#ivar the boneless romance

[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

[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.

[flare-queen]

What happens in the dark behind closed doors.

[katfett]

Ivar, Nora and Hvitserk in The Little Valkyrie

[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)

[vikingstoriesblog]

Vikings writing

who i write for

Ivar the boneless

Ragnar Lothbrok

Bjorn Ironside

Harald Finehair

Halfdan Black

Hvitserk the berserker

Rollo Lothbrok

Helga

Floki

Lagertha

Aslaug

King Ecbert

what i write

Romance

Angst

Dark

Fluff

Comedy

[freddie-foxs]

My Mother's People

TLK Fic Masterlist || Main Masterlist

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

Series: Of Irland, More to come!!

Characters: Stiorra, Drifa, Finan, Uhtred, Asgard, Sihtric, Hæfnir, Jomar,Sigbjorn, Ingemar, Osferth, Thora, Frida, Mœid, Ivar, Rognvaldr, Hrok, Sigtryggr, Gudrid, Aldis, Stein, Swein, Arlo, Sigurd, Torgärd, Jezekel, Asfrid, Brígh, Faolán, Anlaf, Agapios, Conall, Eanna, Niall, Naos, Guðrøðr, Tofi, Kori, Erik, Aisling, Anlaf Guthfrithson, Orm, Skoll, Ingilmundr Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Language, Minor Character Death, Drunkenness, Hangover, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Nudity, Insults, Slow Burn, Permanent Injury, Medicinal Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 2 \\ Chapter 3 \\ Chapter 4 \\ Chapter 5 \\ Chapter 6 \\ Chapter 7 \\ Chapter 8 \\ Chapter 9 \\ Chapter 10 \\ Chapter 11 \\ Chapter 12 \\ Chapter 13 \\ Chapter 14 \\ Chapter 15 \\ Chapter 16 \\ Chapter 17 \\ Chapter 18 \\ Chapter 19 \\ Chapter 20 \\ Chapter 21 \\ Chapter 22 \\ Chapter 23 \\ Chapter 24 \\ Chapter 25 \\ Chapter 26 coming soon...

[viking-chaos]

My Mother's People

TLK Fic Masterlist || Main Masterlist

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

Series: Of Irland, More to come!!

Characters: Stiorra, Drifa, Finan, Uhtred, Asgard, Sihtric, Hæfnir, Jomar,Sigbjorn, Ingemar, Osferth, Thora, Frida, Mœid, Ivar, Rognvaldr, Hrok, Sigtryggr, Gudrid, Aldis, Stein, Swein, Arlo, Sigurd, Torgärd, Jezekel, Asfrid, Brígh, Faolán, Anlaf, Agapios, Conall, Eanna, Niall, Naos, Guðrøðr, Tofi, Kori, Erik, Aisling, Anlaf Guthfrithson, Orm, Skoll, Ingilmundr Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Language, Minor Character Death, Drunkenness, Hangover, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Nudity, Insults, Slow Burn, Permanent Injury, Medicinal Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 2 \\ Chapter 3 \\ Chapter 4 \\ Chapter 5 \\ Chapter 6 \\ Chapter 7 \\ Chapter 8 \\ Chapter 9 \\ Chapter 10 \\ Chapter 11 \\ Chapter 12 \\ Chapter 13 \\ Chapter 14 \\ Chapter 15 \\ Chapter 16 \\ Chapter 17 \\ Chapter 18 \\ Chapter 19 \\ Chapter 20 \\ Chapter 21 \\ Chapter 22 \\ Chapter 23 \\ Chapter 24 \\ Chapter 25 \\ Chapter 26 coming soon!!

[pleinsdemuses]

get to know the mun!

What’s your phone wallpaper: My cat

last song you listened to: RunRunRun by Dutch Melrose

currently reading: About to start Haunting Adeline

craving: all the ships, French fries, sleep

what are you wearing right now: a black North Face sweat and black jeans

how tall are you?: 172cm

piercings/tattoos ?: ear piercings (regular one) and a tattoo on my shoulder blade

glasses? contacts?: Both

last thing you ate?: Bread lol

favorite color(s): blue

current obsession: Dark romance, Pedro Pascal (because yes), Dutch Melrose, a few of my ships... 😍

any pets: a cat and a horse

do you have a crush right now?: yep, my man

favorite fictional character: so many! Haha Bucky Barnes, Sinthea Schmidt, Frank Castle, John Wick, Lagertha Lothbrok, Ivar The Boneless, Rollo of Normandy, Rebekah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson, Joel Miller, Soldier Boy, Castiel, Aleksander Morozova, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Rhysand, Cassian, Sirius Black and the list goes on haha

last place you traveled: Ionian Coast, South Italy.

tagged by: @detnu-a-h (Thank youuuu 😍)

tagging: @skyler-bane @scarsmasked @grimmusings @luposcainus @scnnersandsaints @bcrntortured @thewxnderer anyone else who sees this! Do it and tag me!

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 17

I'm back! I'm so sorry its taken me months to update. Life took a turn for the busy. During this time I've had people ask and I promise I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, even if it takes me months to update. I'm enjoying this story too much, and I hope you are too.

Also this chapter was a tough one to write. So I suggest you buckle up your seatbelts because the angst train is here since its Ivar's POV! Hopefully the length also makes up for the wait!

min skatt– my treasure

Words: 9400

Warnings: language, implied drug use, mild sexual content, brief mentions of violence, Ivar doesn't handle feelings well

Series Masterlist

Ivar fucked up. 

He knew it. His family knew it. Hell, it might as well be broadcasted on global news at this point. 

He had fucked up. 

Severely. 

That thick, tar-like feeling of betrayal had coated his nerve endings, dulled his mind and made his black heart stone-cold. The sensation of betrayal was not unusual, but he hated it. With every cell of his body, he loathed it. Anger was an escape, a way to get out of the suffocating void that betrayal tried to drown him in. So he latched onto the familiar burn of anger, a welcomed friend by this point in his life. 

But when the fire burned out, when he could see past the comforting haze of red…it was to the sight of fear in Kari's blue-green eyes and tears running down her cheeks. 

Immediately, he knew he fucked up in the worst way possible. And when she ran from him, he could not blame her. Even if every step she took away from him was a knife repeatedly to the gut. But her expressive eyes, they told him how badly he had messed up. She had dealt with plenty of his shit but this…this was the line crossed. He could not even get mad at her for it, for self-loathing had wrapped its tentacles around him and squeezed. 

He had lost her. His gift from the gods. His kitten. 

His Kari. 

He vaguely remembered screaming and demanding his brothers and Floki release him. Could barely recall landing a solid punch to Sigurd that busted his knuckles and broke his brother's nose. Somehow he ended up on the floor whimpering her name with cold tears slipping from his eyes as Floki kept his arms wrapped around him, either to keep him restrained or to comfort, Ivar was unsure. But it did not matter. 

In a single moment, he knew he had lost her. 

And it was his own fucking fault. 

When Ragnar returned later, Ivar could barely get words to come out, his tongue felt heavy and his stomach full of stones. His father had taken one look at him and sighed. 

"Leave her alone. I told her you'd stay away. Don't make me fucking put security on you to keep away from her. She's got enough shit to deal with now."

Ivar nodded silently. Promising himself he would. 

But the next day he broke that promise. 

It was an all-consuming need to see her, to check on her, to make sure she did not despise him as much as he did himself. He tried to sneak away, however idiotic that was. A crippled bastard trying to sneak out of the house, where every footfall was as loud as a gong. Standing at the door, phone in hand to call a driver, Floki had found him. He took one look at the child of his heart and told him to get into his car. That he would drive him, but only this once. 

Ivar was unsure what he had expected when choosing to visit Kari. Hell, he was not even sure she would be home. All he knew was at some point during the night, while he laid awake on his bed, sleep evading him like a mocking ghost, he knew he had to see her. Fuck what Ragnar said. 

When she walked away, she had taken part of his heart with her. Whoever cliché that sounded, and he would never admit it aloud. Yet that was how it felt. And now he needed to know if he would ever get that blackened, bleeding organ back from her delicate, gentle hands. 

In his mind, the best case scenario of his unexpected arrival would involve her running into his arms, him reassuring her he never meant to hurt her, immediately followed by hot make-up sex that lasted for hours. 

The worst case scenario? He would walk in the door and she would shoot him. No…he would walk in the door and she would coldly tell him she never wanted to see him again, that whatever they had was over and how much she hated him. He would gladly take being shot instead of hearing her say anything like that. 

What he walked in on- seeing her curled up on the couch, with red-rimmed eyes and tear stains on her cheeks- that felt like someone took a whip at what remained of his heart and attempted to shred it. 

When he happened to notice the faintest discoloration along her jawline…the lashings began in earnest. 

Then her words, her hesitation. It all tore at him. 

"I need time, Ivar."

Another lashing of the whip. 

But he absorbed the pain, welcomed it because he deserved every stroke. What he did was unforgivable, but somehow he hoped she would. 

Gods, he hoped she could forgive him. 

He did not linger, feeling his concrete reinforced composure cracking under the weight of his self-loathing and turmoil. 

Thankfully, Floki never said a word when Ivar reentered the car. Nor did he question when Ivar put in a food order to be delivered to Kari. 

Afterwards, the entire drive was silent. 

Back at the house, he could feel Floki's shrewd gaze on him but he ignored it. He only spared his brothers a glance before retreating to his room. To the isolation and darkness there. To where he could cry without anyone seeing. 

At some point that despair morphed into anger and before he realized it, he found himself in the home gym. He had no recollection of walking out of his room and to the gym. But in the moment, it did not matter. All he cared about was ruthlessly pounding on the punching bag. 

All of his self-loathing. All of his anger directed at himself, at his family, at the whole fucking world. All of his pain and despair. All for it he poured into his punches. Each slam of his fist on the fabric drained a little more from the reservoir overflowing inside of him. 

When his bones broke under the onslaught, he never relented. 

As blood splattered the bag, the floor and himself, he persevered. 

His whole vision had tunneled into needing to feel the pain, into pouring out his frustration. He breathed in the pain and let it wash over him. 

He was not one for going to church, none of the Lothbroks were. But this. Each punch. Each sharp stab of pain. Each coating of blood flying from his own body. It all felt like a penance. It was no Hail Mary or Our Father. But this was even more raw, more real for Ivar. 

For he knew blood. He knew pain. 

What better way to atone for his sins than to punish himself with both?

He was unsure how long he slaved away at his personal penance until they found him. 

Ubbe and Hvitserk pinned him to the floor. His blood stained their hands. His heart and lungs were in overdrive yet his mind was blissfully silent. He could vaguely hear Floki say something about a broken hand and they needed to take him to the hospital. 

The rest of the night was spent with nurses and doctors, x-rays and a black cast on his hand and forearm. The sterile smell of the hospital burned his nose. The grating voices of the hospital staff asking questions and reading his extensive records irritated him. 

But he kept silent. 

All he could hope for, all he could pray for, was his atonement could somehow make up for his sins. That his blood shed could replace the pain he caused. 

That his offering would be enough.

*****

The following day he spent in solitude. No matter how many times someone knocked on his door, he never answered. The one time Hvitserk tried to stick his head in, Ivar threw a drinking glass at him. Immediately after, Ivar cursed himself for the now shattered glass on the carpet. He knew he was acting pitiful yet he could not seem to rise above the deep well of depression and its thick cords wrapped around his body, dragging him further into its dark depths. 

The only person he willingly chose to answer was his mother, but that was more out of self-preservation when she continuously called him for three minutes straight without stopping. The conversation had been brief and then he returned to watching TV while laying on his bed, trying his hardest to ignore the cast on his right hand and forearm and how much it fucking sucked to deal with. 

At some point during the day, he had tossed his phone across the room, uncaring whether it broke or not. The temptation, the need, to text Kari, to call her, to profusely apologize and beg for her forgiveness was too much. She said she needed time. So he was going to damn well give it to her. 

Fuck, if he could just forget it all for a while. Instead of drowning in thoughts of her. Of his self-loathing. Of how he always fucked up the best things in his life. 

The next day an idea came to mind, a way to find a temporary reprieve from the swirling vultures of his thoughts. 

He just needed his brother's help.

*****

Ivar and Hvitserk settled back onto the couches, the short table in front of them already with beers waiting for their pleasure. The loud thumping from the bass of the club's speakers could be felt in Ivar's chest. The shrill cries of the inebriation mixed with excitement filled the air as much as the music. 

He pointedly ignored the fact, this was the very place he first met Kari and became consumed by her. 

Ivar's fierce blue eyes scanned the crowd from his advantageous position about the main floor. For a Sunday night, the dance floor was packed and the line along the bar was full. He wondered if there was a special event or celebration causing it to be busier than normal. Not that he truly cared. The more people the better for his plan. 

"So why are we here, Ivar?" 

He looked over at his flaxen-haired brother. "I needed to get out."

"Yeah? Well I'm personally shocked this is the place you'd choose." Hvitserk waved to someone walking by that called his name but swiftly returned his attention to his younger brother. "So why are we here?"

"I told you–"

"And I'm calling bullshit, Ivar."

Ivar scoffed, taking a long draw of the beer in front of him. Only after initially reaching for the beer with his right hand and belatedly remembering it was in a cast before grabbing it with his left. It was a miracle he had not needed surgery for all the broken bones in his hand and wrist. The dumbass that he was, he had not even thought to wrap his hands before pummeling the punching bag. But what was another surgery to him? What was more broken bones to his crippled body? Physical pain was his closest companion. But this constant ache in his heart, this roiling torment, it was more than he could bear. 

Hvitserk sighed. "I know you're hurting– don't give me that look, asshole– it's obvious to everyone with eyes. Look, if you wanted to just get drunk, we could have done that at home. So why are we here? Do you need a distraction? Someone to suck your cock? Is that why we're here?"

Ivar leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, mirroring his brother's pose. "I need something to get me out of my fucked up mind for a while."

"Okay…I'll go order a bottle of–"

"No," Ivar interrupted, "I need something else. I need the good stuff, Hvits."

Hvitserk blinked for a moment before immediately shaking his head and leaning back, as if distancing himself emphasized his refusal. "Ivar, no."

Ivar waited a second before continuing. "You know who has the best quality, who doesn't fuck around."

"Ivar….I don't do that anymore–I won't…not this."

The youngest Lothbrok understood his brother's hesitation, his wariness. It was a closely concealed secret of their family about Hvitserk's prior drug addiction and how it had almost killed it. He had been clean for close to two years now, but Ivar knew he still had connections even if he did not partake in the sampling anymore. 

Ivar continued to stare at his older brother, just waiting. He knew he was an absolute, selfish bastard for asking this favor. Hvitserk had tried to protect his youngest brother as much as possible while he struggled with his addiction, and this was the one dark spot in Hvitserk's life that he tried to forget about or ignore. But right now, Ivar would do whatever necessary to get a break from his emotional pain. Including lying to his brother. 

Hvitserk ran a hand down his face. "Just this once." 

"Just this once." Ivar agreed.  

He stood up, giving Ivar one more long look as if hoping Ivar would change his mind. When Ivar only stared back, Hvitserk shook his head, and wandered off with a "stay here" over his shoulder. 

The dark-haired Lothbrok leaned back on the couch, arms across the back and surveyed the crowd once again. Years ago he had experimented with different substances, usually alongside Hvitserk, but while his brother enjoyed the sensations, Ivar did not. His mind was his greatest weapon, his most prolific asset. He disliked having his senses affected and his mind sluggish or useless. There had also been one too many accidents that left him in the hospital due to broken bones or lacerations that made him rethink the continued use. He did not mind getting a buzz from drinking, it was almost an obligation during family events, but he still felt in control then.

Tonight though, he wanted out of his head. Even for a little while. 

Feeling eyes on him, his predatory gaze shifted towards the half stairs leading up to the restricted seating area. His blue eyes locked with a pair of bright green ones, belonging to a blonde with a black and gold dress that hugged her fit form like it had been painted on. He continued to watch her, curious to see what she would do next. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze head-on, running a finger along the low neckline of her dress. 

A smirk grew on Ivar's face as he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over. 

It did not take long until his cock was down her throat. 

He allowed the sweet bliss to fill him, to cloud his mind and focus on the pleasure her skilled tongue gave him. But even then, it was still Kari's name on the tip of his tongue when he came. 

*****

Darkness swaddled Ivar in its cocoon of warmth, keeping him safe and at peace. Here, nothing mattered. In the darkness, he was nothing and everything. A serenity floated through and around him, even when his dreams were caked in blood and screams. Nothing could touch or harm him….

….until the abrupt sensation of cold water splashed across his face, delivering him back to the realm of the living. 

"Fuckkkk….what the fuck?" Ivar groaned after jerking awake and wiping the water off this face. Now his pillow was wet. Whoever disturbed him was going to fucking die. Well, once the pounding in his head, echoing his heartbeat, stopped and pain no longer flared behind his eyelids. Fuck, the nausea churning in his gut threatened to escape its weak confines. His stomach itself was attempting to claw its way out of his body. Why did everything fucking hurt? What kind of hangover from hell was this? 

"Mmm….what's going on, baby?" A sleep-laced, feminine voice said from beside him. 

Her voice grated against his ears, only intensifying the psychotic marching band that had taken up residence in his brain. "Shut the fuck up." He growled as he screwed his eyes shut. 

A signature giggle came from the end of the bed, quickly followed by, "does your head hurt? That's a shame."

Fuckkkkkkkk……

Silently, Ivar begged all the gods he knew of to kill him now. He could not deal with that deranged madman today. His whole body was revolting against him at the moment. Even his thoughts staggered and rolled like a drunken sailor onboard a ship. Why was everyone talking so loudly? Was it even possible for sound to hurt this much?

Of course, because the universe hated him and despised him since birth, the feminine voice began shrieking and flailing about on the bed. The hammers striking against his brain with each heartbeat magnified their strength, as if wielded by gods themselves. He groaned loudly, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead, wishing death on everyone who dared to make a single sound.  

Finally, when he could not take her wordless panicking anymore, he rolled over (his stomach reminding him of the physical revolt it was currently throwing) and slapped his hand harshly over the woman's mouth. 

"Shut up!" 

After a moment, he could feel her give a slight nod and only then did he release her. With that, he finally opened his eyes. The morning light blazed through the window, the curtains fully drawn back allowing maximum light into the room. His eyes slammed shut once more, refusing to suffer another level of torture.  

"Fucking sadists." He mumbled, pressing his face back into his damp pillow. He must have spoken loud enough because that signature giggle followed his statement, sending another wave of pain shooting through his brain.

Fingers abruptly started running through his hair and down his bare back. An attempt at soothing him but instead it did the opposite. His body stiffened and his fists clenched even as he laid face down on the bed. 

"Don't touch me." He hissed through clenched teeth. 

The fingers stilled. 

Carefully he tilted his head and peeked over at the woman beside him. What he saw made him immediately regret it and curse his subconscious desires. She had brown hair that most likely had been straightened last night but was now sleep-tousled, with hints of curls returning. The mascara and eye shadow around her blue eyes was smudged. Full lips sat under a small, straight nose. 

Wordlessly, Ivar turned away from her and felt his heart crack at the sight. He knew what it was and hated what his drunk self had done. With just that single glance, he knew his drunk self had chosen her for the faint similarities she had with Kari. Apparently his subconscious would only bring someone like her into his bed now. Gods, what was fucking wrong with him? 

"Get out."

"What?" She questioned softly, her hand still on his shoulder.

He turned his head to glare at her. "Fucking leave."

"But baby…you said last night that you needed me. You made me promise to stay." 

And there was the knife twisting in his gut, but he ignored the pain. He needed her and her irritating touch gone. He needed to wallow in his pain alone and without someone to remind him of his mistakes. Why the fuck would his drunk self pick her? What kind of masochist was he? 

He closed his eyes, no longer willing to look at her. Someone that would never fulfill the throbbing ache in his chest. "Leave or I'll gut you." 

He could sense the warring within her, the confusion and hesitation, and he wondered what else he had blathered at her about last night. What lies and promises had he spewed at her, even if it was truly another person those words were meant for. 

"I suggest you go. I'm not in the mood to clean up blood today." Another bodiless voice said from somewhere in the room. 

Ivar turned his head towards the voice but kept his eyes closed. "Hvits?"

"Morning, brother."

"Ugh. Fuck you."

His brother's answering chuckle made Ivar want to stab someone. Repeatedly. 

The bed began to shift as the Kari look-alike started to get out, but when she tugged on the blanket to cover her nakedness, Ivar yanked the blanket back. He heard the quiet, surprised gasp but there was no remorse in him. She could parade naked down to the lobby for all he gave a shit. Shuffling and footsteps followed a clicking of what he assumed was the bathroom door. 

"Here, you ungrateful bastard. Move that ass."

Ivar rolled over and carefully sat up. The room spun like a carnival ride and he held his head for a long moment, swearing and cursing amidst the pain. Once he was able to overcome the rising nausea, he accepted the water and pills, knowing he needed them since he doubted the two intruders would leave him alone anytime soon. Damn them. 

As he sipped on the water, the bathroom door opened. The woman came out, wearing a maroon dress that looked like someone had taken artistic license to while wielding a knife. She met his eyes, holding one black heel. But whatever she was hoping for, Ivar refused to give her. He slid his gaze away from her, focusing straight ahead and the ugly artwork in the hotel room he found himself in. What hotel was this? It did not look familiar. He heard her scoff and her footsteps move towards the door. 

"Hvitserk, help her out." The asshole said, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed. 

"Sure."

After the door closed, a pregnant silence fell on the two left in the hotel room. Ivar continued to sip on the water, staring straight ahead. The throbbing in his head felt relentless and his body ached as if he had gone a few rounds in the boxing ring. He thought about asking for someone to close the curtains, but his companion began speaking and it overshadowed his internal pain. 

"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my daughter in the woods?" Floki quietly asked. 

Ivar's ears perked up, even as he kept staring forward. Floki hardly talked about his only child. Ivar had vague memories of her, influenced by his own young age since they were born a year apart. But he could never forget how at four years old she had died from leukemia. One of his earliest solid memories was watching Floki silently weeping as he cradled a hysterical Helga to his chest, his eyes never straying from the pyre he had built for his daughter's body. 

Without waiting for Ivar's answer, he continued. "Hmmm….it was one of the few times she wasn't in the hospital. She was like her mother, always wanting fresh flowers, listening to the birds' sing, smiling at the sun. It was…" He sighed, and Ivar could hear the pain and regret in the man's voice. 

"I needed a new tree for a boat and I promised she could come with me. She was so small for her age, so fragile. I got distracted…found the perfect tree and was measuring it. But that was long enough for her to wander off. The panic I felt, Ivar, I can't tell you the complete goddamn terror I experienced as I tried to find my little girl. When she didn't reply as I screamed her name…I thought she'd–" This time he shook his head. "I finally found her, watching birds in the trees above. I scolded her severely, made her cry, but then I hugged her like my life depended on it. I'll never forget the terror I felt that day. Even though it's been over twenty years and she's been gone just as long. I'll never forget." The last sentence came out in a whisper, an audible ode to the harrowing event. 

The next several seconds passed in silence before Ivar broke it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you know what day it is, Ivar?"

"What? Why does that fucking matter?"

Floki reached out his long arm and swatted the side of Ivar's head. "Because you selfish, crippled bastard, you've been missing for thirty hours."

"The fuck–'"

"Ivar, listen," Floki interrupted before Ivar could question the validity of the statement. "The gods may have taken my daughter but they gifted me you as a son. And the fear I felt when Hvitserk told me he couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone…I should beat your ass. I'm too old to deal with this shit anymore."

Ivar sat mutely, his mind reeling with everything Floki had said. How could he be missing for that long? That made no sense. He remembered going to the club with Hvitserk and his brother bringing him the chosen poison and deliverance he had practically begged for. Then there was a girl with blue eyes….or were they green? He could vaguely recall, like looking through a cloudy window, talking with someone about how they had more of the good stuff at their apartment. He remembered huge tits in his face and a woman moaning his name above him. 

He glanced down at his right hand, seeing the cast on it still. There were new drawings and several phone numbers on it now from a bright silver marker. Why could he not remember any of that? When did he arrive at the hotel? What kind of shit had he been on? 

Logically, he knew Floki had every right to scold him. It was a miracle it was not Ragnar himself chastising him. All the Lothbroks knew that with their rise in power and business accomplishments, it also painted a target on their backs for any that would seek to undermine or destroy them. For one of them to go missing…that would become paramount. Everything else would screech to a staggering halt until the missing person was returned. And for it to be him…with the vast wealth of information and security locked away in his mind. It could easily eradicate the company and their family if that knowledge was given to the wrong person. 

As if sensing where Ivar's thoughts led, Floki softly spoke. "Your father doesn't know. He thinks you've been holed up at home. Hvitserk came to me."

A whoosh of air expelled from his lungs, draining the staggering concern and stress that had momentarily crashed over him. "Thanks." He murmured. 

"I know you're hurting. You can't deny what my old eyes see. So I've one question for you…what in the hel are you doing, boy?"

"What are you–"

Floki swatted his head again. "Have you numbed the pain? Do you feel better now?"

"Fuck off. You don't know–"

"And that's where you're wrong again, foolish child. I do know." He leaned forward, forcing Ivar's gaze to meet his, the bed shifting under the movement. "What happened with Kari? I drove you there, if you can even remember. I didn't push you then, but I think I damn well deserve an answer. Saved your dumbass from punching through the bag and now this….what happened?"

Ivar flinched but knew the father of his heart was correct. Especially with it just being the two of them, he knew he could speak freely. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck there. What agony he had tried to temporarily escape flooded him. Wave after wave slammed into his chest, especially with the reminder that even drunk and high, he still craved her. Waking up to find someone not her beside him. The pounding in his head was subsiding but now his heart took the brunt of the pain. 

Ripping his gaze away from Floki's, he stared down at the empty cup in his hand. His thoughts and memories swirled and clashed, like an intricate swordplay. But those edges were live and sharp, cutting and slashing at him with every pass. Her face, tears trickling down her cheeks. The fear and pain in her eyes. The mark he left on her. The self-loathing that threatened to shatter his control. The desperate need to forget and escape. Pain and blood. Gods, he has fucked up. 

Why did he always fuck everything up? 

"She said she needed time." He whispered. "She said….fuck– I can't remember everything, but she didn't want to see me. She said….she knows I'm sorry but she still needed time." His eyes blurred, tears welling in them, as he finally looked back up at his companion. Thick emotion choked his throat, making it hard to speak. "What if she…Floki, I can't lose her. I can't–"

Floki gathered Ivar into his arms and just held him as he cried. The youngest Lothbrok could not remember the last time someone held him as he cried like this, his body quivering with the sobs ripped from his very soul. Most likely his mother or Floki, but that would have been years ago. For he had learned to wrap himself in his anger, allowing his fury to be the suit of armor needed to protect him from the world and all the ways it attempted to rend him apart. 

But then she walked into his life, with her soft curves, kind heart and ability to see past all his barriers, to see past the thorns and thistles wrapped around his blackened heart, to hear the faint beating there, and to cherish its sound. For her to choose him, to want him for simply being Ivar. 

He was undone by her. And yet, he had never felt more powerful and happy than when he was with her. 

Eventually his tears subsided, draining him completely. He leaned back against the headrest of the bed as Floki went to refill his water cup. His body still ached, his stomach unsteady and his head hurt from the hangover and from the crying. It felt like someone had stuck a hose in him and sucked all the vitality out of him, leaving him a dry husk of who he should be, or rung out like a rag and tossed onto the floor to be trampled. 

Floki handed over the new cup of water, settling back onto the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, Ivar drank it slowly, even as he suppressed the urge to just chug it. He was not that stupid. It would most likely come back up. And he despised the taste of vomit. 

Of course, the old man delved into a new level of cruelty. Instead of sitting silently and allowing Ivar time to recover, he resumed speaking. 

The asshole. 

"How do you think Kari would feel if she found you like this? Hmmm?" He asked thoughtfully, as if they were speculating about the weather. "Think she'd take your ass back seeing you hungover like this? Or hearing about all the women you apparently fucked? Hmmm? Why should she want you after this?" 

Shame rolled in his gut, rising with the nausea he could taste in the back of his throat. "She doesn't want me anymore."

Floki swatted his head again. "Damn foolish boy, can't see past his own nose."

"Stop fucking hitting me." Ivar growled. 

"Oh, I'll hit you enough times until you start using that brain of yours." Floki leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, a calculating look in his eyes as he observed the dark-haired Lothbrok. "You want her back?"

Ivar furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"You still want her, yes?"

"What kind of dumb, fucking question is that? She's the reason I–"

"Yes or no, Ivar."

"Yes!" Ivar threw the cup, hearing it hit the nearby wall but kept his gaze locked on Floki's, a tension swirling around them like a rising tide. "Fuck! Yes, I need her! Gods, I miss her so much it hurts!"

"Good." Floki nodded. "You want her back. Now prove it."

"But she said…"

"Yes, yes, she needs time. That doesn't give you the excuse to fuck off and be a disaster. She could still choose you…." Floki's calculating gaze intensified, immediately making Ivar uneasy, "....but not if you're like this. I'll keep her away from you myself if you keep this shit up."

"You wouldn't."

Floki giggled. "Think I won't? I might not know her well, but I do know she deserves better than this." He accused, gesturing to Ivar. 

And he was right. 

Fuck. 

Ivar had always known Kari deserved better than someone like him. She was too pure. Too good. She was the bright, summer sunshine and he was the devastating, dark storm waiting on the horizon. And now…gods, would she even look at him if she knew the self-destruction he had spiraled into because he could not handle her loss? The potential of her rejection. Would she pity him? Would she become even more fearful of him? Would she hate him? 

Would she feel betrayed if she knew he had picked someone that looked like her to blindly fuck in a drunken attempt to alleviate his misery? Shit…she would probably never speak to his sorry ass again. And why should she? He had raged at her when hearing she had gone out on a date and here he had been fucking any woman he could. 

Why would she want him now? What goddamn right did he had to demand of her loyalty if he could not give his own? 

And yet he still wanted her. Still needed her. Would do whatever it took to win her back. To prove how much she meant to him. Even after all the shit he had done. It was still her he thought of constantly, that he wanted by his side, that he wanted to talk to and listen to her laugh, that he wanted to kiss and hold and make love to. Even if fucking was the only thing he knew. He wanted to learn how to make love with her. Floki said to prove it. But how? And the answer to that eluded Ivar. 

Slowly, Ivar shifted his gaze back to meet the piercing eyes watching him. He sighed quietly before speaking. "What do I do?" 

Floki studied him for a long moment before smiling. "You're coming home with me to Norway. Helga has been asking when you're coming to stay and I want you to see my new boat."

Ivar thought about it then shrugged. "Fine." It was probably the best place for him at the moment anyway. 

"Yeah, you ungrateful bastard. I'd drag your ass there anyway. My Helga always gets what she wants."

"You're whipped, Floki."

"Yeah, so are you."

Ivar groaned at the shit-eating grin on Floki's face but could not deny it. Not this time. With all his confessions and actions, it would be futile to try and deny it. 

Pushing himself off the bed, Floki started to search around the hotel room. "Where's your clothes, boy?"

"Stop calling me that."

"When you stop acting like a spoiled brat, I will."

"Fuck off."

"No, we've got a plane to catch and I highly doubt you can walk a straight line."

"Fuck me." Ivar groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in resignation while Floki's giggles filled the room. 

It took some time for Floki to locate all of Ivar's things. Thankfully, Ivar still had his pants on. Not that it surprised him. Even drunk and high, apparently his subconscious still was overly aware of the state of his mangled legs and did not want others to see them. Amidst copious amounts of swearing, Floki plying him with an excessive amount of water, and only one trip to the bathroom to puke up half of the contents of his stomach, the two of them finally made it out of the hotel. 

The morning sunlight burned Ivar's eyes as he stepped outside, refueling the hammering in his head. Squinting, he could see Hvitserk standing just off to the side of the door, smoking a cigarette. Without a word, he moved to join his brother. 

"You look like shit." Hvitserk greeted him. "Smell like sex and vodka."

Ivar took the offered cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling it curl in his lungs. "It's an improvement over what you always look like."

His brother snorted, taking the cigarette back. "Here." He handed over a pair of sunglasses. 

With a nod of thanks, Ivar slipped them on gratefully. 

"Don't ever pull this shit again. I was worried." Hvitserk stated as he handed the cigarette back over. 

"I know. I think Floki will kill me if I do."

"Slowly and painfully!" The asshole yelled out from where he stood a few paces away on the phone. 

Hvitserk chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.

"You good?"

Ivar thought about his answer, about all the revelation he had received up in the hotel room and what all Floki had said to him. He answered softly, "I will be." 

Hvitserk hummed. "Might want to get tested soon. The number of girls who sucked your cock at the club….if I wasn't so pissed at you, I'd say you deserve an award. Then you fucked off when I walked away and I couldn't fucking find you."

Ivar smirked, as he finished off their now shared cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and watching Hvitserk step on it. 

The three of them loaded up in Hvitserk's car and headed towards the brothers' house. Head against the window, eyes closed during the drive, Ivar listened to Floki's words replay over and over in his mind. How could he 'prove it'? What did that even mean? 

He decided to analyze that more later when he was not hungover and exhausted. 

Once they finally made it back to the house, Ivar trudged to his room, ignoring the sounds of his family. What in the hell were they doing here in the late morning? Making a quick side trip to vomit once more then pop some strong pain pills he kept in his bathroom, he grabbed a few essentials from his room to bring with him to Floki's. 

Over the years, one of the spare bedrooms in Floki's house had become Ivar's since he spent so much time with them, especially as a child. It was the only place Aslaug would allow her youngest to go without her ever-watchful eyes on him. With the frequency and duration of time spent there, it had become easier to leave a decent amount of clothing and other personal belongings to await his return. 

With a backpack slung over his back, he grabbed his cane and his computer bag. That would be sufficient for now. If he needed something later, it would not be hard to have his father or brothers deliver it to him. 

Voices coming from the kitchen drew his attention and he headed that way after exiting his bedroom. He could hear Ubbe arguing with someone and mild shock spilled over him to hear Gyda. What the fuck was she doing here? And who the hell pissed her off so badly? However much she tried not to associate with the Lothbrok business and keep herself clear of all that entailed, she was certainly a Lothbrok through and through. Her temper alone was evidence of that. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he could see Gyda squaring off to Ubbe, hands on her hips and tension coating every inch of her body. Ubbe stood meeting her gaze head-on, arms over his chest. Hvitserk and Floki stood off to the side, seemingly watching the verbal sparring take place with no intention to intervene. Of course, Hvitserk had food in his mouth, one of his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. 

Hearing his footsteps and cane tapping as he entered the room, all eyes focused on him. Before he could question what was going on, the tall, blonde female practically flew across the room to shove him. It was only through sheer instinct and luck that he managed to only stumble backward and not lose his balance, having to drop his computer bag to reach out for a nearby wall to steady himself. 

"What the fu–"

"If you lay a finger on Kari again, I swear I will castrate you…" Gyda spat through gritted teeth with a vengeful fire blazing in her eyes. "...and then I'll cut off all your fingers, one by one. I don't give a single fuck that you're family. You hurt her again, I WILL come for you. Do you understand?" 

"Yes." Ivar slowly enunciated, fury boiling in his chest at her threats. But for once, he kept his anger in check.

"Good." She took a step back, hands returning to her hips. It was now she eyed him critically, as if seeing him for the first time. "Holy hell, you do look like shit. I'm still pissed enough I'll beat your sorry ass with your own cane though."

"Gyda, leave him alone, alright?" Ubbe said, coming around the large kitchen island. "You delivered your message, that's enough now."

Any other time, Ivar might have sneered at Ubbe attempting to be the peacemaker in the family, like always. But right now, he was too exhausted, too heartsore, too grateful for his older brother stepping in to say anything. It was taking all the miniscule strength he barely possessed to not lash out at Gyda, even if a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Gyda was only standing up for her friend. He met Ubbe's eyes for a moment, hoping he could see the thanks in them before dropping his eyes to his cane in hand. 

Floki came over to his side, picking up the dropped computer bag. "Ready?"

He just silently nodded. The frustration and anger coiled and burned in his chest but he bit his tongue for once. Gyda had every right to be pissed at him. Part of him wondered who told her about what happened between him and Kari. 

Without a word, Ivar started towards the front door, Floki by his side. The two of them were almost to the door when Hvitserk called out his name, drawing closer. 

"Don't stab me, but I'm going to hug you." Hvitserk quickly informed him before doing exactly that. And to both of their astonishment, Ivar readily reciprocated the hug. Neither of them acknowledged the tight grip Ivar had on Hvitserk's shirt, as if in that moment, his brother's touch was the only thing keeping him from crumbling. 

"I'll keep an eye on her. I promise." Hvitserk whispered, pulling back enough to press his forehead against his youngest brother's. 

"Thanks." Ivar murmured, although it came out more as a strangled croak. 

Emotions rising and warring inside him, alongside the unrelenting hangover, he trudged towards the car waiting outside for them. Seeing which driver it was waiting for them, Ivar was thankful it was one that preferred silence instead of background music. Minutes later, they were on the road, heading to the airport and the private Lothbrok plane waiting for them there. 

With eyes closed once again, he could not tear his thoughts away from Kari. Not after Hvitserk's comment. 

He wondered what she was doing. Was she working today? Had her cramps gotten better? What was she thinking about? Did she miss him yet? It was now he realized how much he looked forward to their conversations, even if it was just over texting. She always made him smile somehow. His own personal sunshine amidst the dark clouds and storm that was his life. His kitten. Did he brighten her day as much as she did his? 

An idea popped into his mind and without overthinking it for once, he acted on it. 

Less than five minutes later, a bouquet of tulips was on its way to her with his message. 

He turned the screen off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Gods, he prayed she liked the flowers. She had said they were her favorite. She would be less likely to toss them in the garbage then, right? Fuck. He hoped she liked the gesture, that it brightened her day. 

Floki's advice still swirled in his mind, like a maelstrom. Kari had told him to stay away, that she needed time. He could– no, he would honor that. She needed space from him. And she deserved it. But that did not mean he was going to let her go. Fuck that shit. He needed her. He silently swore to himself to do everything possible to show her how sorry he was for his actions and how much he missed her. 

To prove how much she meant to him. 

*****

Ivar stared out at the gorgeous scenery spread out before him like a painting masterpiece. The steep walls of the Norwegian fjord rose above the glittering blue river. The trees appeared ablaze with what was left of autumn's colors, transforming summer's green to something warmer. A deception to the present chill in the air, a taste of the coming winter. He could practically feel the impending cold in his bones. 

His thoughts though were miles away from the picturesque scenery before him. He tapped his phone absent-mindedly against his leg with his left hand, since his right was still in its cast. Which was thankfully back to its original black and without random phone numbers in it. It had only taken a call to the local hospital to have them willing to redo his cast without any questions. One of the many times Ivar appreciated how easily he could use his name to bypass regulations and rules. 

"Did you decide yet?"

"Yeah." A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "I ordered the Armani sweater and Dior jacket."

Helga settled onto the wooden Adirondack chair next to Ivar's, her blonde hair catching in the faint breeze. "I bet she'll love them."

"Hopefully."

"Of course she will." She leaned over, whispering conspiracingly. "Think Floki will buy those for me?"

He chuckled. "If he doesn't, I will."

Laughing, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "I've missed having you here. Even if most of the time, you've been holed up in your room on your laptop."

He rolled his eyes at her pointed look. "I've been working."

"I know. Floki told me. I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping."

His brows pinched together as he tried to figure out how she knew that. Helga typically turned in early and rose with the dawn, quite opposite of Ivar who was a night owl. Aware of that, he made sure to be as quiet as possible when moving around the house, not wishing to disturb her or Floki when he finally retired for the night. At that point, he usually returned to his room but would remain awake for hours more, face illuminated by his computer or phone as he worked feverishly. If he let his mind wander freely too much, it would descend into solemn depths, he would rather avoid. 

"Floki told me. He hears you moving around–"

"That asshole never sleeps either." Ivar muttered. 

"--and those bags under your eyes are looking like you got into Floki's 'war paint'." 

He smirked as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "If I hide it again, what do you think he'll do?"

"Knowing what happened last time you stole it and drew penises all over the side of his shed….gods, what were you? Fifteen?" She shook her head, unable to fully restrain the amused, fond smile on her face, highlighting the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. 

He grinned mischievously. "I was thirteen, but it was all Hvitserk's idea though."

"Uh huh. I highly doubt that."

The door opening had both of them turning their heads to see Floki stepping out onto the back deck. He stepped out in his usual brown pants and dark, long-sleeve shirt, the tattoos on the sides of his head clearly visible. He must have finished shaving his head before coming out. Ivar silently wondered if Floki and Helga even noticed anymore that their attire always seemed to match in some way. Today, Floki's shirt was a dark, forest green, the color matching Helga's dress, even as it was covered in a floral design. Maybe they were so in tune with one another by this point in their decades long marriage, it was instinctual or unconscious. 

A stray thought drifted through Ivar's mind, questioning if Kari and himself would ever be like that….he quickly brushed it away. 

"He lives!' Floki gestured towards Ivar as he came closer. "I thought you'd finally died from glaring at your laptop. Save us all from your complaining and moaning. I was preparing to drag your crippled, scrawny ass down and throw you in a funeral boat."

"Like an old, fat fucker like you could carry me."

"Ivar, language!" Helga chastised. 

"You see the abuse I have to deal with, min skatt?" Floki plopped on the arm of Helga's chair, wrapping his arm around her and faux pouting. "And I even shared my Brennivín with him."

She poked his side, making him giggle. "You just wanted an excuse to open the new bottle."

He hummed, noncommittally, before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his wife's lips. 

Ivar dropped his gaze to his lap. Not because he was uncomfortable with their displays of affection, but because it made his heart ache. He had that and he fucked it up. He had someone to hold and kiss and tease, but he allowed himself to become blinded by perceived betrayal instead of trusting her. Someone who had only ever been genuine and selfless with him.  

It was almost a week and a half since he destroyed whatever it was that was blooming between them, something he had never experienced before but craved now with every cell in his deformed body. Six days had passed since he arrived in Norway with Floki. 

He had not heard from his kitten since she had texted him in thanks about the food he ordered when he found her on the couch. He could not think about it too much or he knew he would drive himself mad again. The gaping hole in his chest still bled her name, weeped with missing her touch. 

He appreciated Floki returning home with him. There was a peace here, tucked away in the woods outside Kattegat, that he had never found anywhere else. Not even in his childhood house in the city. Maybe it was the location? Maybe it was the two people who filled it with pieces of themselves and transformed it from a house to a home? Whatever it was, Ivar was grateful to be here. 

The only problem was the silence at night that pursued him. His demons of regret, self-loathing and insecurity stalked him in the darkness, wrapping their claws around his throat to strangle whatever buds of hope tried to blossom in his cheat. 

So he threw himself into his work. Ignoring his body screaming for sleep until he passed out from exhaustion or drinking with Floki. He continued to monitor the traitorous fucker, further tightening the strings of his web until soon it would bind the turncoat and keep him immobile. 

Then Ivar had lethal plans. 

Until then, he kept an eye on other endeavors for Ragnar. Both for the company and off the books, anything to keep his mind busy. More often than not, he would work through the night, not even aware of the sun's arrival until he checked the time. Yet she still invaded his mind with frequency. It certainly did not help that third day, he had drunkenly proclaimed to Floki and Helga, he would send flowers to Kari every day until she took him back. 

Floki had laughed.  

Helga had sighed then leaned forward and told him to stop sending flowers and send something meaningful. 

So far, he had no intentions of ceasing his array of offerings. But he had hoped….wished that by now, she would have texted him. At least thanked him for some of the presents. All he had gotten was radio silence. It burned like ice held against his skin for too long. A permanent chill took up residence in his chest, tightening its grasp on him with each passing day. 

He knew she had received the packages. He was notified every time something was delivered but he also had a contact keeping an eye on her for him. Would she never speak to him again if she learned that she was being watched and followed? Most likely. But she already was giving him the silent treatment and he could not with good conscience allow her to be unprotected. He might not be around anymore but that did nothing to lessen his compelling need to keep her safe. 

Hvitserk text him frequently, sometimes making a passing comment about how Kari was doing since he checked in with her often. Hearing the snippets of their conversations was both a knife to the chest, twisting and further ripping at his heart but also a cooling balm. To hear she was doing alright and she did not hate his family nor him. That she really did just need time to think. 

But how much time? How much longer could he keep waiting? Why would she not just fucking talk to him? Yell at him. Scream until his ears bled. Break one of his bones to help her feel better. Gods, he would let her do anything if it would create a bridge over the void between them. 

He just wanted to know if she thought of him as often as his thoughts turned towards her. 

Sighing, he glanced down at his phone in his hand, bombarded with alerts and notifications but not from the one person he wanted. 

Should he text her? Was it up to him to open that door of communication? But she said she needed time….why was all of this so damn confusing? Why did he have to fuck everything up in the first place?

"I'll go start on dinner." Helga announced, standing up. "Ivar, you should order those books for her next. That was a good idea."

He nodded silently, sending her a small, grateful smile.  

After Helga left, the two men sat in the quietness of nature, gazing out over the water and fjord of Norway. A comfortable silence hovered over them. 

Suddenly, Ivar's phone started ringing, startling him. With a raised brow, he unlocked the screen and brought the phone to his ear. 

"What?"

"How's that vacation of yours?"

"Fuck off."

His father chuckled darkly before clearing his throat and turning serious. "Think you're sober enough to deal with our traitor?"

Ivar tensed, even as his stomach flipped and his fingers twitched in anticipation. "When?"

"Two days."

"Where?"

"Istanbul."

"Good."

Ragnar hummed thoughtly then continued. "He still has no notion we are aware of his activities, correct?"

Ivar snorted. "That goddamn fucker tried to send out information about your supplier in Libya…which does Bjorn even know about this supplier?"

"Not a fucking word, Ivar."

"Yeah, figured." Ivar scoffed, his hand tapped repetitively on his knee as his mind raced. "I'll leave tomorrow. Get everything ready there."

"Excellent. Tell Floki I need him next week."

"Sure."

The click on his phone notified Ivar that his father was no longer on the line and had not even attempted to end the call with a 'goodbye'. Like normal. 

"Ragnar needs you next week." Ivar said, leaning back once again in his seat. Weeks of work, weeks of pouring through files and coded messages while digging deeper and deeper into the mire of corruption and betrayal. All of it would finally come into the light. All his hard work would showcase the snake he had caught, slithering through the henhouse. If only it had known Ivar was the bigger predator, with long-reaching claws and limitless resources. 

"Hmmm….and what's got you so happy?" Floki asked, breaking Ivar from his thoughts. 

He had not even realized a menacing smile covered his lips. Chuckling darkly, he could almost taste the spilled blood on his tongue. He stared straight ahead as he answered Floki, his gaze no longer seeing the fjord but a dark room where justice would be served. "My web has entangled a snake. And now it's time to rip its fangs out and watch it scream as I bleed it dry." 

Tag List:

Vikings (all)

@youbloodymadgenius @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310 @errruvande-2-0

To Call Forth Love 

@heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @ecarroll1978 @breezykpop @avoidanceishowiroll @maggyme13 @that-virgo-witch @cdauni @istorkyou @smears-and-spotss @resichen2406 @jessi-lynn-h @heathengurrrl71 @harleyquinn3289 @ivarlover @complicatedbutrare

Vikings-Ivar

@breezykpop @frankie-undead-dame

[trollishly]

Valkyrie Pt. 5 • Ivar X Reader

A girl shows up bloody and beaten to Kattegat. The Queen and her sons take an interest in the girl, especially Ivar.

Warnings: Gore, Swearing, Mentions of sex, Angst, Anything you'd expect from Vikings

The harsh chilled wind of Kattegate’s forest whipped the the thick furs that laid upon her shoulders. The forest seemed to be alive, as the trees whined and creaked as the gusts only became stronger. Her breathing became heavier as she quickened her pace towards her desired destination, ambitious for what she seeked.

Her eyes light up as they finally fell upon the individual, though she couldn't help but shiver as her feet finally met the front of their seated position. 

“The Queen...“ Slightly bowed the being, words slurring from their twisted lips. “Ancient One,” Quipped Aslaug as she tucked her gown to kneel before him, “you know why I am here, we’ve spoken of this matter before.“ Rushed the Queen in a desperate manner. The Seer let an exasperated grunt, his grotesque tongue running along his lips in thought. “The girl from your vision, you speak of her, you’ve spoken to her.” Hummed the cloak individual, while Aslaug only nodded hoping for him to continue.  

"Well what is it that is troubling you my Queen?" Aslaug rolled her eyes slightly, "I wish to know if my visions are once again correct, or am I mistaken and she is actually a threat to my kingdom?"

"You ask difficult questions, always questioning." He grinned, "However, I shall give you comfort by saying that what you see, is in fact true my Queen." Aslaug let out a breath of relief she hadn't known she was holding, refraining from smiling, which she found herself doing more often as of late. "The gods have blessed us with a great gift..." Croaked the Seer, "A Valkyrie." Spoke the two in unison.

•••

Soft knocks echoed throughout the quaint room, and with nobody acknowledging it, a hush voice followed. "I'm coming in." Spoke Ubbe as he push the door open which dragged along the uneven floor.

There laid Frode, in bed and struggling to inhale evenly. His glazed over eyes drifting to look at the intruder. Ubbe watched as the boy clench his hand firmer around the one that laid upon his, the hand belonging to non other than his sister.

Y/n was slouched against Frode's bed, half her weight on her knees and the other on the edge of the bed. She looked as if she hadn't slept for days, which was half of the truth. If it weren't for Y/n's recent episodes of passing out, she would've been up like usual, her sleep schedule being far from healthy.

"Is she asleep?" Asked Ubbe, stepping further into the room. Frode tried to speak in denial, however, he found himself unable to speak, his voice caught in his throat as another fit of coughs erupted from him. With Frode at a loss, he was not able to warn Ubbe as he reached out to shake his sister awake. Y/n flinched harshly from his touch, rolling away from him and onto her feet. They both stood still, however, Y/n seemed to be on guard due to his presence. Ubbe tilted his head, trying to catch the girl's gaze, but she seemingly refused, not wanting him to see her at her weakest, as her eyes were red and puffy from her night's worth of crying over her brother.

"Sorry to disturb, but my mother asked me to invite you to come eat with us." Ubbe simply said, "I would of sent a thrall, but it seems you've scared them all half to death." Chuckled the man as he refrained from coming any closer.

"No, but thank you." Replied Y/n, turning to tend to her little brother once more. Frode quickly grasped his sister wrist and pulled a pleading face at her. "Y/n, you were never one to deny food, please go. I promise I will be fine." Comforted Frode as he begun to push Y/n away. "You need fresh air, you shouldn't be near me. I am not well," he paused briefly by taking a breath as he tried not to cough, "with you still being injured, it could become deadly if you were to stay near me and get sick." Finished the boy, relieved to see that his persuasion was beginning to work as his sister's frown lessened.

"He'll be fed and watched yes?" Questioned Y/n as she turned to face Ubbe. He nodded reassuring her, "A thrall will tend to your brother's every need."

Y/n began to debate in her head, not for long though, as her thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl that came from her stomach. "Okay." Agreed Y/n begrudgingly, as she came to pushed the hair from Frode's face before leaving the room with Ubbe following closely behind.

•••

"Uh- pardon?" Stuttered Ubbe shaking himself from his trance. Y/n spoke up and repeated herself, "I said, the Queen is very generous. All of you are, you could have left my brother and I to die." Expressed Y/n as she kept her head facing fowards as she walked alongside the prince.

Ubbe blinked down at the girl, inspecting her appearance, which he did more often than he'd like to admit, especially in the little time he was in her presence. "You should thank the Queen, yourself." He said, looking away when he caught himself staring. "She knows something we don't- a-and I trust her enough to follow her blindly. Not only because she is my mother, but because I believe she is fit as ruler." Spoke Ubbe, his tone indicating he said more than what he intended to.

Y/n's forehead creased slightly at the mention of his mother's knowledge of the unknown, but let him be, by keeping silent as they finally made it to the hall.

Bickering could be heard from a table of cluttering cutlery, a whine drawing the attention of Y/n. "Mother. Tell them to stop tormenting me." Mischievously spoke, who Y/n now knew as Ivar, as he held a hand of a thrall, who sat rigid beside him. His head was lolled to the side as he looked pleadingly towards his mother with a pout.

Ubbe walked ahead of the girl, a snort coming from him due to his little brother's banter. This causing everyone's eyes to not only land on Ubbe, but Y/n as well. Ubbe eyed a seat from across the room, rounding the table and sitting besides Hvitserk, who's eyes kept flickering between Ivar and Y/n curiously, as he continued to shove food into his mouth.

At the speed of which Thor would strike his hammer, Ivar shuffled in his seat, removing Margrethe's hand from his lips and dismissing her with just a wave of his arm. Y/n stood quietly, unsure with what to do with herself, before realizing something that could have been crucial.

"My Queen." Announced Y/n as she bowed her head in respect, looking at her through the thick of her lashes. "Morning Y/n. I am pleased to see that you've joined us once more. Please, take a seat beside me." She said, gesturing to a spot in between herself and Sigurd. As Y/n approached, the Queen gave Margrethe a narrowed side glance, "Get our guest a chair." She stated firmly, causing the thrall to panick as she left her spot beside Ivar and walking towards the nearest chair. Both her and Y/n reached for the chair, clutching it at the same time.

"Please, there is no need." Y/n said gently, lifting the chair from Margrethe's grasp and placing it in its spot. The slave just stepped back and scanned Y/n's form before looking away in a submissive manner.

As Y/n took a seat, the Queen continued their discussion before Ivar had been interrupted. "Now Ubbe, when will you have children?" Asked the Aslaug as she gestured to him with a napkin in hand. He grinned, "I probably already have!" He joked causing the others boys to break out in laughter as he pick at his food to throw it towards his mother. "No I'm serious, each and everyone of you should have a woman by now, even married." Spoke the Queen genuinely, as she looked to each of her boys. All of them eyed each other before shrugging without a care and focusing back onto their food. The Queen pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head, turning to face her attention to Y/n.

"It seems my boys are far too immature to have a wife, let alone children, don't you think Y/n?" Smiled Aslaug at the girl, which made the boys pause in their gluttony. Y/n found herself a little caught off guard, as she was never the one to get romantically involve, spending most of her time training or raising her brother.

"I don't believe my opinion would have much value my Queen." Began Y/n as she kept her attention solely on Aslaug, "But since they are the King and Queen's children, heirs are expected from them..." Aslaug seemed pleased with Y/n's answer as her lips quirked slightly, "Hmm, and do you have a husband, or lover, for that matter?"

Y/n cringe internally, knowing what Frode would say to the Queen if he had the opportunity. "I don-" However, Aslaug cut her short. "I'm speaking nonsense aren't I? Of course you would. You are a very beautiful young woman, and a shield maiden I assume?" Rambled the Queen which seemed suspiciously intentional. Y/n's mouth was left agape momentarily before she quickly closed it, "Yes, I am a shield maiden my Queen." She said keeping her answer curt.

Hvitserk began giggling cheekily, as he watched the way Ivar strained himself by pressing his palms against the bench. Pushing his torso upwards as he leaned on the table, in hopes of getting a better view of his mother and Y/n as they conversed. Sigurd scowled at his little brother's enamored behavior. Still upset at his earlier possessiveness of Margrethe, especially after she had confided in him the night before.

"As I was saying, you don't need to love the woman to breed with them." Explained the Queen, making Y/n bow down to eat her soup as she try her hardest to block out the conversation; one that she had already deemed as a personal family matter. As Aslaug continued to chatter, Y/n's eyes scan the room as she spooned the food into her mouth, making accidental eye contact with Hvitserk as he copied her actions. He grinned at her as the soup messily dribble down his chin, until an aggressive voice broke his playful staring.

"What is wrong with you?" Quipped Ivar as he now leaned further onto the table staring daggers at Sigurd, "Nothing is wrong with me," spat Sigurd making Hvitserk and Y/n glanced at each other, with Hvitserk widening his eyes at her humorously. "I just wanted to know if she has love anyone except Harbard..." Silence followed making Y/n sit up uncomfortable, "You remember Harbard don't you?" Sigurd continued sparing everyone a glance but his mother.

Ubbe sat stoney still and so did Hvitserk, but Ivar pushed on, with his arms now crossed loosely, "Of course she has loved another," he stated to Sigurd while nodding. "She has always loved me... isn't that right mother?" He urged while smiling at his mother, his eyes briefly catching Y/n's, who was sat just behind Aslaug from his position. However, the Oueen didn't speak and just nodded as she swallowed her drink discreetly.

Y/n's eyebrows raised at Aslaug's reaction, wondering as for why the Queen wasn't being more reassuring to her son, "She just pities you Ivar, just like the rest of us. Y/n probably feels sorry for you too, especially when you look at her with so much desperation." Ivar flinched at Sigurd's words, anger and embarrassment building within him. "and sometimes, we wish mother had left you to the wolves." He smoothly said, as if it weren't something completely vile. Y/n couldn't comprehend how someone could be so cruel, mainly to their family.

"Sigurd!" Demanded the Queen, with Ivar continuing to glare at his brother trying to sort his feelings internally, "What?" Was all he replied with, before resuming his breakfast.

Y/n found herself wanting to put Sigurd in his place, but refrained from doing so as nothing but consequences would come from it. A drag of a chair turn Y/n's attention back to Ivar, as he was now standing tall at the end of the table. This caused Sigurd to haphazardly throw his spoon onto the table, scoffing at Ivar's display.

Ivar began scooting from his seat, supporting his weight briefly on his mother's chair, with her cooing at him to calm his temper. Her attempts went unnoticed as he continued, with his left hand wavering, before it had finally landed on the back of Y/n's chair. Ivar and the girl gazed at each other, with her turning within her seat to make room for the young prince. Ivar was now hesitant, mainly now that he was the closest he had yet been to Y/n, not helping himself as he caught of whiff of her aroma that furthermore attracted him to her. Ivar's forearm gently grazed Y/n's hair as he pulled himself from one chair to another, as he heard Sigurd still taunting him.

"Come on Boneless!" He teased as he stood from his chair now that Ivar was near. Everyone was now standing, Y/n situating herself just behind Ivar. Bowls and utensils fell to the floor as Sigurd pulled a chair from underneath Ivar making him collapse with a painful sounding thud. Y/n reach down to help him, but pause as Hvitserk gestured to her not to from the corner of her eye.

Ivar's frustrated huffs filled the room, his nostrils flaring as he forcefully began to drag himself towards his target. Sigurd's harmful jabs continued, with the Queen now walking up towards Ivar and passing Y/n, who couldn't help but stand and watch how this would play out.

Sigurd seemed to grow tired of this little game, quickly turning and pushing the doors of the hall open, making the bright light bleach the room with a stark white wash, highlighting Ivar's enraged features.

Ivar chased Sigurd out of the room causing a loud scream to rip from his throat, with the Queen attempting to hold him back.

•••

End of part 5.

•••

Notes: Thank you all so much for 50 followers! Had to finish and post part 5 today for you all!

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius, @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog, @midnightmystic

Ask to be tagged!

[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...

[katfett]

Ivar and Elen from English Rose

[ivarisms]

Forbidden Romance

Title: Forbidden Romance

Summary: Ivar the Boneless finds a Princess during one of his raids on Mercia, a sign from the Gods he decides. She is a Christian and he is a Viking, a forbidden romance on both sides of the sea. But Ivar does not care what others think, and he won’t start now. 

Ratings: Mature, NSFW in later chapters, violence, non-con

Paring: Ivar the Boneless x Female OC 

                                        C H A P T E R  ONE --- FATE

“Come here.” Ivar wagged his pointer and middle fingers of his right hand towards the princess, beckoning her forward. A sly smirk curved at his lips when he saw the fear pool within her eyes. Slender shoulders slumped in distress and she grasped at the material of her dress, bunching it in her palms as if she was getting ready to 

R U N.

Ivar watched as she looked around the chapel where her bishop lay dead, his blue eyes fixed on her as she searched hopelessly for an escape that did not exist. The young woman soon realised she was out of options and settled her frightened gaze back onto the Viking.

“Did you not hear me, Christian?” He asked, his gravelled Nordic accent sneering around the religious word as if it was filth in his mouth. “I said come here.”

When once again she didn’t move at his command, Ivar the Boneless glanced at his brother Hvitserk who wasted not another second in grabbing her arm and yanking her forward roughly. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stumbled over the blue fabric of her dress and she froze when presented in front of the man whose name she had heard many times before now.

The locals some of whom had fought and survived battles against the Vikings said he was a God, some even were convinced that he couldn’t be killed, that he had been sent from the devil himself to burn all that was good from the world.

She swore that her heart would surely give out, not able to handle the stress she had been put under. What would he do with her?

“Tell me, what is your name?” He asked after a moment of studying her, leaning forward on his metal cane that creaked against the blood stained floorboards. He stared right through her, and she attempted to turn away from him but he scowled and snatched her chin between calloused fingers, forcing her to look up at him. The anger he possessed in his features was terrifying, and though he was handsome, it did not matter to her in that moment. He was a monster, that much was clear to her. “Answer me.”

“Please –“ She trembled, tears swelling in her soft eyes. “Please let me go, take anything you want, I won’t tell anyone.”

Ivar’s men broke out into a chorus of laughter as they ransacked the chapel, stepping over the bodies that littered the Holy site as the princess begged for her life. Ivar smiled back at her, amused at how she truly thought to herself that he would just let her free. So naïve. Snorting out a breath, he lifted a bloodied thumb and grazed it against her pale cheek, leaving a deep red mark behind. “I already have taken everything I want. This shithole town that belonged to your father is burning around us as we speak, it won’t be long before this chapel burns too. The people who resisted are now dead, the ones who didn’t are now slaves and will serve my people until there is no further use for them.”

Pausing, Ivar eyed the princess carefully and leaned in close until his face was level with hers. He felt something ignite within him as her bottom lip trembled, the fear she radiated was so infectious that it excited him. “As for your father, I had him crucified outside the town walls as a warning to the others who will no doubt come running to his aid.”

The princess lowered her head and sobbed quietly, tears spilling down her cheeks and into the crooks of her lips. She tried to take a step back away from him, but gasped when he snatched her throat and yanked her so close to him that she could smell the leather and blood clinging to him, along with musk and mud.

“You. Are. Evil.” She mustered through her terror, her mouth parting as he squeezed with just enough pressure to make her uncomfortable.

“I could not care less about what you think of me, girl.” He smirked at her then, feeling her pulse quicken in his hand. She was like a baby deer to him, it wouldn’t take much to break her in half if he wanted to. Making Christians squeal was a talent he had perfected, even his own brothers couldn’t stomach some of the imaginative techniques he used in killing those who apposed him. He imaged in that moment what it would look like to strip her naked and nail her to a cross alongside her father, letting her bleed out slowly and painfully. Oh, how King Alfred would weep at such a tragedy. “I am Ivar the Boneless and I am your new God. Now – tell me your name before you make me hurt you.”

She glowered at him, wishing him the worst pain and misery she could possibly imagine. If only God would strike him down now, she would pray to him every day until her last.

“My name is Freya.” She hissed through her teeth at him, wincing as his nails nipped at her tender skin.

Ivar’s smirk faded almost immediately and something else filled his eyes when he looked at her. Loosening his grip on her neck, he pulled his hand from her entirely and blinked when she coughed.

“Freya…” He murmured, tasting her name on his tongue as he gazed at her curiously. “How is it possible for a girl from these lands to share the name of our Goddess, hmm?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She bit back at him, lifting her hand to touch at her neck that was now reddened from his harshness.

“It doesn’t matter, hush now.” Pressing his index finger against her full lips, Ivar turned to look at his men who continued to take their share in the spoils they found within the chapel. If he ordered them to kill the girl, they would have and wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Hvitserk stood alert with sword in hand, waiting for the go-ahead to drive the steel through her heart like a knife through butter. But Kattegat’s King had changed his mind. Returning his gaze back to princess Freya, he sighed and rolled broad shoulders into a shrug.

“I was going to kill you. I had it all planned so beautifully in my mind.” He tapped his temple with his fingers and smiled at her deviously. “What would break King Alfred’s spirit more than having him see such a lovely princess crucified to a cross alongside her pig father? Having you die this way would make your people fear me more than they already do, you have no idea how much I hunger for that kind of fame.”

Freya trembled at the thought, but she said nothing to Ivar as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered against her skin as he spoke. “But now that I know that your name is Freya, I truly believe Odin has delivered you to me for a reason. You may think I am crazy, you won’t be the only one – but Odin does not want me to sacrifice you. He wants me to save you.”

Freya didn’t understand. She furrowed her brows as she stared up at the King, feeling her sadness overwhelm her.

“You always think everything is a sign from the Gods, brother – even when it is not!” Hvitserk grumbled, lifting his sword and pointing its sharpened tip at Freya threateningly. “She’s a Christian. Kill her and be done with it, enough of these games. We need to leave for Kattegat and bring these spoils back to our people before reinforcements arrive.”

“Are you telling me what to do, Hvitserk?” Ivar asked mockingly, his tone a veiled threat as he narrowed his steely glare at his brother. “Of course it is a sign from the Gods! You remember Freydis, yes?”

Sighing deeply, Hvitserk clinched his jaw at the mention of his brother’s once wife.

“And where is she now, Ivar?” He asked. “Dead. You killed her, remember?”

“Of course, I remember!” He seethed, his eyes darkening angrily. “She betrayed me, I had to kill her for the lies she told. And as much as I loved her, and Gods did I LOVE her – her death had to happen. You know this, everybody knows this. Odin demanded her sacrifice and now in turn he has gifted me with Freya.”

Eyes widening, the princess felt Ivar’s hand come to rest on the small of her back and glanced at the other son of Ragnar who glared at her like she was the top name on his list of people he wanted to kill. How could it be that her life now depended on Ivar?

“If that is what you believe, then so be it. I do not care anymore.” Hvitserk growled, glaring between his brother and the new pet he had claimed. “Take the Christian with you, all I’m concerned about is sailing home to Kattegat.”

“And we will.” Ivar stated, waving his hand at his men, commanding them wordlessly to go ahead and ready the longships for the journey home. “Come now, princess – we are going to Norway.”

“Norway?” She flinched from his touch as he reached for her arm, terrified of being whisked away to a foreign land. “Please Ivar, no.”

“Shut up.” He warned her carefully. He was in no mood for complaints, it had already been a long enough day. “Do not make me have to stuff your mouth with cloth and hog-tie you, it’s a rough journey across the North Sea and it would very uncomfortable for you. I would prefer it if you do as I say, and we will get along so much better.”

Her need to cry and fight him was unbearable, she wanted to scream and punch and kick him but she had no allies here. All her family, friends, everyone she had grown up with were now dead.

“Good.” Ivar patted her cheek, taking her silence as a victory. “Now, time to go.” Guiding her forward, the Viking allowed his men to flank her on either side to lead her out to the ships.

Ivar limped behind them, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.

tags: @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @strayrockette​

[alicedopey]

Dreams, Dreams, Dreams

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Ivar x plus-size reader

Genre: Modern AU, Smut, Romance

Words: 3034

Warnings: Smut, oral (giving and receiving), self-depreciation

Summary: Working with Ivar has triggered something in your mind, especially at night.

A/N: This was supposed to be posted for @flowers-in-your-hayr​ ‘s birthday but is now my contribution to her 650 followers celebration. (Moodboard is her own creation) Enjoy !

“Mr Ragnarsson, I…”

“Ivar, call me Ivar.”

It seemed accurate, since he was balls deep inside you.

“Ivar”. You were painting. “I’m going to come.”

Your words made him thrust deeper into you. “Then come, Y/N. Come on my cock.”

His hips were snapping madly. He was close to his release as well. You could tell by the way his brows were tightly knit or his mouth was making this sexy pout you liked so much.

You raised your hips to meet his, he viciously grabbed your thigh and dived even deeper into you, touching your cervix in the most delicious way. A scream fell from your lips.

Eyes wide opened, you woke up in your bed.  Sweat was dripping down your bed. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you rolled on the side to check your alarm and your eyes widened even more when you realized you had overslept again. Fifteen minutes was not much but it was still a lack of fifteen minutes in your morning routine before going to work.

You jumped out of bed and into the shower. The hot water helped your muscles relax. Those dreams were driving you crazy.

They had begun a few weeks ago when you were assigned to work with Ivar Ragnarsson on a very important contract. Since you spoke many languages fluently, the Ragnarssons considered you as one of the most valuable employees in their firm. When Bjorn had offered you to work alongside his little brother, you were flattered. Scared, but flattered. After all, Ivar had grown quite a reputation and the last thing you wanted was to end up like his personal punching ball.

Yet, working with him had revealed itself to be quite an adventure – and not in a bad way. Ivar was witty and passionate. He was sometimes treating you like an assistant, especially in front of his brothers but he was bearable most of the time.

The real problem were those dreams that had been haunting you during your sleep for a while now. Of course, they were mostly about sex: him taking you on your bed, in his office, against the wall, in his car…

The first time it happened you had laughed, figuring it was just a fantasy. He was quite a sight, after all. Second and third times were annoying. Then, it took place once or twice a week…and it started affecting the way you were behaving at work. A mere glance his way and you instantly became an awkward mess. Ivar would mostly get irritated, which made the situation worse and he ended up looking at you as if you had grown two heads.

If only you could make them stop but the more you wished for your crazy mind to leave you alone at night, the more you dreamt about him. So much that you had to admit to yourself you were falling for your boss. A boss who, according to flawless creatures he took to his bed, would certainly not glance at you for one second. You and your curves, you and your fat….no, definitely not his type you thought as you straightened your blouse over your wide hips a few minutes later before leaving for work.

Ivar was not there yet when you arrived at the office. You almost ran to the conference room in order to get everything ready for the presentation. It had to be perfect or he would throw a fit. Every brother would start yelling at the others and you would be blamed by Ivar in the end.

“Everything ready?”

You jumped, hearing Ivar’s voice and turned your eyes towards him. He was nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes”, you let out in a whisper.

His eyes scanned the room to check how you had everything settled. “You did well.”

“Thanks.” You squeaked nervously.

Ivar chuckled at your reaction. A shiver rand down your spine. “Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine. We worked hard on this.”

If only he knew what you were really nervous about…

His brothers arrived shortly afterwards. Thankfully, Bjorn didn’t have the glorious idea to invite his mother to join the meeting or Ivar would have already been in a very bad mood.

They all took place around the table. You started the presentation to explain your line of work. Then, Ivar introduced the society you wanted to merge with and what the Ragnarssons’ firm could benefit from it.

As you listened to Ivar’s voice, you couldn’t help looking at his hand moving on the board. His strong firm hand…

“Sill here?”

You looked up, Ivar was eying you up and down, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you crossed your arms in front of you so that Ivar would not see too much of your curves.

“Yes. Your brother asked me to get some things ready for the big meeting with your uncle tomorrow. “

You thought he would leave after that but he kept staring at you while you stood there awkwardly.

“Need some help?”

“No, no…I’m almost done, thanks.” You stammered. Ivar never offered help to anyone.

He took a few steps towards you and took one of the files you had put on the meeting table to read it. “Looks like you worked hard. Bjorn will be glad.”

He smiled. A real smile that made your heart flutter in your chest.

He let go of the file which landed back on the table and set his eyes on you. The look he gave you made your heart flutter in your chest again. Lost in his mesmerizing eyes, you noticed he was closer when he put his hand on your hip. Your breath quickened. The heat radiating from his simple touch set your body on fire.

“I’m glad as well. Good job, Y/N.”

You did not hear the words, just watched his lips moving. Those plump tempting lips. Unable to resist the temptation to taste them, you kissed him. Ivar was not surprised. He kissed your back fiercely, his hand tightening its grip on your hip. He made you walk backwards until your thighs touched the table so you could lean on it.

You hiked up your skirt and spread your legs without even realizing it. Your body was acting on its own, all too eager to succumb to desire.

Nonetheless, Ivar did not move an inch and remained still as a statue. He was watching your body like a hawk as if he trying to remember every part of it. If only he could touch you the same way he was looking at you.

“Mr Ragnarsson, please.” You whimpered helplessly.

Ivar just smirked at you and played with the hem of your skirt. Your heart was beating so fast you had the feeling it would get out of your chest any minute now. You wanted him to put an end to your misery so desperately. He knew it and apparently loved watching you squirm, all needy and turned on.

When he finally sneaked his hand under your skirt, you bit your lip to prevent yourself from eliciting a sigh of relief.

His rough fat fingers stroked your skin until they finally reached your panties. His thumb touched your clit through the soft and soaked material. Your lower body lunched forwards, your teeth dug a little deeper in your lip.

“Oh, sweet Y/N…” Ivar whispered in a mocking tone. “Don’t damage those perfect luscious lips. That would be a shame.” He let go of his crutch, his body leaning a bit more on yours. Then, he inserted his thumb between your lips before saying. “Suck this. Pretend it’s my cock. Show me what you can do.”

Your lower lips clenched around nothing at his words. His other thumb pushed against your clit once more, eliciting a whimper to fall from your lips. You started sucking his finger greedily, pretending his cock instead as he had suggested.

“Good girl.” He praised lustfully. “I knew you could do it. Show me how well you can suck my cock.”

His motions on your sensitive nub accentuated and you took his thumb deeper in your mouth. Ivar groaned but ended up retrieving his fingers from your mouth. The two of you exchanged a lustful gaze before he attacked your lips with his mouth. His pace on your clit had become more urgent now. You pulled him against you and embraced him feverishly. Ivar kept kissing and pleasing you. Your body was completely on fire and yet, you were craving for more. So, you embraced him stronger, trying to get as much contact as possible between your two bodies.

Your lower body clenched, your breath quickened and you convulsed against him as you came. Ivar did not let go and made you ride your orgasm until you went limp in his arms. He chuckled, a deep chuckle that sent shivers running down your spine. “Ready for more?”

“If you are…” You whispered against his lips, congratulating yourself at the fact that he shivered because of it.

Emboldened, your palmed him through his trousers. Ivar groaned, pushing his cloth-covered dick into your hand. You rubbed him a few times before undoing his zipper and freeing his erected shaft. It was inviting to the touch, already glistening with pre-cum. But you did not touch him this time. Instead, you hiked up your skirt even higher to reveal your already damp panties that you led slid down your legs.

Ivar licked his lips. He was looking at your body as if he wanted to devour your body in one bite. A whimper left your lips. “Ivar, please…”

“Hmm?” He took his shaft in his hands and started pleasuring himself. “Did you want something?”

“You know what I want.”

“I want you to say it.” He rasped, still playing with himself. “Come on, Y/N. You can do it.”

You tried but no sound came out of your mouth. It was as if your brain did not want to give your body what it was craving.

“Y/N, I’m waiting.”

Once again, you opened your mouth to talk but did not produce any sound.

“Y/N, talk. Y/N ! Mrs Y/L/N !”

Ivar’s snapping voice made you startle. Several pairs of eyes were watching you; some expectant, some irritated. Well, Ivar was irritated.

You felt your cheeks heating under their stares, realizing you had been sex dreaming during a professional meeting.

“I’m sorry. I was…distracted.” Ivar’s glare intensified. He was probably going to strangle you. “You were saying?”

Bjorn explained patiently which points Ivar and you would have to work on. The meeting was adjourned after that. Ivar signaled for you to wait until everyone had left. Once they had, he closed the door and advanced towards you, each step making him grunt.

“We have some changes to do and we have to do them as fast as possible.”

He explained sharply. “Tonight. 7PM sharp. Your place. I’ll bring the wine.”

Then, he got out without waiting for an answer. You stared at his head until he had disappeared, realizing after a few minutes that your boss – who you too often dream about – was going to come to your place.

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. You left as soon as you could, went to the grocery store and started cooking dinner the moment you got back home. Once you were finished, you took a shower. Your door bell rang as you were just finishing getting dressed. You threw a last glance in the mirror to check your appearance: leggings and a flowery blouse, casual but not too much. You ran to the door and took a deep breath before opening it.

Ivar had played the casual card as well, wearing dark jeans, a white shirt and a dark jacket under his usual coat.

“Please come in, Mr. Ragnarsson.” You invited him to take off his coat. “I’m going to put this in my bedroom. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

On your way back to the living room, you took some glasses in the kitchen. Ivar was on the couch, the bottle of wine was already cracked open, the files were out. As usual, Ivar did not lose any time so you started working right away, only taking a small break to each the chicken, pasta and salad you had cooked.

“This was nice. It’s been a while since I ate some real food. Drawbacks of being a busy businessman. Guess I need a real woman in my life.”

He smiled genuinely, which made you heart flutter for a second as you remembered your dream from this morning.

“Is there a man in your life enjoying your food?”

You shook your head. “Just cooking for myself.”

“That’s a shame, if you ask me.” He replied casually. “Any man would be damn happy with this. Don’t even cook for my brother Hvitserk or he won’t leave your side.” He smiled again.

Your cheeks heated under the praise. You had heard things about Ivar’s charming power but he rarely showed it at work – which was for the best or you would always be as red as a tomato.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes.” You barely whispered and shook your head to clear your mind.

“Are you sure? Because you have been quite distracted lately, just like this morning during the meeting when you completely zoned out.”

“I’m just…tired.” You answered, slightly surprised Ivar was expressing some concern over someone else, especially an employee.

“Troubled sleep?”

Your eyes widened a little. His seemed to twinkle with something else than casual curiosity and you wondered if his question had a deeper meaning for a second before answering.

“You could say that.”

“Hmmm.” He stood up with the help of his crutch. “Well, since we are done here, I’m going let you get some sleep. May I have my coat back, please?”

His question made you realize you might have stared at him for a bit too long.

“Of course.” You almost jumped up from the couch and the both of you headed towards your bedroom.

Once there, you bent over to reach his coat on your bed. When you stood up, your back bumped against Ivar’s chest. Embarrassed, you turned around abruptly and handed him the piece of cloth to your boss. He took it gently from your hands before glancing at your bed.

“So, this is the famous place where you have been having all those troubling dreams.”

Your eyes raised up abruptly to meet his. “There are some things you should definitely not talk about some topics at work, where anybody could hear what you are saying.”

He knew. Of course, he knew. That sexy asshole knew everything about everyone even though you had mentioned it once to one of your closest coworkers.

“One could say you are obsessed. Well, your mind is at least.”

He gave you a teasing smirk which caused your heart to make a somersault in your chest.

“Mr Ragnarsson, I don’t know…”

“Shhh…” He put one finger on your lips and you were reminded of your earlier dream again. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, believe me. Quite the contrary.”

He took your chin between his fingers. His eyes intensely stared at yours.

“Tell me in your dreams, what are we doing in that bed? Are we fucking nice and slow? Or are you making me sweat for it?”

“It depends.” You gasped at your own words.

“Is that so?” Ivar hummed against your lips. “How many dreams did you have, you naughty girl?”

“A few.” You whispered before Ivar took your lips ravenously.

His hands slid down your body to squeeze your plush bottom and push it against your pelvis. In response, you embraced his upper body and dug your nails in his back.

He had awoken a fire in you, you were not even aware you possessed. It was more powerful than in the dreams and so much better that you did not want to it stop.

Breathless, Ivar’s lips left your own to attack your own. Your head fell backwards, heavy pants left your mouth.

“Mr. Ragnarsson, I...”

“Ivar.” He cut you off. “I definitely want you to call me Ivar when you come on my dick.”

That elicited a deep moan to leave your mouth. You dug your nails deeper in his skin and Ivar groaned.

“You were having one this morning, hmm? What were you doing in that dream?” He pushed his erected cock against your core. “Tell me.”

“You were…you were eating me out in the conference room.”

“I like that.” The tip of his tongue tickled your neck. “I can easily picture myself buried between, your thick thighs. What do you say we reenact some of those dreams?”

He was now rubbing himself against you.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered. Nothing was more important now than being under him, screaming his name.

He delicately pushed you backwards until the back of your knees met the bed and you had no choice but to fall on it.

Ivar took off his clothes, you hastily did the same. The two of you exchanged a fiery look, trying to remember every inch of the other’s body. For once, you did not feel ashamed of yours. On the contrary, Ivar’s eyes on you were making you feel like the most desirable human being on earth.

Ivar let his crutch fall on the floor and his naked body finally met yours. You became away right then and now of what was going to happen, meaning sleeping with your boss.

Ivar sensed your discomfort. “Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Nothing bad will come out of this. I’m going to make all your dreams come true.”

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @gearhead66​ @tephi101​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @ivaraddict​ @akamaiden​ @mblaqgi​ @captstefanbrandt​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ @elenarogersbarnes13

[tra-sh]

Love’s Labors pt 3

Part three to my Ivar Ragnarson x reader series! Part four is here!

@youbloodymadgenius @red-roses-are-gonna-shine @angelofmysmalldeath

The library of King Ecbert's castle was, unsurprisingly, empty. Most of the inhabitants were either being trained for battle or standing guard around the Kings as they met. So, you found it to be the perfect hiding place when you felt the need to escape your tutor for the day. The chamber was in a calm and almost reflective state as if you were the first one to grace its halls in months. You gathered a small pile of books and scrolls that seemed the most interesting and made yourself a small nest on the ledge of a tall window. You'd purposefully tucked yourself away in the back of the library in the case that someone came looking for you. Though not many had caught onto your tricks, you knew Judith was smart and would most likely search for you here if she discovered you went missing. 

You sift through your pile, settling for a written book on medicinal plants. At least this one was illustrated. 

You settle into your spot as comfortably as you can and immerse yourself in reading. Though you were much more content to wander around the castle and cause mischief, you knew your father was especially on edge today. You'd overheard the maids gossiping about King Aelle's mistrust of Ragnar and knew if he caught you in your usual antics, you would be banished from seeing Judith and Alfred for the next month. 

The warm breeze coming from the window coupled with the book in your hands was enough to lull you to sleep, and you surely would have, were it not for the figure leaning against the dimly lit bookshelf across from you. You sit upright, blinking to let your eyes adjust. "Ivar?" You ask quietly. "What are you doing here?" 

Ivar shuffles forward with the help of his crutches, into the sunlight where you could see him better. "Same as you, I suppose. Hiding," he says with an amused tone. You laugh, closing your book and scooting forward. "How did you know I was here?" Ivar shrugs, plopping down at a small wooden table across from you. "Lucky guess." 

You rest your chin on your palm and observe the prince as he sets a book of his own on the wooden table. "I'm not sure why I am surprised to find you can read," you mock gently, biting your lip in anticipation of his response. Would he have a temper with you, as the rumors say? 

Though Ivar's jaw sets and he throws a glare in your direction, he says nothing. You wonder for a moment if you've ruined the mood, and you press again. "I didn't mean anything by it. People talk, you know," you add. "People may talk, but it is up to you to listen," Ivar replies. You let out a small chuckle and look away. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I haven't a response to that," you say quietly. 

Ivar looks back to you with a brow raised. "You, not having a remark? I think I'm surprised." A loud laugh rips from your throat before you can stop it, and you lean back against the stone window frame behind you. "It does not happen often, so I cannot advise you to get used to it, Viking." Ivar's face betrays his amusement as he turns back to the book before him. "I imagine, Saxon, there are many things about you I will not get used to," he says quietly. You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from smiling, but to no avail. The Viking prince does something to you that you have never experienced before, and it was thrilling. 

You shuffle back into your spot, picking up your forgotten book. You flip through the pages absentmindedly and steal little glances here and there at the boy beside you. You allow your mind to wander and imagine what it would feel like to be courted by someone so fierce. Ivar was a mystery to you, so much like his father. When you'd heard of their arrival, you had expected two beastly men who did not speak a lick of English nor have any common decency. Admittedly, you were almost disappointed at how pleasantly normal they were. Perhaps your dad's stories of the Northmen were just that-- stories. Figures, you shouldn't have listened to the paranoid old man. 

You glance over once more only to catch Ivar staring at you. You offer him a smile and lift your head. "Yes?" You ask, smug that you caught him looking. If Ivar notices the tone in your voice, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he asks, "You and Alfred. Are you really betrothed?" Your face falls at the topic, and you turn your attention out the window and to the courtyard below. "We are," you start slowly. "It is more so in name. My father wants me out and tamed as soon as possible, and King Ecbert was looking for a queen for his Alfred. It was a supposed perfect match," you mutter. Ivar listens carefully, his eyes scanning over the words before him. "When would you marry?" He wondered. You sigh and slump down further against the wall. "Most likely when Alfred is crowned King. If my father had his way, I'm sure it would be far sooner." Ivar seems to consider your words for a moment. You lull your head to the side, eyeing the young man. "Why do you ask?" 

He shrugs, his eyes not leaving the page. "Curious about Saxon affairs," he offers lamely. You sit upright and frown. "Is that all?" You wonder quietly. This time, it's Ivar who turns to you with a smug face. "Is that all you want it to be?" 

A heavy silence blankets the library as the two of you stare at one another. Was there another reason? What were you hoping for? For Ivar to live up to the Viking rumors and kidnap you, hauling you off to some unknown land? 

You're the first to break eye contact as you lean back into the wall. "I suppose so," you say softly. 

You hear the creaking of wood and a shuffling sound, followed by the repeating tapping of Ivar's crutches meeting the stone floor. You turn your head in time to see Ivar towering over you, looking down to meet your gaze. "For someone who causes such trouble," Ivar begins, reaching out to grab a stray piece of your hair. "You are a terrible liar, princess." Your face feels hot and you splutter incoherently while Ivar chuckles. "I am not lying!" Your voice betrays you, rising above your normal pitch. Ivar gives you a knowing grin and you snap your mouth shut. His eyes flit back and forth from your own as if searching for something. "I am leaving tomorrow. Will you really not tell me the truth before I go?" Ivar asks finally. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare up at him. Does he leave tomorrow? But what about Ragnar? Your face must have betrayed your sorrow because Ivar's gaze softens as he looks at you. "What if I ask nicely?" He adds. 

You can't help laughing at this and shake your head. "It wouldn't suit you, Ivar." 

He stares at you and it brings back that strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that only he seems to cause. He reaches a hand out and grips your jaw experimentally as if examining you. He does not hold your chin as a lover would, but more like a farmer observing livestock. It sends a strange thrill up your spine, to be so fiercely scrutinized by someone like him. Something dark and mischievous flashes in his eyes as he looks at you. "Give me permission, princess," Ivar says in a low voice. It's so quiet that you almost don't register that he spoke. You swallow as your eyes search his. "For what?" Your response is barely above a whisper, you know your voice would betray you if you spoke up. You don't need his response. You're not so oblivious to what he wants, but the tumultuous side of you wanted him to say it out loud. To hear him say he desired you, in the same way you did him.

But Ivar is wise to your tricks and doesn't speak. His grip on your face lightens, and for a moment you're disappointed in thinking he's walking away. Suddenly, his thumb hooks your chin and drags you towards him, earning a small squeal of surprise from you. His mouth is hot over yours as he kisses you and it sends small tingles throughout your body. Your hands come up to grab fistfuls of his shirt, trying to pull him flush against you. One of his hands tangles in your hair, gripping and pushing you closer. You feel his free hand slide under your dress and grab your thigh, hooking your knee and dragging you forward so he's nestled between your thighs.

Your head spins as Ivar kisses you with such a passion as if this was the first and last time you would see each other. The thought bothered you, and you found yourself whining into the kiss. This seems to spur him on as Ivar lets out a low growl, nipping your bottom lip with his sharp teeth. Then he breaks away, ending the kiss just as quickly as it began. You lean after him lamely, mourning the sudden loss of his warmth. Ivar steps back and looks at you with such a savage look of pride on his face that you feel something curl in your stomach. "Until next time, princess." 

His fingers trail across the frame of your face one last time before he drops his hand and starts to leave. "You would leave me here like this?" Your voice trembles as your eyes sting. He can't just leave you here like this, right? Ivar spares one last glance over his shoulder and rakes his eyes up and down your figure. "When I come back, you will not have to worry anymore." 

And just like that, he leaves you sitting in the library alone as the sun sets behind you.