my lands. Besides, my daughter is already promised to the grandson of King Ecbert, Prince Alfred.”

Ragnar huffed in annoyance. “As you wish.”

Within a month, Ragnar returned to the Kingdom of Âlibbendemere and by the week’s end, Acwulf agreed to the terms Ragnar had set forth.

Current Day___

“My poor wife. Shall I bring you his head the next time we raid England?” Ivar asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“No,” she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want his head. I want him to be left in the past where he belongs.”

Ivar chuckled. “Such a Christian you are still, wife. What will it take to make you Viking? Hmm? So, if my pretty, little wife doesn’t want her father’s head, what does she want? Hmm? What is it you want then, my pretty Christian? Aside from your father to be left in the past.”

“A child. I want a child with you.”

Ivar smiled and rolled them over. “I am sure I can make that happen.”

Eadwulf giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing in pleasure as Ivar slipped inside her. “I’m sure you can.”

Ivar smirked and started thrusting, slowly at first, before picking up the pace. Enjoying the feeling of her wet walls around him once again, one of his hands slid down her body and he grabbed one of her legs, draping it over the crook of his elbow. The new position caused her cries to increase as pleasure shot up her body.  

***

Eadwulf hurried into the great hall, eager to tell Ivar the good news when she opened the door and froze when she saw Ivar standing there looking at a naked, blonde slave. 

She closed the door silently and headed back the way she came. Moving through the marketplace, she made her way to the outskirts of town until she reached a cliff that overlooked the sea. She played with the ring on her finger, the one Ivar had given her on their wedding day.

“Start anew.” She sniffed slightly and yanked it off her finger before tossing it into the water below. 

She collapsed onto the ground and started crying. 

***

It was night when Ivar finally managed to catch up with his wife.  

“Before we agreed to give it a go. I would avoid you now you are avoiding me. Why is that? There is a feast tonight to celebrate my brother’s return. We should be celebrating.”

“Celebrate with your lover,” she said, pushing him off. 

“What are you talking about, woman?” Ivar asked as he moved after her as best he could.

“I saw you two in our room. If you want to start a new relationship with someone, you should start one with her.”

Ivar rolled his eyes and pulled her back into his embrace. “If you saw me with her and had stayed, you would have seen me send her away. Away from the kingdom entirely.”

“What?”

“She will no longer be a threat to you or us,” Ivar whispered.  “Now stop avoiding me, for I have missed you.”

“We’ve only been apart for one day,” Eadwulf said, rolling her eyes. 

“A very long day,” muttered Ivar, pressing kisses to her neck. “Now, what led you to spy on me?”

“I wasn’t spying on you,” she protested. “I was coming to find you so I could tell you something.”

“And what would that be, hmm?”

Eadwulf grinned and took one of his hands, transferring it to her somewhat flat stomach. “I am with child.”

“So, you are pregnant with my child, are you?” Ivar asked a smile spreading across his face.

“Yes,” Eadwulf said, smiling happily as Ivar ran his hand over her still-flat stomach.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Ivar said as he led her into the shadows of the village before pinning her against a wall of a barn.

Ivar proceeded to kiss her passionately as one hand cupped her breast and the other dug deeply into her hair. He pulled away so they could catch their breath, resting his head against hers.

“Come on,” Ivar said before dragging her into the semi-darkness of the barn.

“Ivar? What are we doing in here? Shouldn’t we go back to the feast?” Eadwulf asked as she looked around the dimly lit structure.

“We will,” he said, settling on one of the bails of hay and pulling her to him. “But first, I want to celebrate the news with you.”

“Shouldn’t we tell your family?” she asked. “I’m sure they want to know!”

“All in due time, my pretty,” he said as he started pulling his pants down.

“We can’t have sex in here,” she protested as he pulled her even closer pulling her dress up so he could move her onto his lap.

“And why not?”

“Because someone could see,” she protested as she wrapped her arms around his neck while his hands rubbed her inner thighs.

“No one will see,” he said, looking around. “It’s darker in here than it is out there. Besides, the slates of the barn are so close no one will see us. I promise. The only ones who will see us are the animals.”

Eadwulf looked around, biting down on her lower lip before nodding and shifting closer to him. “Alright.”

“Good girl,” Ivar said as he kissed her deeply.

One of his hands slipped between them and his thumb circled her clit as his fingers slipped inside of her.

“Oh Ivar,” she breathed as she kissed him, trailing one hand down his chest and grabbing hold of his erection.

Ivar moaned in pleasure and removed his hands as soon as she shuddered against him, her inner walls fluttering around his fingers. He pulled his fingers out and sucked on two of them before pushing the other one into her mouth. Moans escaped their throats as her tongue wrapped around his digit and he watched with hooded eyes as she sucked on him.

The moment he pulled his finger from her mouth she captured his lips with her own. His tongue slid into her mouth as they hurriedly pulled her clothes out of the way so he could penetrate her, causing them both to groan in desire. Ivar started rocking his hips back and forth as he leaned back against the bails of hay.

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

“Good to hear,” Ivar said, brushing her hair from her face before giving her a quick kiss. “Because I love you too.”

They continued to make out as their bodies moved in unison, their voices mingling in pleasure.

“Once you give birth, I am going to get you pregnant again,” Ivar whispered to her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want that. I want to have as many babies as we can.”

Ivar continued to whisper how he couldn’t wait to get her pregnant again against her lips as they rocked back and forth against each other, forgetting all about the revelry that was happening just outside the barn.

***

Ubbe was looking for his youngest brother, intent on telling him something when he heard the soft sound of moans coming from the barn. Curious he made his way to the barn and peeked inside, watching two figures move in the shadows.

“Ivar,” whispered the familiar voice of Eadwulf her voice strained from passion. “Oh, Ivar.”

“My sweet, little Christian,” Ivar’s voice drifted over to him. “Soon. You will swell with my child and I can’t wait to taste how sweet your milk is. Now it’s time for you to milk me.”

Eadwulf gasped in pleasure and eventually, both their voices cried out.

“We should go back and tell everyone about the baby,” Eadwulf’s voice drifted out to Ubbe causing the man to smile before walking away as the sound of more moans drifted from the barn.

Apparently, Ivar disagreed with that statement for the moment.

When they finally emerged from the barn and joined the others at the main table everyone was smiling at them, except Sigurd. 

“What?” Ivar asked in annoyance. 

“I hear you have some news for us,” Aslaug said calmly, trying her best to hide her delight.

“You bastards,” Ivar said teasingly. “Which one of you told?”

“Ivar,” his mother prompted. “You have something to tell us?”

“I do,” Ivar said as he sat down, pulling Eadwulf into his lap and pressing a kiss against her neck. “I am going to be a father.”

“That’s wonderful,” Aslaug said happily. 

The rest of the table was filled with congratulations as Sigurd stormed off in a huff. Ivar smirked at his retreating back and pressed a kiss to Eadwulf’s forehead before reaching for some food. @youbloodymadgenius didn't know if you were still interested in my work but here you go.

[bg3daydream]

I was trying to get a screenshot of the bite moment to use as a header for the fic I'm writing and I find so funny that one side of Ivar’s neck is all free and uncovered yet Astarion has to bite on the side covered by hair. He's going to get a mouthful of hair, Ivar is going to get blood on his hair, it's going to be a mess, Astarion.

[flare-queen]

What happens in the dark behind closed doors.

[gertrud-rl-ll]

Staring down from this hill seeing all the dead men being taken away by valkyries, hearing Thor's hammer hitting his anvil in the distance to now hearing thousands of crow croaking and a man dressed in all black with long ashen hair walking around the dead with a crow on his shoulder and a spear in his hand he points to in the direction of the forest and slowly drags his spear to point to me. "Odin" spoken so quietly that only the wind can carry it, crows swarmed across the ashen haired man for a split second to reveal he is gone, I looked towards the forest to see that in the far distance you can see smoke dancing across the winds." Brother!" I being to walk towards the forest as I hear rollo ask me "what is it?" As he got off the ground he was laying on to than follow me."I believe we have a friend in the forest" I point to the smoke in the sky, rollo was confused till he saw where I was pointing and said"so you want us to go and see who it is it could be more of them at a camp sight it is only us we can not risk it" I was considering his words but something inside me was just telling me that it wasn't more people to kill."I will go without you than if you don't wish to join" I began my track towards the smoke I could hear my brother groan at me before hearing his thumping footsteps, I smirk and chuckled as I shook my head at my brother sounding like a little boy not wanting to do what was asked.it toke us a while to get very close to the smoke it was already turning dark in this now gloomy looking forest I could hear my brother breathing become raged probably from rage as we haven't reach where the smoke begins that or he is hungry, snapping of twigs could be heard as well as goats and geese I stopped my track and turned to rollo and put a finger to my lips and slowly begin to move forward again to see the small cottage and farm and a woman dressed in farming clothes that seemed torn on her shoulder and near her leg exposing her rigid anger looking scar that was definitely new, you could hear her huffing as digs more dirt from the soil. I turned around to speak quietly with rollo only for him to make a wrong step and step on a thick twig what made the loudest snap ever, I looked at rollo with wide eyes and stop breathing the next thing I feel is a graze on my ear and a thud of something embedding itself deep into the the thick trees and got a glimpse of the object it was a ax rollo was shocked to but quickly his face turned red once more and grabbed his own ax and began to run at the woman. I followed his movements still shocked from the ax in the tree but shock it off and ran after rollo grabbing his shoulder and yanking him backwards to putting myself between him and the woman, I put my hand up in front of rollo and said wait and gave him a nod to say to him if anything else happens than you can attack. I turned slowly to the woman and started at her feet and making my gaze up her figure. She was positioned like a shield maiden almost I could easily knock her off her feet but than I saw the blood on front of her clothes that went from the bottom of her dress to the top of her chest I looked and her arms that were raised but this time in her hand was a sword that had blood on it something inside me once again was telling me that she would not kill me. I slowly put both hands up in front of her to show I hold nothing as my eyes finally make it was to her face her eyes were so clear but showed fire in her blueish green eyes you could see the anger but how uncomfortable she was with us being there I spoke slowly to her and say "we won't touch you as long and you don't attack us" she seemed to understand and she slowly put her arms down still holding tight to the sword like a death grip while taking a few steps back to give even more space in case of a surprise attack.

(Just a taste from my Ragnarxocxlagertha book the rest is on Wattpad please tell me if you like and I shall continue)

[milkb0nny]

I would like to request sth 🥰

Could you write one with reader being daughter of a great king and shes married with Ivar and she hears Margrethe talking bad about him and he hears, gets really sad and reader sees just red and gets really mad and Ivar just loves how she is just as tyrannt as him?

I would totally understand if you dont want to write it.

Anyways I hope you have a great day ❤️

Fury Amongst Us

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader

Summary: Despite the forced marriage between you and Ivar, the two of you developed some sort of adoration. Still, you didn’t exchange much words to one another, until that one evening; you could not stand Magrethe talking bad about your husband.

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you will like it! I made Reader a little more tame than Ivar, but still fierce and respectable. I had quite some fun writing this. Have a lovely day anon. <3

Content: established relationship, swearing, arguing, fluff, blood

Word count: ~1400

You prepared yourself for the festivities in the grand hall as your people prepared to celebrate the successes of the recent raids and the goods they had brought back. Each time the warriors returned, your father made the journey to Kattegat for the grand celebrations. He always claimed he came to see you, his daughter, but you knew he was drawn to the infamous vibrance of the town. You loved your father, and you couldn’t complain about seeing him. You had grown accustomed to these occasions, yet tonight was more exciting than the festivities before: it was your first evening in the grand hall as a married woman.

Your marriage to Ivar Ragnarsson, the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, was not born of love but of strategy - a political alliance to unite your families and strengthen ties between your folk. It was an act of power, not passion. Therefore you met with prejudice and discomfort, which vanished quickly. You did not begrudge your fate. The man could have been an ugly, aging warrior; instead, you were married to a man who was young, complex, and intriguing.

You had heard of Ivar's reputation long before meeting him. His anger and cruelty were legendary, and those who spoke of him did so with both fear and awe. Yet in the months since your marriage, you had glimpsed a different side to him, one the world rarely saw. His legs, which many deemed a weakness, were not so to him. His ambitious will and sharp mind more than compensated for any physical limitation. You found this quality admirable, even endearing. But with his strength came a quiet torment. You have experienced his rage, however, it was never turned on you but others. As if he tried to spare you from his ugliness, which you appreciated. He cared somewhat about his wife.

Over the past week, you had tried to overcome the distance between you and Ivar, seeking moments of closeness and tenderness. Yet he remained distant, avoiding your affections not with cruelty but with a quiet humility that suggested he believed himself unworthy of your love. He declined intimate acts, and your efforts to make up for the lack of romance between you. Who would have thought that Ivar the Boneless, the man feared across lands, carried such a burden of self-doubt? You respected his boundaries, offering him space but showing your care in subtle ways. And with each glance, each moment shared in silence, you felt a growing pull in your heart. You watched him, often questioning what thoughts stirred his mind. Was this marriage beginning to blossom into something real? If not, why did you feel those emotions then? You weren’t sure, but you found yourself eager to explore.

As Magrethe and another woman helped you dress, their usual gossip floated around the room. You paid little attention to it, your mind drifting to thoughts of Ivar. Magrethe’s sharp tongue often spilled tea, and though her stories rarely concerned you, today her words felt especially bitter. She rambled on about a couple who had argued loudly the night before, her tone dismissive and mocking.

The room quieted when Ivar appeared in the doorway. His presence was commanding, his piercing blue eyes immediately finding yours. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, but he quickly averted his gaze, moving into the next room where his brothers waited. The door remained slightly open, and you caught him glancing back, as though reluctant to leave the sight of you.

Magrethe noticed your melancholic expression and, despite the envy that often laced her words, she tried to comfort you. "Ivar is not only ruthless in battle but also with the people closest to him," she said, her voice deceptively soft. "You should be careful, my lady. His anger might one day find you, too."

Her words, though spoken with genuine concern, carried a hidden mischief. You replied calmly, your tone steady.

"I appreciate your concern, Magrethe, but I am his wife, not the cause of his fury."

Your chest tightened at her cruel words, but you remained composed. Through the mirror, you saw Ivar just beyond the door, his head bowed as if trying to shrink away. His brothers’ laughter did little to drown out the sting of Magrethe’s remarks, and you knew he had heard every word. His eyes reflected the self hatred and disgust he owned for himself, and that alone hurt you.

"But haven’t you noticed?" she pressed, her voice growing sharper. "He cares only for power and pays no mind to the cost of his ambitions. He would hurt anyone to achieve importance. Yet, no matter how much power he has, he will always remain a cripple - a man who must rely on others to carry him."

With curiosity, you encouraged her to continue. "Go on," you said calmly.

Though the fire in your heart burned hotter with every passing moment. You set a trap for her to step in, and so she did.

Magrethe leaned closer, her tone dripping with mean words. "I pity you, my lady, being tied to such a man. The worst of it is that Ivar doesn’t love anyone… not even himself. He pushes everyone away. That’s why he’ll always be alone, no matter how powerful he becomes."

Her words were the final spark. Fury surged within you, and you turned to face her, your gaze cold and unyielding. Through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Ivar, his shoulders stiff, bracing for what he assumed would be your agreement with Magrethe’s cruel assessment. He clearly expected you to complain and cry. But what came next was far from what anyone expected.

Without warning, your hand struck Magrethe’s cheek with a sharp small object, the force sending her stumbling backward and falling to ground. Blood welled from a thin cut where your hidden blade had grazed her pure skin. Her shocked whimpers filled the room as she clutched her face.

Ubbe burst into the room, his expression one of alarm. Before he could speak, you turned to him, your voice cutting through the tension like steel.

"You allow such insolence to fester in your household, Ubbe? This woman insults your brother and dares to do so in my presence."

Magrethe sobbed before you, her arrogance shattered. Kneeling, you grasped her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze.

"You speak of my husband as though you understand him, but you know nothing of his strength, his pain. You, Magrethe, are nothing more than a jealous, envious snake, slithering beneath the feet of those greater than you." You continued to torment her, not letting that behavior go. „How can you speak of self esteem when you’re reeking of jealousy? How can you act as if you’re above him?“

Your voice softened, but each word carried the weight of your fury.

"If Ivar is broken, then I will carry him. If the world taunts him, I will silence it. And if you or anyone else dares to challenge him, I will make the gods themselves regret it. The world will burn in flames, and I will cause it if someone dares to question us, our marriage or our love."

As you stepped into the hall, the cool air brushing against your flushed skin, you found Ivar waiting. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of awe and longing. For the first time, he reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm.

The room was silent, only for Magrethe’s soft sobs. Even Ubbe was speechless, his gaze flicking between you and the trembling woman at your feet. You rose, your movements deliberate and commanding, and turned to Ubbe.

"Teach her to learn her place. If I hear another insult, I will not stop at a scar."

"You didn’t have to do that," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

For the first time, Ivar allowed himself to believe that perhaps he was worthy of such love. The anger he owned, he burdened himself with, now was shared with you.

Meeting his gaze, you replied with quiet intensity.

"I would do it again, Ivar. You are my husband, and I will not let anyone, not even you, think you are less than what you are."

[lisinfleur]

MASTERLIST - Vikings Content

Once this blog was entirely turned to the Series Vikings. Now that we're opening new themes, this post is a way for you who liked my Vikings Content to keep track of my old works so you can come back in time and enjoy them one more time!

This masterlist will have content related to:

The series Vikings and its characters.

Series and side works made by Vikings Cast

Original characters in the series' universe - on demand

⁑ Anything with more than 2 chapters.

WIPs:

No WIP at the moment.

Finished:

Universe | Crossover Kriger x A Bond Between People

Et Bånd Mellem Krigere Pairing | Mads x Joy, Adrian x Reader Info | Fix It AU, crossover Kriger x A Bond Between People. ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, heavy ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, drugs, death. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Universe | Vikings

Curse Pairing | No pair Info | Viking Age AU, Fantasy AU ⁑ Warnings: Horror, heavy ANGST, cursing, fictional creatures, mentions of death, mutilation, black magic, murder, major character deaths, blood, and violence. +18

Face the Music Pairing | Hvitserk x Plus Size! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, Requested by @thiahilmarsdottir​⁑Warnings: ANGST, romance. Mentions of fat-shaming, betrayal. Erotic content.

For the Sake of All Pairing | Sigurd x Blaeja Info | Viking Age AU, multiple shots related to one another ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, Fluffy, romance, +18

His... His Only Pairing | Alfred x Reader x Ivar Info | Viking Age AU, multiple drabbles related to one another ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, ANGST, romance, mentions of death, burning, betrayal, and some cursing. +18

Lady of the Lake Pairing | Sigurd x OC Info | Viking Age AU, Fantasy AU ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, romance, fantasy creatures, some cursing, mentions of death, blood, violence, and some horror. +18 

Mishaps Pairing | Hvitserk x OC/Reader Info | Modern AU, Dark AU, Mobster AU, Criminal Vikings AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, kidnapping, betrayal, 18+

Payback Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Modern AU, Mobster AU, Criminal Vikings AU, Dark AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, ANGST, cursing, mentions of murder, rape, death, violence, abuse, drugs, and torture. +18. Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Rangsælis Pairing | Ubbe x Wife! Reader Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, heavy ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, rape, violence against women, heathenry, death. 18+ Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.  

Ravished Pairing | Ubbe x Reader Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, heavy ANGST, cursing, mentions of death, murder, violence, dirty talk, torture, rape, women humiliation, and violence against women. +18. Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.

The Wolf, The Dog, and The Maiden Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, heavy ANGST, cursing, mentions of major character’s death, underage death, murder, and violence. +18. Caution recommended: the following content may be triggering.

Through & Through Pairing | Ivar x OC Info | Viking Age AU ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, heavy ANGST, SMUT included, cursing, mentions of murder, blood, violence, crimes, torture, slavery, death. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

When You Weren’t Here to See Pairing | Sigurd x Siggy Björnsðóttir Info | Viking Age AU, requested by multiple anons ⁑Warnings: Mentions of child abandonment and sensitive themes, incestuous relationship (uncle x niece), SMUT, familiar conflicts.

Wrong Choices Pairing | Sigurd x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, Werewolves AU, Alpha x Beta x Omega Dynamics ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, ANGST, Fluffy, romance, mentions of violence, blood, wounds, and cursing. +18

⁑ Little texts, scenes, and little fics with 1 or 2 chapters.

WIPs:

No WIP at the moment.

Finished:

Universe | Cast 

Marco Ilsø

Universe | Vikings

» Ragnarssons Team

Björn Ragnarsson

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Sigurd Ragnarsson

Ivar Ragnarsson

Neutral Shots

» Viking Team

Ragnar Lothbrok

Harald Finehair

Other Vikings

» Saxon Team

Alfred, the Great

Other Saxons

⁑ Masterlists for the general events of this blog: ¹For the events focused on a single character, please check the character’s personal masterlist!

2019 Holiday Event - From: Us, To: You, With Love Universe | Vikings Cooperative event with @honestsycrets​ 

Take a look at the links below and enjoy!

Ragnarssons In - Archive Part I and Part II All Ragnarssons reactions headcanons already published

Headcanons Archive - Vikings Content All Headcanons already published for Vikings

Plot List - Vikings Content List of ideas and plot starters for you guys Please, credit if use!

NSFW Prompt Challenge All drabbles published for Vikings in this kind of challenge.

Drabble Challenge All drabbles published for Vikings in this kind of challenge.

Valhalla Panel Scenes The Ragnar’s Sons went to Valhalla together and they’re now around the same table, drinking, feasting, fighting, and answering whatever you want to know!

» Followers Celebrations (Vikings content):

600 Followers Celebration Drabbles  

700 Followers Celebration Drabbles

1000 Followers Celebration Drabbles

2000 Followers Celebration Drabbles

[keoni-chan]

Oh my gosh, Ivar and his train wreck of a love life y'all. You'd think he's a Romance sim, but you'd be wrong.

Technically Ivar failed his ROS, but he really fucked me over by kissing Zoey, so that sort of counts (?)

Oh well, we need a successor for Benjamin Weekes once he kicks the bucket.

I seriously have no idea who Ivar should end up with, and I don't think he knows either. So it time for a poll!

Next up: Cas and Parker!

[a-firsthand-murder-ballad]

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

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

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

The silence was unmistakable. Loud. Overwhelming.

There was no joy to be found in it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Demo

Tag Directory [TBA]

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come. 

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods. 

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives. 

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance. 

And Ivar relished every moment. 

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated. 

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them. 

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives. 

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come. 

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act. 

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him. 

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come. 

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted. 

Fucking pathetic. 

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer. 

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it. 

"Wake him up." 

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man. 

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now. 

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement. 

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief. 

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?” 

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case. 

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue. 

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination. 

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane. 

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.” 

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white. 

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her. 

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain. 

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off. 

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover. 

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side. 

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–” 

Another smack reverberated in the air. 

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out. 

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse. 

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!” 

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill. 

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands. 

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha. 

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.  

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing. 

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.  

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise. 

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs. 

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of. 

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still. 

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin. 

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?” 

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now. 

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.” 

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic. 

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face. 

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed. 

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high. 

“You live!” 

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence. 

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?” 

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim. 

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them. 

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real. 

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm. 

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest. 

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side. 

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out. 

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name. 

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water. 

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket. 

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn. 

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?” 

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number. 

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief. 

Someone was calling him about Kari. 

As an emergency contact. 

From a hospital. 

Where she is a patient. 

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him. 

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him. 

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying. 

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her. 

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting. 

He had promised. 

And he failed. 

Again. 

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again. 

“Yes.” He croaked out. 

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call. 

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?  

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic. 

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed. 

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror. 

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.” 

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option. 

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes. 

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her. 

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass. 

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel. 

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort. 

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind. 

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on. 

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[ealdormanink]

Can you write one with Ivar? ❤️

Reader is daughter of King Harald and shes friends and in love with Ivar and she has to marry one of the Ragnarssons and they all want her and she ofc chooses Ivar and he cant believe it.

Written in the Stars

Ivar the boneless x female reader!

A/N: thank you for this request! I hope you like it!!

King Harald's fleet's sails cast long shadows over Kattegat's iron-grey waters. Y/N's fingers traced the wooden railing of her father's ship, her eyes fixed on the approaching shoreline. The familiar silhouettes of the great hall and the busy docks stirred memories that made her heart flutter against her ribs.

The salty breeze carried whispers of past winters spent poring over maps by candlelight, of shared laughter echoing through empty halls when everyone else had retired, of piercing blue eyes that saw her - truly saw her - for who she was.

"The winds have favored us." Harald's voice broke through the symphony of creaking wood and splashing waves. Y/N's fingers stilled on the railing, though she couldn't quite suppress the way her lips curved upward.

Through the morning mist, familiar figures emerged on the docks. There, among his brothers, sat Ivar in his chariot. Even from this distance, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Their eyes met across the narrowing stretch of water, and five years of friendship hung in the space between them.

The ship's bow cut through the last few meters of fjord. As they docked, Ubbe's voice carried across the harbor, "Welcome to Kattegat, King Harald." His eyes lingered on Y/N, calculating and considering in a way that made her spine stiffen.

Hvitserk stepped forward, extending his hand to help her onto the dock. "Princess Y/N." His smile was warm, practiced. "The gods have blessed us with your return."

The wooden planks creaked under her boots as she accepted his assistance, but her attention was drawn to the subtle shift in Ivar's posture, the way his knuckles whitened around the edge of his chariot.

"The journey must have been tiring." Ivar's voice cut through the pleasantries like a blade through silk. His eyes hadn't left her face since she'd first appeared on deck. "Perhaps the princess would prefer to rest before tonight's festivities."

"Always so concerned, brother." Sigurd's words dripped with mockery. "Or perhaps you're simply eager to monopolize her time, as usual?"

Y/N's fingers unconsciously found the silver pendant at her throat - a gift from Ivar, carved with runes they'd deciphered together during one of their many late-night conversations. Those nights when they'd abandon the noise of the great hall, finding solace in ancient sagas and battle strategies that only they seemed to understand.

The great hall buzzed with activity as servants prepared for the evening's feast. Y/N's chambers overlooked the main square, where memories lingered in every corner. Her fingers traced the windowsill where, years ago, she'd first found Ivar alone, poring over his father's old maps.

"Your form is wrong." The echo of her younger self's voice played in her mind. She'd corrected his interpretation of the English coastline that day, earning not his usual sharp retort, but a look of genuine surprise. That was the first time he'd smiled at her - really smiled.

A knock at the door pulled her from the memory. Astrid, one of the servants, entered with fresh water.

"The sons of Ragnar are asking after you, Princess." Astrid's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "All of them."

The weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Everyone knew why Harald had brought his daughter to Kattegat this time. Alliances needed to be strengthened, and marriage was the surest way.

Y/N's feet carried her to the courtyard, where she found Ubbe first. He stood tall, every inch the eldest brother, watching the training grounds with calculated interest.

"You've grown more beautiful since we last met." His voice was diplomatic, measured. He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the political ambition in his eyes. "A union between us would bring great strength to both our people."

Before she could respond, Hvitserk appeared, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Brother, you sound like you're negotiating a trade deal." His easy smile didn't quite mask the hunger in his gaze. "Our princess deserves poetry, not politics."

Y/N's eyes drifted past them both, landing on the familiar figure by the weapons rack. Ivar sat cleaning his axe - the same one she'd helped him choose three winters ago. His movements were precise, following the pattern she'd shown him: three strokes down, one across, just as her mother had taught her.

"Still pining after the cripple?" Sigurd's voice slithered from behind her. "You could have any of us, yet you waste your time with him."

The familiar surge of protective anger rose in her chest, but before she could speak, Ivar's axe embedded itself in the post beside Sigurd's head.

"Your aim is improving," Y/N said, the words falling naturally from her lips, an old joke between them. "Though you're still pulling slightly to the left."

"Perhaps I need another lesson." Ivar's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were back in that first winter, when she'd spent hours helping him adjust his throwing technique, never once mentioning his legs, focusing only on his strength.

The feast hall glowed with firelight, casting dancing shadows across faces both familiar and strange. Y/N sat at the high table, her father's words still ringing in her ears: "You must choose one of Ragnar's sons before the next full moon."

Her eyes drifted across the hall, watching the brothers in turn. Ubbe stood among the warriors, every gesture calculated to display his leadership. Hvitserk charmed a group of shield-maidens, though his gaze kept finding its way back to her. Sigurd strummed his oud, his song carrying notes of barely concealed mockery.

And Ivar... Ivar sat in his usual corner, away from the crowds, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. The same spot where they'd spent countless evenings discussing everything from battle tactics to the gods themselves.

"Do you remember," his voice caught her off guard as she approached his table, drawn to him as always, "the night you taught me about the stars?"

How could she forget? They'd stayed up until dawn, her finger pointing out constellations while he told her the stories behind each one. She'd never told him that she'd already known them all - she'd just wanted to hear his voice, to see the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of the gods.

"You were a terrible student," she teased, sliding onto the bench beside him. The familiar scent of leather and metal wrapped around her like an old blanket. "You kept making up new constellations."

"And you kept believing them." His smile, rare and genuine, made her heart stutter. "Until you realized I was describing shapes that looked like Sigurd falling off a horse."

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with years of shared moments and unspoken words. Around them, the feast continued, but they existed in their own world, just as they always had.

"They're all watching you," Ivar said finally, his voice tight. "My brothers. They all want you."

"Let them watch." Her fingers found the edge of the table, inches from his. "They don't see me the way you do."

"And how do I see you?" His question came out barely above a whisper, vulnerable in a way only she was allowed to witness.

"Like I'm more than just Harald's daughter. Like I'm..." She paused, remembering all the times he'd challenged her mind, valued her opinions, trusted her judgment. "Like I'm me."

The firelight caught the silver of his arm ring - the one she'd helped him forge two summers ago, their fingers working the metal together as she'd steadied his hand.

The moment of choice arrived with the rising moon. The great hall fell silent as Y/N stood before the assembled crowd, her father's expectant gaze heavy upon her shoulders. Four brothers stood before her, four possible futures stretched out like paths in the darkness.

Ubbe stepped forward first, ever the diplomat. "Choose wisely, Princess. The future of our peoples rests upon this decision." His words echoed against the wooden walls, practiced and perfect.

Hvitserk offered her a playful wink. "Choose with your heart, not your head." His charm sparkled like sunlight on water, beautiful but fleeting.

Sigurd simply smirked, his fingers still wrapped around his oud. "Though some choices," his eyes flickered to Ivar, "might be less... conventional than others."

And Ivar... Ivar remained still, his eyes fixed on the ground. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped his crutch - a gesture she'd learned meant he was preparing himself for disappointment.

Y/N's feet carried her forward, past Ubbe's calculated smile, past Hvitserk's outstretched hand, past Sigurd's mocking gaze. She stopped before Ivar, close enough to see the subtle tremor in his hands.

"I choose Ivar Ragnarsson," her voice rang clear through the hall. "I choose the man who saw me as an equal before he saw me as a princess."

Ivar's head snapped up, disbelief warring with hope in his ice-blue eyes. "You can't," he whispered, for her ears alone. "You deserve someone who can-"

"I deserve someone who challenges my mind," she cut him off, her hand finding his cheek. "Someone who values my thoughts as much as my title. Someone who taught me to read the stars, even while making up constellations to make me laugh."

The hall erupted in murmurs, but Y/N heard only the sharp intake of Ivar's breath. His free hand found hers, trembling slightly.

"You've always been my choice," she continued, soft enough that only he could hear. "Since that first day when you argued with me about the English coastline. Since every night we spent planning battles and reading sagas. Since every moment you saw me for who I am, not who I was born to be."

"But I'm-" he started.

"You're Ivar," she said simply. "My Ivar. The only one who's ever matched me, challenged me, understood me. The only one I could ever choose."

Slowly, like dawn breaking over the horizon, a smile spread across Ivar's face - not his usual smirk, but the real smile she'd come to treasure. His fingers tightened around hers, and in that moment, they were back in every shared laugh, every quiet conversation, every silent understanding that had led them here.

"The gods themselves couldn't have given me a greater gift," he whispered, and Y/N saw in his eyes the same truth she'd known all along - that some choices are made long before they're spoken aloud, written in the stars they'd watched together all those nights ago.

[ladynightshade30]

Updates

So, I am a little over halfway done with my first round of edits for Ramon and Isolda. Hopefully, I can finish this round of edits by the end of next week. Then I am going to move on to the next round. Goodie!

Hopefully, I will have it ready for Beta readers by September and an official publishing release next year. I am still working on Chrysalis and Whips my BDSM, slow burn romance. Another story idea I have is called Lemon Seas and is a Little Mermaid retelling featuring Mersharks and Merorcas instead of the traditional mermaids/mermen.

I still have ideas for Ivar/Eadwulf, which I hope to start working on again as soon as things settle down in regards to Ramon and Isolda.

Ivar/Eadwulf stories being worked on Stone by Stone - Ivar and Eadwulf are in an arranged marriage but perfection is a good deal off and they must build their love stone by stone. My Heart's Lighter Soul - Ivar and Eadwulf are soul mates. I really don't have much of an idea on where to go with it other than that. King Takes Queen - While the Great Heathen Army savages the land Ivar falls for the captive Princess Eadwulf, the younger sister of Biship Heahmund.

[anderstrevelyan]

Hello, can I introduce you to my veilguard OCs?

Ivar Thorne (née Blackthorne)

(Warden, rogue, I think he'll romance Emmrich)

He doesn't remember the details of his father's ruthless push for power: just how you were supposed to ignore strange sounds at night, or new bones in the crypts. Not ask questions when an older cousin disappears. But he does remember the night the Veil wore too thin: demons and chaos and death, and a young boy's instinct to grab his baby sister and run.

By the time he reaches the city, rumours festering, talk of all the Blackthornes dead, he drops the first part of his surname. He leaves his sister near Compassion spirits in the Grand Necropolis, terrified to tell anyone who he is. He seeks refuge in the Chantry, terrified to tell anyone what he's done.

When he's old enough to set out on his own, he journeys to Amaranthine—to see the Chantry where Andraste first spread the Chant, he'd tell you, but it's conveniently away from Nevarra, too. Eventually recruited by the Wardens there, he learns to fight from Sigrun and Nathaniel Howe, and volunteers for experiments with Warden-Commander Garrett Amell and the mysterious mage Avernus about whether non-mage Wardens can pick up some basics of blood magic. He suspects the latter is why Weisshaupt reassigns him to report there, but he stays in touch with Amell, who introduces him to Varric.

He never stops regretting abandoning his sister, and he regrets more each year his reluctance to write to the Necropolis to try to learn of her fate—so it's a relief and a joy when she joins the team along with their new Fade expert.

(Too shy at first to broach discussing the details with his sister, he finds himself spending time with said Fade expert to ask questions about his own upbringing as an orphan in the place, until he finds more reasons to keep coming back.)

Vita Ingellvar (née Juliana Blackthorne)

(Mourn Watcher, warrior, romances Neve)

Found in a crypt by a Mourn Watcher taking an extra lap in their rounds—the wisps seemed especially active that day—Vita is embraced and adopted by the Mortalitasi. Raised by mages, named for Vitus Fabria (the founder of the Mortalitasi), and often more comfortable with spirits and the undead than other children, she was certain she'd grow up to become a mage, and dreamed of the day her ability would manifest.

It never did, but her determination and affinity with spirits led to her being invited to join the Mourn Watch as soon as she was of age.

She did most of her work alongside a spirit of Valor, whose purpose she admired, but kept finding friction in the Necropolis's focus on appeasing those of lauded lineage, especially as someone with no knowledge of her own roots. She fumed so much that Valor felt it, too, forbidden from bravely standing up to wayward noble undead, and twisted against his purpose into something malign. Inflexibility, Recklessness, Idealism: she's not sure what she'd call what the spirit became, but she was devastated when he had to be destroyed by the Watch.

Devastated, but determined to finish their work and stop the nobles' uprising no matter the cost—she only regrets that she didn't disobey sooner.

The Watch encourages her to leave alongside Prof. Volkarin, and she's startled to see so much of herself in this group's leader's face. For the first time, she's curious about piecing together who she was and could have been. (And about the beautiful detective all the wisps seem enamoured with, too.)

[bg3daydream]

My Tavs: Astarion romance

Ivy, a tiefling druid, raised in a grove as an orphaned baby. She's a resist dark-urge with the sweetest face. Fell very much in love with Astarion and his constand support about her past and troubles.

Ivar, a half-drow fighter who'd a crush on Shadowheart before falling for Astarion...they tease each other but do love each other, very much. He's a sweetheart. People in his village weren't great to him since he's a half-drow and so since he was a kid he trained to be a fighter and as a teen, he left his home to be an adventure and hired fighter here and there.

Balok, a drow and a beast of a monk/fighter who's also a dark urge, with no recolection of his past besides the feeling of his fists breaking bone and the taste of blood in his mouth. He's rough and hot tempered but somehow Astarion and him made each other better.

Sasha, a dwarf paladin of vengeance who loves both Astarion and Halsin. Gods didn't help her nor granted her revenge, so she swore her own oath of vengeance...and then she swore another, to make Cazador pay for all he did and help Astarion get his revenge on him. So, before I had the game, in Christmas I was at my mother's house watching character creation videos and my mother walked behind me while they were showing the dwarf faces, and she saw a dwarf similar to Sasha and went "Oh wow she looks just like you!" and so, once I got the game, I had to create Sasha.

[flare-queen]

Smear my lipstick across my face

Wipe off all these lies for me, my love

Tell me what you see

Kiss my wrist

You're killing me

You're my pill

You're everything I need...

I'm running circles around you

Your skin is under my nails

I don't belong here without you...