#ivar x oc

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

Vikings FanFiction

MASTERLIST

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

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[thebadboyfanclub]

She Is A Lady (Ivar x Targaryen Reader)

Ivar has always been such an interesting character to me so imagine how delighted I was when I got my first request for him. Also I would like to announce that I will not be accepting any more requests for daemon Targaryen as of right now cause i have written so many and I have also others that I must write. Enjoy!

Y/n) had always been an adventurous character, ever since she could walk she would wobble away from everyone, curiosity fuelling her little chubby legs, when she got a little older and was able to get on her dragon, Rhaenyras's heart raced as she waited patiently for her daughter to come home.

She was her father's daughter, stubborn, brave, and resilient, “the noble she-dragon” was her title when she would often be referred to in the songs of barbs, she would smirk under her cloak as she would often cover herself to visit the small taverns.

When war called for her (y/n) defended her mother with the fierceness of a dozen warriors, however, the pain of losing her brothers one by one, her dear Daemon who taught her so many things, her grandmother Rhaenys, she could not risk the death of her mother.

“We can still fight dear”

“Mother our troops have fought fiercely for so long, most of our men are dead, we need an alliance”

“What if they kill you?”

“Then I’ll let my brothers know how much you love them and we will be waiting for you, my queen”

Rhaenyra overcomes with emotion fell into her daughters' arms in desperation, her precious little girl was now grown up. (Y/n) hugged her mother back with the same amount of love, she hated the fact that she had to leave her mother's side, but this was their last resort.

Rhaenyra pulled away slightly, her fingers reaching for the few strands of Dark hair that were entangled between her Targaryen silver hair, a small token she had inherited from her late father.

“Promise me you will come back to me”

“I won’t come alone, I’ll come with an army to protect you”

-

(Y/n) had searched for inhabited land beyond the wall for a full day, the sun had been tucked away and replaced by the moon when she noticed a land lit by torches, it would unwise to make a haste landing without a warning first, for all she knew this land could be home for cannibals or demon worshippers.

(Y/n) commanded her dragon to fly a bit lower, circling the city to make her presence known, not only did the people notice her, as they had gathered around for supper to celebrate their victory, they rose from their seats to follow the beast that appeared to make landing a bit further down.

“I am unharmed, well… except the dragon”

“Who are you?”

“Princess (y/n) Targaryen, I come from kings landing”

The men came to a standstill with the princess, both parties waiting for a sudden move so they can “defend” their own, you could only hear the sound of the fire from their torches and their breaths created a mist from the cold.

“I understand this is sudden for you but I have come in peace, I have been traveling on dragon back since dawn, it would be certainly easier for me to explain after I get some type of food if you could be so kind to offer one”

The dim light was not enough to reveal the contraption Ivar was using to stand up on his legs, his eyes piercing through hers in such intensity that (y/n) felt like the man was trying to look into her brain, still she did not waver, she challenged him with her strong look she beheld on those intriguing hues, her flame could be identified from a mile away, this was not a meek princess, she came flying in a beast and stood by it proudly, she was a true warrior sent from the Gods.

“Fine, princess. Leave your sword and dragon here and then you can follow us”

Of course, he knew she was lying, he saw the sword that rested on her hip the minute she got on the ground, intrigued by the astonishing beast she came with he decided to offer her sanctuary.

To his surprise, the princess took out her sword before she came on one knee with it laying flat on her palms.

“This has been given to me by a beloved family member, I do not wish to leave it unattended but I trust you with it, Ser”

“Ivar, Ivar the boneless”

Her face showed exactly how puzzled she was by the nickname the name claimed that he was holding, howbeit she did not have time to question it for long since from the first step Ivar took (y/n) picked up on the metal sound and observed just how stiff his walking as she realized that the man was probably barely able to stand up, his entire weight was supported by a delicates design of metal that went all the way up to his thigh.

Ivar smirked at the sight of the woman offering her sword, she seemed smart enough according to her calculated moves, the sword felt light in his hand as it shined under the moonlight, arrogantly he pointed the tip of the sword directly under her chin, his ego allowing him to consider that he had the upper hand.

(Y/n) gently placed the weapon away from her face and rose to her feet, she had been nothing but gracious she would not allow herself to be disrespected.

“Lead the way, my lord”

She simply suggested, she concealed her facial expression well though the devil was always in the details, Ivar could see her hands forming into fists.

“Welcome to Kattegat princess”

He turned his back on her while she took small steps to stay behind him, she did not want to offend him by walking faster so her pace was slow enough to let him walk.

(Y/n)s eyes traveled around everything, people’s faces, their clothing, their tables, their homes, it seemed like everyone was living a simple life, it reminded her of the roads of kings landing.

Ivar could hear the whispers from his subjects, they were all taken back by Ivars sudden kindness, and they all expected him to kill her on the spot, he had to admit that the idea did go through his head, yet something in him told him to let her join their feast, maybe it was the fearsome dragon, maybe her alluring appearance.

Alas, (y/n) took a seat next to him, and quite swiftly the servants gave her a plate full of food and a goblet with ale, the chicken was warm and the ale did the trick of warming her up as everyone danced around the fire, a faint smile played on her lips while Ivar observed her.

“So what brings you here princess?”

“War I am afraid”

“War?”

“In my homeland, we have one king that rules over the land, my family has been been in that position for over a century, yet it is the very first time that a woman-my mother- is to assume authority, that did not go well with her half brother”

“So you ran?”

“I certainly have not, my brothers were killed, my stepfather, my grandmother… all gone”

Ivar felt sadness rush through his chest at how the princess's chin quivered, her hushed tone trembling as she uttered the last two words, her doe eyes misting in the firelight, Ivar was not known for his empathy, still, he reached for her hand under the table to give it a slight squeeze.

“My mother was killed by my father's first wife, she released an arrow while my mother was walking away”

“How did you respond?”

“Oh I’ve tried to kill her several times”

“It is quite macabre, how the family is always the one that causes the biggest pain”

“I suppose, if you are not running then what brought you here?”

“Desperation, countless battles have taken most of our men, I was hoping to look for allies”

“You described it perfectly, desperation is the only thing that could make someone believe that another army of men would come to die for you”

“My mother is all I have left, wouldn’t you do anything to bring your own back to life?”

“Definitely”

“It might sound cruel but forgive me for saying I do not crave to understand your pain”

She was honest Ivar gave (y/n) that much, they sat there gawking at one another, she stood tall, she did not waver under his eyes as most people did, she showed no signs of fear, she did not care about anything, and let’s not even start of how ambitious she appeared to be.

Ivar took a swig of his ale without looking away from those distinguish violet hues, he recalled how the prophets have whispered to him of a queen of a faraway land.

“Your queen will help you fly amongst the clouds, you’ll know lands beyond the eye”

He had brushed it off as a riddle, but now he started to understand that it was the only time the prophet meant every word, could she- princess (y/n) Targaryen- be his queen?

There, for only the briefest moment and for the first time he felt the warm sensation of his heart thumping at the mere sight of her smile, like Freya had come from the clouds to place her cloak around the two youngsters. For so long Ivar had brushed off the idea of love or marriage, sometimes he would even the joke that the goddess herself has cursed him or turned his back on him, cruelly denying him the blessing of a true loves match.

“I cannot throw my men to a war over lands I know nothing about”

“I figure that we will ride tomorrow”

“Ride?”

“We can strap you up on Daylight and you will be safe as a passenger”

“You mean I go up in that?”

“Hey, she is a lady”

Ivar cackled at her correction regarding her dragon. It had been a while since one was so casual with him, that treated him with kindness without fearing his outbursts, sure her ignorance of not exactly knowing his antics had something to do with it, albeit Ivar thoroughly enjoyed her presence, her wit and pride complimented her.

As (y/n) bit her bottom lip her gaze went over to his legs, she wanted to ask as silence overtook them, but she debated if it was the right decision.

“It’s not an injury, I was never able to walk”

“Brittle bones, the masters in my land had informed me of such condition. Back in the day, they used to kill babes that seemed to hold such an illness”

“Oh that is what happens here as well, my mother forbade it”

“She sounds like a lovely woman”

“She was”

(Y/n) could deeply empathize with the look that took over Ivars handsome face, how his expression clouded for just a moment, how his jaw tensed and his lips stiffened to a thin line, she could tell that Ivar was not looking at anyone particularly, he was reminiscing as moments that they shared passed through his ice blue hues.

Ivar was pulled back to reality by her gentle hand resting on his thing, usually, he would shove away anyone that dared to touch his legs, but surprisingly he just allowed his hand to find hers and rest on top of it, a part of him yearning for the warmth of her touch, her genuine interest and zest.

“I am certain she is very proud of you, I understand you two probably shared a very close bond”

“We did, but let’s not dwell on such events, you must rest I do not want the rider of such a large beast to fall asleep while they hold my life in the reigns of a dragon”

They smiled at one another, a grin that behind it was resting countless words left unsaid. Ivar was a stranger to the goodwill of people, although with her, as his eyes rested upon her features he felt like his anger vanished, like a wave that held her name washed through his experience with cruelty and even his brothers belittling him was now gone.

“This feels strange”

“I agree princess, but I do not want it to go away”

“Me neither”

She whispered, her eyes lowering down to the ground to avoid the foreign sensation that was Ivars presence. Ivar allowed her to retreat, as he looked around it dawned on him that a few of the others had also taken it to become viewers of their encounter, he could not blame them.

With some difficulty he rose from his seat with the goblet of Ale in his hand, demanding the attention of everyone to realign with their leader.

“It is with great honor that I present to you the princess (y/n) Targaryen, the future queen of her land, she has come to us with a request for an alliance, to fight alongside her army for a land we do not know. Tomorrow I will ride with the princess to see for myself that foreign land, as well as to marry her”

“What?”

“To unite our kingdoms, to rule by her side in her homeland and for her to rule by my side in mine, to give us a reason to help her. Raise your glass, to your future queen”

Requests are open!

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

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

[miss-madness67]

It Is You (Ivar The Boneless)

Ivar the Boneless drabble

Imagine you are the one that catches Ivar's eyes, not Freydis.

The crowd is overly excited by the army’s return to Kattegat, they had finally avenged the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. I had not taken long to recruit the great heathen army, and less to decimate the Saxons. Most of the hassle had been travel discrepancies and what to do after. Now with all that finally over, Vikings have a chance to celebrate victory. It is no surprise, then, when the great hall is completely packed with drunk people in the late hours of the night. The celebration of the great heathen army’s conquest is something to brag about, and Ivar the Boneless is doing precisely that.

You have never seen the Viking prince in person, considering that you are not a shieldmaiden, and could not go to avenge Ragnar. Also, you grew up in Ringerike, not Kattegat, thus you never encountered him during your childhood. You have heard the stories, though, not only the most recent ones about his victory against the Saxons, but also those speaking of his cruelty and quick temper. And so when you came to welcome your brother back from fighting in England, it was not in your plan to cross paths with Ivar the Boneless. However, once you entered the great hall, your destiny was entangled with his.

He is not the only man that stares at you more than he should, but his gaze is so intense that you can not shake it off. It burns through your skin like fire, stealing all of your attention from your brother’s words. When you look up, Ivar is already glancing your way. He does not smile or try to approach you like the rest of the men, he just stares.  His look is heated but not loaded with anger, it is something else. No one has ever gazed at you like that, it has such desire and amazement. It makes you feel like a goddess. So, while your brother is still talking, you leave his side to introduce yourself to the cruel prince. That is the first step that changes your life.

Tags: @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[underscorewriting]

Could you do one where the reader is Lagertha younger sister and in a relationship with ivar the boneless

this. this is the one I might be the most excited for to write!

Thank you for your request :)

May the gods forbid.

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Language probably?

Words: 2.425

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was. He wasn't supposed to happen. The gods were playing tricks on her, this couldn't be real. She wanted to hate him, hate how he despised her sister. He was a smartass, an arrogant little boy with anger issues if something didn't go his way.

One son of Ragnar was her greatest fear for her younger sister. Ivar. He was unpredictable and even though the girl was taught how to fight, Lagertha knew that she would not be good enough to protect herself from him. That was the main reason why Lagrtha forbid her sister to leave her side. Lagertha was always very protective of her, even more when the sons of Aslaug and Ragnar started planning to kill her or hurt her the same way she hurt them by killing their mother.

So one night when the girl was upset and searched for a place to hide away, she walked into the woods. Flokis and Helgas place always brought her the most comfort when her and Lagertha fought, those were the times she thought the girl was quietly in her chamber. Sitting down in a small meadow, she leaned back, watching the stars, inhaling the fresh air.

Rustling behind her made her hand quickly shoot to the dagger she kept on her thigh. "Well don't you look cozy." The cold voice of the prince made her flinch as she sat up completely, her body being on alert if he tried anything. "What do you want, Ivar?" The exhaustion from was as clear in her voice and how she said his name as it was on her face. She didn't want to live like this. To live a life that held nothing for her, since she wasn't allowed to do much. Even her nephew Björn was always watching over her when he was here.

Tilting his head Ivar studied her face for a second before crawling over to her and settling down besides her. "I decided I won't kill you." He pursed his lips looking over at her a playful glint in his eyes. "Not yet at least." A small smile pulled at her lips as she averted her face. "Ubbe told us about how Lagertha screamed at you. She was always quiet..." A stern glare from the girl made the boy hold his hands up in defense, a small smirk on his face as he saw her hand moving away from the dagger, finally starting to relax.

Ivar was a simple man, his plan to kill Lagertha was only left uncompleted due to his attraction to her little sister and now having her here in front of him was something he didn't know he longed for. Looking back up at the sky she sighed in frustration. "How is the world out there? You traveled didn't you?" Sitting up straight she turned to him.

The young princes eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled slightly. "The world is huge, it has so much to see." pouting slightly the girl cursed her sister as she listened to Ivars stories. He told her all about Wessex and the people there, how different their belief are from theirs, which she as well found hilarious. As the night turned colder they took the path back to their home. Not once did they stop talking about what he saw out there and what she would want to see once she'll get out there.

"Gods, I want to see the world, Ivar." Smiling softly she twirled and inhaled the fresh air. Watching her Ivar felt his heart swell at the sight of her carefreeness. "I want to show it to you." His tone was serious and when she looked at him she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Ivar..." Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking her head she sat down in the dirt near a haystack.

"We can't. Lagertha would never allow this. She wouldn't allow us, Ivar..." She was desperate for him to understand that this would never happen, but he was not having any of it. He would take what he want and if he wanted to have her, then he was going to have her. "Your sister does not control you, nor does anyone else. You should be able to live your life how you want it to be, the gods forbid that you won't live it to the fullest."

Looking around she kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll meet with you in the meadow tomorrow night, don't be late!" She turned around as she quickly ran to her chambers, smiling brightly at him before entering. The young prince couldn't help but grin at her actions, feeling a little giddy himself.

After that night they started sneaking around at night, only sharing small meaningful glances at each other when they passed one another or during a feast. Soon Lagertha grew suspicious, but not because she noticed any of the glances, no, it was because suddenly her sister started training more, stopped questioning her about being able to travel. It was as if she suddenly stopped caring about all that.

Ubbe offered to train with her, Lagertha trusted him so she allowed him to take her sister to the woods during the day as well. Ivar told his brothers about her and how he wanted to see her at any costs as much as he could. In the woods the four of them would train, Ivar didn't trust Sigurd close to her, due to disgusting glances he threw her way when she was merely visiting them over the past years.

She soon found herself growing closer to the brothers and feeling accepted by them. Freedom, was so close she could almost taste it. Walking with Ivar at night was her newly found escape, after he got his greave done for his legs and fixed up his crutches they could even hold hands while walking. Him rubbing her hand soothingly with his thumb, placing ocationally kisses onto her palm , whenever she talked about something that upset her. He enjoyed listening to her almost as much as her gentle kisses he would get to feel whenever his pain was unbearable.

They balanced each other nicely and after a few months the word marriage appeared more and more in their talks about their future. The girl was scared of how her sister would react to her and the youngest Ragnarsson being inseparable and spent every minute they could together.

But she didn't need to tell her, because one day during her and Ubbes training lessons, while she was play fighting with Ivar . Lagertha walked up the path, none of them noticed her sharp eyes watching. Ivar had her pinned down, laughing while she tried to push him of before rolling over and sitting on his stomach, having the prince at her mercy making her grin down at him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk were watching them, drinking ale and laughing at what the other said. Lagertha was disappointed in her, why didn’t she tell her that they were lovers? She continues watching them and filled an old familiar pain in her heart. Ivar was holding her sister now, not strong enough to hurt but strong enough to let her know he had control over the situation but her sister seemed completely fine with it as she leaned into his chest looking up at him with gentle eyes and a loving smile.

Ivars smile matched hers and in this exact moment Lagertha realized that she kept her sister protected from the most beautiful thing out there, a thing she herself shared with Ragnar even after his death. Love. Ivar was similar to Ragnar in many ways, but with her in his arms he resembled his father more than anyone would guess. Of course, she didn’t want her sister to be with someone like Ivar, he was dangerous, but if it is him that makes her as happy as she is right now, then that is all she would ask for.

Returning to her throne back in the great hall Lagertha couldn’t stop thinking about how she should’ve noticed the signs. Ivar was more around than he used to be, it wasn’t his normal behavior. Besides he was being a lot kinder than usual. As Torvi entered the great hall she noticed how lost in thoughts the queen was. „What is the matter?“ She said as she walked next to to sit down by her side. „Did you know about Ivar and my sister?“ Lagertha turned to Torvi catching the younger woman smile apologetic. „Ubbe said I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I apologize.“

As she heard giggles and laughter she could tell the four of them were coming closer, she prepared herself to confront her sister about this. But how was she supposed to? She was spying on her when she found out, not having had one good reason to walk out there in the woods except to check up on her actually being there. Ubbe was the first one to walk into the great hall, he noticed something was up when Torvi didn’t greet him right away. The girl was still outside giggling and whispering. Her whispers could be heard in the whole hall. Quietness settled in as the last three of them walked in, the girl walking a little behind but smiling brightly whenever Ivar would turn around to see if she was still there with him.

„Hello sister!“ The girl greeted and smiles brightly at Lagertha. The queen did not respond, making her feel uneasy as she glanced toward Ubbe, who sighed quietly looking down. Instantly the girl knew what was going on. Panicking she walked closer to her, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked back to Ivar in reassurance. „It isn’t like you think…“ Lagerthas raised an eyebrow making the girl feel even more uneasy. „Well then how is it? Because it looks like my sister is keeping secrets from me. Keeping secrets because she thinks I don’t want to see her happy or loved.“

The girl gasped softly wondering just how much her sister had seen. „Lagertha, I promise you I do not have any intentions behind my bond with your sister. It’s about her not about you or how you killed my mother.“ Ivar broke the silence looking at Lagertha with pure hatred but his eyes seemed to soften when he looked over at the girl standing close to her. The girl flinched at Ivars harsh words. The woman on the throne couldn’t stop herself from laughing. „I did not even think about that for a second Ivar, because you wouldn’t even be able to.“

„Sister, Ivar would be capable of ruling over Kattegat just as well as you are. His ideas for this village are incredible. If you would just listen to them you’d see how capable he would be to do everything he wanted to.“ With wide eyes the girl just realized what she said, covering her mouth she looked down. „I’m sorry I spoke out of tune.“ Lagertha studied her and saw a lot of how she acted because of Ragnar in her sister, smiling slightly. As her eyes wandered to Ivar, she caught him smirking, his eyes glistening with pride and love as his eyes wandered over her figure.

Getting of her throne Lagertha stopped only in front of her. Her hand went up to cup her cheek, making the girl flinch. The boy tried to crawl over to them making sure the girl stayed unharmed, but Ubbe held him back making the young boy fight against his hold. „He makes you happy, doesn’t he?“ Lagerthas voice was quiet as she smiled down at her sister softly. Nodding her head the girl looked back up at her. „More than anything.“ Her eyes held a sincerity that the woman saw rarely. She was a bit taken aback by her truthfulness. Of course, she was upset about it having to be Ivar. Hvitserk would’ve been easier to accept but sadly that’s not what happened. „How could it be him, he is cruel and no good for you, my sweet sister…“ She could see Ivar lowering his head, knowing that Lagertha was right about him being cruel, not being good enough for the girl.

„He wants to show me the world. He isn’t cruel, he is just easy to upset and in pain, Lagertha…“ Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how bad Ivars legs had been these past weeks. „The gods are cruel to him sometimes, so I pray. I pray to them to stop it and he starts to feel better. He is not a cruel man, Lagertha. He just isn’t!“ Her hands were trembling as she clenched them into fists. Lagertha could only stare at her in shock. For how long was their relationship kept a secret from her? „How long did you feel like this about him?“ She grew angry for being held in the dark that long. „All of this started a little over six months ago…“ The girls head hung low as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Looking at her hand she noticed a little mark on her ring finger looking over at Ivar she saw the same small mark on the same finger. „You’re thinking about marriage…“ She gasped quietly taking a step back from her sister. „I accept your decision, but I do not support it. Though I will give you my blessing only because I haven’t seen you happy like this in ages. You are my little sister and I love you and I want you to be loved. As much as I don’t like Ivar, I have to say that he truly seems to love you and care for you.“ Smiling widely the girl hugged her sister tightly, throwing her arms around her. „Thank you!“ She repeated those words until she turned to Ivar grinning at him shyly.

Ivar walked over to her cupping her cheek before he kissed her forehead and leaned his against hers. „I told it would work out somehow, my love. May the gods forbid anything would part us until we both are on our way to dine with the gods in Valhalla.“

Lagertha couldn’t fight the smile as she watched the both of them. Even though she disliked Ivar, she was certain he would treat her right. Maybe even better than Ragnar treater her. She could tell in his smile, in his eyes, in every action towards her sister, that he adored her.

[eu-nicola]

vikings x fem!oc

It was going to be with reader but I needed to give it a name

my first language isn’t English and I didn't correct this

summary: vikings brothers have a sister who can control dragons and has powerful magic (anon request)

The baby Freyja had been born with an eye the same as that of a snake with a different color and pupil shape, it was thought that it was because of her ancestors and that it was a way of proving that in the future she was going to be a strong and powerful as her father was. And they weren’t wrong.

In one of Ragnar's trips he found a somewhat strange egg, larger than a normal one with scales and green in color, he took it and took it to his sweet daughter, this was going to be the compensation gift for being gone so long. The day her father returned home the little girl was playing away from everyone while they were looking for her, she didn't care and continued with her game because she thought it was funny how she could move the twigs in the air and throw them far away she even try to try with a big stone but it was too big for someone so tiny.

When they finally found her, her mother didn't realize what she was doing, she just told her it was time to stop playing and took her inside so she could see her father, he welcomed her with open arms and a kiss on the cheek. When the girl began to ask him a thousand questions about where he had been he immediately smiled and took out his gift, Freyja was surprised to see her new gift, it was beautiful for her.

Over time the girl realized that it was not a normal egg and saw a small dark green dragon come out of there, just like its shell, she loved this but she did not want to tell anyone because it was her secret, it was her dragon and if she said so maybe they would want to take it from her and she didn't want to, so she decided to hide it in a cave that she had seen once with her father and brothers not so far from the place but that no one ever went to.

Months passed and even in such a short time the dragon had grown immensely, Freyja, only 6 years old, escaped every day without anyone seeing her and brought the dragon something to eat, she always convinced a prisoner to follow her and she took them there for the dragon she had called "Arrax", certainly she was never afraid to take a prisoner because she knew that they couldn't do anything to her because she had her dragon taking care of her.

One morning Freyja was trying to get a prisoner and escape but for the first time her brothers saw her and instead of telling her something they just followed her to the cave with the prisoner being sure that the man was not going to do something before they killed but it was not necessary because they were surprised when they saw the dragon eat the man in one bite. Immediately the girl noticed the presence of her brothers and smiled at them as if what she had done was a little game. "brothers", the little girl yelled, she came to hug them and at that moment Freyja introduced Arrax to them and she tell them that he was a good pet and very pretty, when her half-brother Bjorn wanted to push her away, she immediately made him fly away the air raising it as she had once done with that twig but now she had been able to do it with it.

"Don't try to take me away from Arrax again." she told them.

At first everyone was so surprised at the beast that even they who are not afraid of anything for a moment were afraid of the dragon. For now no one was going to say anything but maybe in the future when his sister became a woman they would be able to use the dragon for their own purposes. Without speaking they all looked at each other and it seemed that they agreed even Freyja herself that she was already eager to ride the dragon and feed it with her enemies.

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings- Angst, violence, death, smut.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3113

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Masterlist

Chapter 14 - Final Chapter

He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.

He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.

One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.

A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.

“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”

He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.

When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.

Coming home. Too dangerous now.

See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.

He texts back quickly.

Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.

As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.

Always and forever, no matter how far apart.

———————

He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.

”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.

Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”

Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”

“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”

Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”

“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”

———————

He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.

It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.

The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.

“Alone?”

“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.

“I missed you so much, Liet.”

“Fuck I missed you so much too.”

They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.

Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”

“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”

Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.

It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.

When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.

“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.

They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.

“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”

“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”

“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”

Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.

“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”

“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”

A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”

A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”

“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”

Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.

She is ready now.

Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.

“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”

He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.

“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”

His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.

The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.

“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”

“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.

She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”

“Tell me more about him, baby.”

They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.

“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”

“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”

“8 hours.”

“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.

Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.

He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”

Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.

————————-

9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.

They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.

“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”

He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”

They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.

—————————

His phone beeps dead on 11am.

Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.

He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.

“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.

“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”

“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”

Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”

Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.

Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”

——————-

Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.

But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.

He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.

His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.

“Liet?”

She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.

“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.

————

The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.

“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”

“I can see that.”

“Shall I take the shot?”

“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.

Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”

—————

Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”

Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.

“In the next life, love,” she says

“Always and forever,” he replies.

She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.

———-

“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”

Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.

———-

Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.

The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.

He will be the best father to their son

For her.

His beautiful Liet.

FIN.

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & Found. Chapter 13.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: making amends is difficult, but some help is always welcome.

A\n: I decided to do this one with Aslaug and Ivar POV. Love a mama bear 🙂

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @pieces-by-me @luvmeijii @fairypitou

-----------------------------------------

Aslaug POV:

Her sons left to train early in the morning, which gave the queen some time to think. She took notice of how Ivar was more sullen and irritable, being more silent than usual. Ivar was a moody person, but he hid his sadness poorly from her. Ivar was the person she loved the most, seeing something upsetting him made her restless.

This time, Aslaug knew very well what was making Ivar sad, even if he didn’t outright say it. He was missing Revna. She never showed up again after that day, Asalug never even heard of her since, not from Ivar, Ubbe nor any of the slaves. She could very well have vanished from Kattegat entirely for all she knew.

For a while, Aslaug hoped that whatever interest Ivar had in Revna would wane with the absence, but that didn’t seem to happen. That girl was the cause of his sudden sadness just as she was the cause of his joy, like the seer said to her and it terrified Aslaug. Of course she wanted Ivar to have love, she wanted him to be happy, but there was a part of her that considered the possibility that would never be the case. Just how many marriages she knew were out of love? Certainly not hers. Ragnar never loved her, he wanted her to breed and if not for that, she would just be another of the many women he fucked. She tried to gain his love, but that was for Lagertha only; she tried to search for comfort in the Harbard’s arms, but that didn’t work out for her. She would rather Ivar didn’t go through any of that because the pain was blinding and never truly healed.

But if the Gods willed it, there was nothing she could do. For as much as she wished Ivar would just forget about Revna, seeing his beloved son sad was something she could not bear. He already suffered enough as it was, if she would bring him some happiness, Aslaug would do everything in her power to keep the girl close.

She left her house shortly before her sons just like she did for her walks, but this time she decided to pay a visit to her old friends and their new daughter.

Ivar POV:

Ivar was angry for having argued with Revna but more than that, he missed her. He never had someone that cared for what he had to say and enjoyed his company, no one other than his mother or Floki would willingly spend time with him, no one other then them treated him like he wasn’t a burden and a mark of shame; Ivar felt that she listened to him and he didn't want to give that up. It gave him a bit more confidence that Revna hadn't outright dismissed him when he last spoke to her. That gave him hope that maybe she didn’t hate him entirely and their friendship was salvageable.

For now, however, he still had the Sigurd issue to deal with. He knew it was pointless to try to get anything out of him, but he didn’t have to. All he had to do was get Sigurd at the right time and never a better one than training time.

The brothers went to training and things proceeded as usual. Hvitserk always looked like he was having a good time when training, Ubbe always paying attention to what they were doing and Sigurd pretending Ivar didn’t exist.

As they progressed, it came the time to train against each other. Each brother went a round against each other, but when it came the time for Ivar and Sigurd, which usually was skipped since their tensions, Ivar didn't let that pass:

“Won’t you fight with me, Sigurd?”

“Why would I fight a cripple? There’s no point to it.”

“Why don't you try it?”

“There's no reason for it. Cripples don't go to battle.”

“Then there should be no problem for you. Or are you afraid, Sigurd? Are you afraid of me?”

Sigurd turned silent for a while. Hvitserk too was silent, he never liked to get between their fights and whenever one was about to start he became quiet enough one could forget he was even there at all. It was always Ubbe that deescalated the arguments, though even for him it was becoming harder each year.

“You don’t come, because you’re scared of me. You know you cannot beat me.”

Sigurd smirked and leaving his shield behind he went at Ivar full of confidence with his axe. Ivar quickly blocked, the two kept on their ‘training’ but the force each of them used was way too much for just a train and both their oldest brothers watched in dead silence. Hvitserk was almost frozen in place as he waited for Ubbe to put a stop to it before they killed each other while Ubbe watched each and every movement with wide eyes.

Next they knew, both Ivar and Sigurd were on the ground, their weapons left behind in favor of their fists. It was somewhat of a relief for Ubbe and Hvitserk as they couldn’t kill each other as easily with their hands as they could with their weapons. Ubbe gave them a time to settle their differences, before putting a stop to it.

“Enough you two. You are not children anymore, stop this.” Spoke Ubbe authoritatively as he grabbed Ivar by his clothes to pry him away from Sigurd, both of them bloody and covered in mud.

Aslaug POV:

Aslaug reached Floki’s home. The boatbuilder was the first one she saw, he was carefully choosing the trees but he instantly took notice of her.

“Floki.”

“Aslaug. It’s been long enough.”

“It's true. The years passed too fast.”

“Or too slow.”

Aslaug smiled, but that didn’t reach her eyes. In a way, her sons grew up apparently in the blink of an eye, in the other, the years were dragging and lonely for her.

“Has Ivar been here recently?”

“It has been a while.”

“I'll be straight to the point. I've noticed Ivar became close to the girl you adopted, who is she?”

Floki was always one to not tell the entire truth and Aslaug could feel he was hiding crucial information about that girl. She was sure something was really off with that matter because Floki would never bring an outsider to his home.

“Helga brought her from the last raid and has been teaching her since.”

“Is she a Christian?”

“No. She wouldn't be here otherwise.”

Floki’s face twitched slightly. Even after all those years he still hated the Christians with the same fire. It was good to hear she wasn't one of them, but not precisely a relief.

Aslaug wouldn't ask the why of her presence, that was pretty clear. After Angrboda’s death, Helga had been slowly losing her mind, her grief was obvious to anyone that met her before and as her fertile years passed, Aslaug could only imagine her desperation for another child grew more than what she could handle.

“She must be a curious creature if both Helga and Ivar took a liking to her. I would like to see her.”

Aslaug wasn't really requesting as much as she was politely informing, both of them knew it, Floki looked at her oddly, but didn’t object.

“She’s with Helga.”

Floki pointed towards his house, watching curiously as Aslaug made her way. She soon saw Helga sitting with the girl on the bench, teaching her with the runes.

“Aslaug.” Helga greeted her, surprised to say the least.

“Helga. I see that you're teaching the girl.”

“I am. Revna is very dedicated and learned very fast. Ivar helped her a lot as well.” Helga answered proudly, holding the girl by her shoulders.

Aslaug had her attention on the girl, almost ignoring Helga. The girl unnerved her. At first glance, other than her obvious different appearance and shorter stature, she was like any other girl her age, yet there was something off with her that the queen couldn’t put her finger on. Aslaug wanted to believe it was her concern with Ivar’s happiness clouding her judgement, but her gut instinct screamed otherwise.

“Surely she must be grateful for the opportunity the Gods gave her.” Aslaug said, her eyes not leaving the girl and equally, the girl looked back at her curiously and cautiously.

“She adapted well. Floki wants her to attend to the sacrifices so she can ask for the Gods' blessings.”

“It’s only appropriate. If they choose her to be your daughter, they’ll accept her offerings.”

Aslaug replied to Helga, but her attention was still on the girl. The next she spoke was clearly addressed to Revna with just a hint of an order.

“I’m sure Ivar will greatly appreciate you engaging in our ways. He’s very devout and you two seem to have gotten along well, am I right?”

“Yes… I think. I hope.”

“So do I. The Gods may look favorably at you, in which case, I trust I’ll see you with Ivar more frequently.”

“If he wishes. Ivar is well now. He does not… need my visit anymore.”

“He has invited you to our home, that’s not to be taken lightly. Our families have been friends for years and he seems to want to be your friend. Wouldn’t you want that?”

“I… yes. I would.”

“That’s great. I’m sure Ivar will speak to you soon.” Aslaug said with a faux smile that was mostly condescending before turning her attention to Helga “Maybe they’ll make good friends.”

Aslaug didn’t want to break the old friendship she had with Helga, it was the sole reason she didn’t take the girl to live in her home with Ivar for as long as he pleased. She and Helga did some catching up, to which the girl remained dead silent.

When Aslaug returned home and saw Ivar and Sigurd dirty and bloody, she knew she made the right call. Later that day she gently nudged Ivar to go talk with the girl. She was certain things would work out for him.

Ivar POV:

Early in the morning Ivar headed to Floki's home wanting to catch up with Revna. Ivar wasn't one to give up, but having his mother's incentive gave him more courage.

This time, Ivar didn't make an effort to hide his presence as he saw Revna who quickly took notice of him. She waited for him and when he was close enough she saw the bruising on his face, she kneeled closer to him and moved her hand to reach his face, Ivar waited expectantly for her touch, but she stopped before that.

“Ivar, what happened?”

“It's nothing to worry about.” Ivar answeredf nonchalantly, with a smile nonetheless.

“But… you are hurt.”

“It’s just a bruise from training. No need to worry.”

She looked at him concerned and not entirely convinced and it didn't fail to make Ivar feel cocky.

“Does it matter to you if I get hurt?”

“You were bad to me. Does not mean I wish you hurt.”

“I was bad to you?”

“Yes! You argued for nothing.”

From anyone else, Ivar wouldn't tolerate such insolence, but Revna had that annoyed expression that he couldn't honestly take seriously.

“You hid things from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You met with Sigurd and didn't say a thing about it.”

“I did! Didn't know he was your brother! How would I?!”

For all Revna was reserved, she sure got annoyed fast and Ivar found it entertaining. 

“Sit down with me, I want to talk with you.”

“You do not have to say anything to me.”

“I know. But I want to.”

“Why?”

“Just sit down and listen to what I have to say then make up your mind. If you don’t like it, I will let you go.” He wouldn’t, but it was enough that she believed otherwise.

She considered his proposition, and while she clearly was still guarded, she sat down.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I blamed you for things you didn’t know and were never at fault. It wasn't warranted.”

“But… Why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not angry at you. I should not have said that to you.”

“You were. Because of your brother.”

“You’re right. And because you didn’t tell me.”

“I did not know.”

“You should have told me anyway”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what friends should do.”

That made her look at him oddly, like she didn't understand what he said.

“Are we friends?”

“I thought so. Or were  you just with me out of pity?”

“No. I like to be with you.”

“Then you should have told me you met someone new. It is what friends should do, don’t you think?”

“I do not know. Never stayed this long anywhere.”

She answered him very casually, butIvar's curiosity was piqued by Revna’s statement. For the moment he decided to not press her.

“Why were you angry? That I met your brother?”

Ivar breathed deeply. He wasn’t comfortable talking about his relationship with his brothers, but sooner or later she would come to know, either from him or others, he would rather she knew through him.

“I’m not like my brothers. I’m a cripple, they do not see me the same.”

“But… They are your brothers. It should not matter.”

It was when it struck him just how unaware of things she truly was. She looked at him just as confused as she did when she first saw him, waiting for him to explain like he did when teaching her.

“You don’t understand. Cripples are left in the woods to die. I am alive because my mother saved me. But I am not the same as my brothers.”

Ivar gauged Revna’s reaction as she seemed to consider what he just said. It took her a little while to say anything.

“I am happy you live. I like meeting you.”

She said that in such a light hearted way, Ivar was without breath. He felt his face a little warm as she smiled kindly at him and he had to look away. Nobody ever said that about him, much less with such honesty and Ivar was left speechless. He took a moment to regain his composure.

“Then it is set. We are friends.”

“Will you argue with me?”

“No, but you  have to promise me that you will not hide things from me again.”

“Like what?”

“You let me decide that. What do you say?”

“Alright. We are friends then!” She said in such a chipper way Ivar could only smile at her. Before he forgot, he searched in a pocket inside his thick vest and reached his hand out to her, revealing a couple of tiny, yellow flowers tied together just like the ones she had liked so much.

She lit up at seeing the little flowers, joyful like he missed seeing from her. She reached to take them, but stopped midway, her smile fading as she looked cautiously at him.

“Take It. It's for you.” Ivar reassured her.

She tentatively reached for the flowers and gently took them from his hands, twirling them in her fingers, entertained like a child.

“Would you allow me?” Ivar asked, gesturing to the flowers and then her hair.

Revna eyed him curiously, but nodded nonetheless.

Ivar took the flowers from her hand and carefully arranged them among her braids. When he was done, he caressed the long locks of hair on his way back. It was a beautiful har, so full of curves and waves he couldn’t help but feel enthralled by it and how the flowers contrasted like gold on it.

Revna giggled at him, hiding her face a bit out of embarrassment and knowing that she was happy to be with him was a strange experience but it gave him a special kind of confidence.

Aslaug POV:

As she predicted, Revna was back with Ivar, playing hnefatafl. Ivar was completely taken with the girl, looking with bright eyes to her and the tiny yellow flowers on her hair, he didn't pay attention to anything nor anyone else and he was smiling, truly smiling and not just pretending or being sarcastic. He had a joy so free of the weight he carried that Aslaug had never seen before.

Ivar sat close to the girl, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers as he waited for her turn. Occasionally, he caressed her face and pointed out something in the game. That didn't fail to make her shy and awkward and he apparently enjoyed it.

Aslaug would not say anything about it, she knew Ivar would be defensive and he couldn't see things Aslaug did, but it was clear to her and as much as she wanted to protect Ivar, it pleased her that he was happy. For as long as she was alive, Aslaug would do everything in her power to keep Ivar happy. If he wanted that girl's company, then so be it. For her favorite son, she could overlook her discomfort with that stranger.

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Ravenblade - Part 2 // Ivar Lothbrok x OC

Summary: As Björn would like to keep an eye on his mysterious sister, she has her sights set on someone completely different, to the surprise of her brother and his.

Warnings: Language, Description of violence, light smut (implied but not fully described)

Pairing: Ivar x OC

A/N: Here is the second chapter :) Still, let me know if you wanna be on the tag list ;)

Masterlist

That evening the great sacrifice takes place, which is supposed to bring victory to the Vikings over the Saxons. Some Earl has decided to sacrifice himself for the cause, and Liv now stands beside her big brother and his brothers before the ceremony.

"You still owe me an answer," Bjorn whispers to her as they wait for Lagertha.

"I don't owe you anything," she says, continuing to look straight ahead.

"I still want to know why you're doing this and whose side you're on."

Now Liv looks at her big brother. "I am on Ragnar's side. I am doing this to avenge his death. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But why?"

"Have you seen him in the last ten years? No? Well, I have. And I have my reasons. But let my reasons be mine."

Then, as Lagertha begins to speak in the old language up front, Liv notices Björn slinking away. She doesn't care, but now she is standing next to Ivar. She looks at him briefly, and her eyes meet his. She grins briefly before turning her attention back to the front.

Lagertha is now sacrificing the Earl. Liv watches closely. It somehow fascinates her how her mother pushes the sword further and further into the man's chest.

Liv looks enthusiastically at Sven, who looks at her with a slight smirk. She feels Ivar's eyes on her. Liv likes it when a man is interested in her. It makes it all the easier to manipulate him. But with Ivar, it is something else. Somehow she feels drawn to him.

Once again, her gaze wanders to him, who is also looking at her with his deep blue eyes. A smile creeps onto her face.

When the ritual ends, Liv sees Ivar in front of the large bowl of blood. She walks up to him and stands next to him.

"May I?" she then asks, pointing to the blood. Ivar looks at her in surprise and then nods hesitantly.

Painting blood on someone is a sign of affection. Liv taps two fingers each into the blood and then looks Ivar in the eye before wiping her fingers across his face. Ivar closes his eyes briefly and then looks at her again. They maintain eye contact for a moment before Ivar dips his fingers in the blood and then does the same to Liv.

From a distance, they are watched by Björn and Ubbe. "I don't like this," murmurs Ubbe. He is not comfortable with the young warrior and does not trust her.

Björn shakes his head with his arms crossed. "She's manipulating him. That's what she's good at."

"Normally, I wouldn't have thought of Ivar as someone women so easily manipulate, but with her... I'm not so sure," the younger of the two concludes.

When everyone has retired to sleep before leaving, Liv sneaks out of the hut she and the Ravenblade have been assigned. She walks through the deserted town and creeps towards one particular hut.

Carefully she listens at the door and hears nothing. Then she opens it quietly and squeezes through a small crack. In front of her on a chair lies Hvitserk, snoring heartily. The position can't be comfortable, Liv thinks to herself and tiptoes past him. Then she stands in front of two doors. She briefly points her finger at both and then decides on the first one.

Silently she opens it, and to her luck, it is the room she was looking for. But to her surprise, he is sitting, still awake, with his back to her, and seems bent over something. Still silent, Liv closes the door again and takes a few steps toward her.

"You're quiet, but I know you're here," Ivar says suddenly, then turns to her.

She looks at him with raised eyebrows, a smug smile on her face. "But only because I wanted you to," she says, winking at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks then.

Liv takes a few steps across the room, looking at what he owns. "Oh, I felt like company..."

Ivar follows her closely with his gaze. He can't figure her out. Liv walks up to him and stops in front of him. She leans down to him and looks him in the eye.

"Don't you want my company?" she asks directly.

"I... Uh..." he stammers briefly, which throws him off.

"I can leave as well," she says, standing up again and walking towards the door.

"No!" he says quickly. "No. Please stay."

Liv smiles at him and then walks back towards him. She pulls a chair towards her and sits in front of Ivar, so they are at eye level. She is so close to him that her knees touch his, and she has placed them to the left and right of his legs.

"Tell me something about yourself, Ivar the Boneless. That's what they call you, isn't it?"

Ivar nods, slightly befuddled, then looks away. "They do..."

"You don't like the name? I think it's a great one. Not as boring as 'the feared' or 'the cruel'.  Most of the time, they don't live up to their names anyway, but you... You're different."

Ivar looks her in the eye again and notices that Liv is getting closer to him. Suddenly she puts her lips to his, and he enjoys it briefly before pulling away from her again.

Slightly ashamed, he looks to the floor and bites his lips. "I can't..." he says, turning away from her. "If you're looking for that kind of company, I'm the wrong guy..." he continues seriously, and Liv looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you trying to say? If I want to spend time with you, I want to spend it with you, not with someone else."

Ivar looks at her again, and Liv can tell he is incredibly uncomfortable. "I can't... I can't do this. It."

Liv continues to look at him without making a face. Ivar would have expected something else. Either she would laugh at him or feel sorry for him, but nothing of the sort comes from Liv.

"Have you also been told that a deaf person cannot communicate?" she asks, and Ivar does not know what she is getting at. She takes a deep breath and then moves closer to him again. "How many times have you tried? With how many women?"

"Only with one, and it didn't work," Ivar says quietly.

Now Liv begins to laugh softly. But it's not that she's laughing at him, but rather at his pathetic attempt.

"And that already tells you it can't be done?" she asks, kneeling before him.

She starts to undo his trousers, and Ivar grabs her wrists. "What are you doing?" he asks, irritated, but she grins at him.

"I'm trying to prove you wrong." Hesitantly, Ivar lets go of Liv's wrists, and she expertly undoes his trousers.

Ivar feels the lust rising in him and his body changing. She looks him in the eyes and then begins to massage him slowly. Her movements become faster and her grip tighter, but Ivar doesn't mind. Then she winks at him and lowers her head.

It is not long before Ivar can no longer hold on. His body tenses, and he opens his mouth. He tries to stifle a moan and then looks down at Liv, who is just breaking away from him.

She straightens up again, grabs a piece of cloth lying on the table, and wipes her mouth and hands before looking at him triumphantly.

"What did I say? I guess it all comes down to technique."

With those words, she tosses the rag back on the table, winks at Ivar one last time, and then leaves the hut. Ivar looks after her in disbelief. How is he supposed to keep his hands off her now?

The following day the time has come. The enormous army leaves for England. All along the docks, people are saying goodbye to their loved ones.

Liv walks towards the dock where her boat is moored and stops as she passes her brother's ship. It is right opposite hers. Lagertha is standing there with Björn, saying goodbye to him.

"Oh, how sentimental," she says with amusement, and Lagertha looks at her. As always, Liv has uncovered her sarcastic smile.

"I just wish him good luck on his journey, and may the gods watch over him," Lagertha justifies herself. "Wouldn't you like someone to say that to you?"

"I don't need that... I know the gods are with me. I don't need someone like you to tell me that. And luck is for beginners." Liv walks over to her ship and then looks at Ivar momentarily. "Hello, Ivar," she says, winks at him, and then hops onto her boat.

"Well, folks? Are you ready?" she asks the crowd, where her people are already busy making final arrangements for departure.

"Here you are," Sven says, coming up to Liv. "Where were you tonight?" he asks more quietly, looking at her.

"Oh, here and there," she replies, and her gaze briefly wanders to Ivar, who keeps looking at her.

Sven follows her gaze and glares at Ragnar's son. "Were you with him?" he asks, following Liv across the boat.

"Even if I was, it's none of your business Sven, understand?" she says more seriously now.

She is always very relaxed with her people, but if someone tries to undermine her authority or gets too nosy, she is good at putting a stop to it. Now Liv turns to her whole troop.

"It's finally time!" she shouts, then climbs a mast. "We are travelling to England, and we will avenge the death of Ragnar Lothbrok! Until now, you have followed me, and I hope you will continue to follow me! We are the Ravenblade! Du bekar! Du bekar!" shouts Liv, and her men and women cheer.

From the other boat, Ivar watches her closely. She is a true leader, and one day, she will be his.

With anticipation, Liv waits for her cue. It is a grandiose plan; she has to admit. The first troops of the great army get ready and line up. Then it's their turn. She stands up and leads her Ravenblade up the hill as well.

The shieldmaiden lines up not far from the sons of Ragnar and grins. She loves fighting and slaughter. She turns her sword once in her hand and draws the shield closer as Ivar stops beside her in his chariot.

He looks at her briefly but then directs his gaze forward. And then Björn gives the signal. Together they run off into battle.

After the battle, Liv climbs onto the chariot with Ivar. Behind him, they have tied King Aelle, and he is now being pulled through the mud by Ivar. Liv smiles triumphantly at Ivar and then looks ahead again.

As Ivar comes to a stop, the other sons of Ragnar lift Aelle out of the mud. Ivar also turns on his buck and watches while Liv jumps from the chariot. The Boneless One watches her movements closely.

She seems to be examining where they are when Björn asks Aelle about the location of Ragnar's death. The anxious king looks at a place where Liv is already standing, and she then points to the ground with a nod. She steps on the floor with her foot and notices wood under her feet. She pushes the leaves back and forth and then looks at the king.

"Is this the place?" she asks in English. Liv has learned many different languages on her travels. The king looks at her and then nods hesitantly. "This is it," she says to Björn, and he asks his men to open the hatch.

Together they look inside. Ivar has now joined them as well.

"This is the place where our father was killed," he says, looking at his brothers.

The brothers exchange a look, and then Aelle looks at Björn. "How much gold and silver do you want to spare my life?" he asks tremblingly. "Name a price! Anything, anything you want!"

Liv laughs out loud. She bites her lip and waits anxiously for her big brother's answer. But then Ivar interferes.

"You are mistaken! Our father was worth much more than gold and silver." Then he looks to the king. "That is not the price you must pay."

The king knows fully that he is done for and begins to weep. Liv, meanwhile, looks at Ivar, who returns her gaze. Again, a nasty smile creeps onto her lips.

Then Floki grabs the king by the collar and forces him to his feet.

"I was told that your god was a builder. And you don't believe it, but so am I!"

A little later, Floki nails the king by the hands to posts so that Björn has a clear path to his back. Liv knows precisely what is coming now. She stands in front of the king and looks at him disparagingly.

Then Björn tears the king's tunic off and cuts his back open. He cries out in pain, and Liv looks briefly at her brother. When he looks at her, she raises an eyebrow, then turns around and sits down on a tree stump.

Liv watches tensely, and suddenly she notices how Ivar is next to her and creeps closer and closer to the king. Blood splatters around with every blow of Björn's axe, but Liv doesn't care. She is covered in blood anyway. She sees the fascination in Ivar's gaze and watches him momentarily.

With each successive blow, the life drains more from Aelle until the king is dead.

"I didn't think he'd last this long," Liv whispers to Ivar as she leans down to him.

Ivar looks at her briefly, and enthusiasm is reflected in his eyes. He is probably more like Liv than she thought.

The following day, the lifeless body with its open back hangs over their heads, finally wiping the blood from its face with a scrap of cloth. Ivar sits with Floki on his back, and they all look at the pathetic king.

"Come on...  Another king is waiting for us," Björn says and trudges off.

Liv looks at Sven, who is eyeing her critically. She walks towards him.

"If you have something to say, say it," she demands.

The big man looks at her momentarily but then shakes his head.

"Thought so," she says, then follows her brother.

It's beginning to get on her nerves that Sven always looks at her with that reproving look.

[aissa-snapped]

The Heathen and The Christian final part

Summary: Ivar finally finds out what happened to his servant, and more exactly WHO did it. But when he finds out it`s his own brother, how will he react?

A/N I apologise deeply for the wait. I simply wasn``t in the mood for writing and I finally got some inspo to do so. I hope all are still interested in this. Anyway thx for the comments, those really made me wanna write more. I love you all.

@kens0world0of0imagine0nation there you go :))

Days have passed. Frigyth was still fearful of stepping out of her and Ivars chamber, but did it carefully whenever she had to. The king was struggling to squeeze any information out of her in order for him to punish the doer of his slaves traumatic experience.

The redhead however was still afraid of the consequences that might follow in case her master was to find out she had been meeting with his brother behind his back after specifically telling her not to do it, which by extension led to the unfortunate consequence.

Ivar, sitting angrily in his throne, overlooked the great hall, giving him the opportunity to scan over anyone who was sitting in there. He could only guess who did it, since he had no clue whatsoever. Glaring at the mass of people in the hall, he tried observing their behavior. Any clues as to who might have been brave enough to come after his beloved slave right under his nose. Any abnormal behavior, that could hint towards the rapist.

As much as he tried, he simply failed. He could`ve easily held a trial and hang all accused men, but he wished for a grander finale. He wanted to torture them to insanity, not just kill them off.

Ivar allowed Frigyth to stay within their chambers, for her safety, hopefully waiting for her to open up to him and tell her.

Days passed, and then weeks, and Frigyth seemed to be overcoming the past trauma, or so she wanted to lead on. Ivar was still pestering her about the subject, giving up each time after the girl simply changed the subject.

Hvitserk was scared the first few days, assuming the stupid girl surely must have run straight to Ivar to tell him, but to his amazement, she never did. That gave him some hope, knowing he was safe from Ivar`s wrath, or, at least for a lingering moment.

Frigyth, though she tried masking her fears related to men whenever Ivar was being close to her, could only do so much. Ivar, of course noticed how she flinched each time he was inches away from her, or when someone would raise their voice. This observation led him to an idea: maybe he could notice her behavior around certain men, and surely, if the rapist was around her, her body would give her away and expose the monster.

'' HVITSERK. Come. I am in need of your help.'' He called upon his brother one morning, urging him to approach the throne.

Curiosity linked with a hint of hidden fear engulfed Hvitserk, but nevertheless, he joined his brother`s side, wondering what sort of crazy idea he has come up with now, and knowing him, there could be many.

''How may I help you?'' He crossed his arms, rubbing on his grown beard.

Ivar shook his head annoyed, and motioned with his fingers for him to get close to his face, indicating this was not a matter he wished to be overheard by the other townies.

When Hvitserk was barely a few inches away from Ivar, the youngest brother whispered in his ear: '' I want to find out who raped my girl, and then punish him with everything that Ive got.'' And with that, he pulled away from his ear and rested back again on the throne, smirking at his brothers almost terrified expression.

His heart was pumping blood all throughout his body as if preparing for a race, causing Hvitserk`s cheeks and ears to catch a violent red color.

A few moments passed, silence filling the air between the brothers, and then after a long debate that took place in Hvitserk`s mind, trying to conjure a non-suspicious response, he gulped lightly and furrowed his brows, maintaining eye contact with the intense pair of deep blue eyes of his leader.

'' And how are you going to do that?'' He questioned curiously.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head at his silly question.

'' Well you see… That…Hvitty… Is for me to know only.''

Hvitserk nodded his head, accidentally letting a look of fear cover his eyes, which didn`t go unnoticed by the hypervigilent and smart Ivar.

'' Ástin mín. Come on It`s alright. I just want you to come in contact with other people. You have been hiding in here as if some disease was spreading around town.'' Ivar gently dragged Frigyth out of their shared room, intending to find out the evil person once and for all. (My love)

His plan was coming into action, seeing as he had gathered most of the towns men inside the longhouse under the pretext that they were to feast that night.

Reluctantly, the spooked girl took a seat next to Ivar`s throne, where someone had previously placed a wooden chair for her to sit on under the order of Ivar.

With prey like eyes, the Anglo-Saxon girl scanned the full room, sensing an overwhelming feeling resting in her gut, at the sight of all those people. Crowded places were never her favorite thing. Ivar himself sat on the throne, with his right hand resting on the shaky knee of his servant.

The Ragnarsson was working on the plan, however now that he had gathered all these people here, with the girl as well, he only just realized he had never thought of the next step of the plan, and now he had to improvise.

Knowing that everyone was awaiting his orders to allow the feast to fully take place, he stood up, proud and tall above all men, with a horned cup in his left hand, giving an encouraging speech to the villagers, telling his future plans for raiding England, hyping up every viking and shield-maiden.

The feast was at its peak, the sight of drunken falling and stumbling men being everywhere. Ivar himself was feeling a bit tipsy, but he refrained himself from getting wasted remembering his intentions. '' Maybe now is the right time.'' thought Ivar, wondering if their intoxicated state would make men more vulnerable and honest.

Eyeing the room, he saw some familiar faces, including Hvitserk, gulping down cup after cup full of mead. Frigyth was constantly shifting in her seat, not only because of the hungry stares she would get from men, but also because she hadn`t moved from her seat in almost two hours, feeling her butt getting numb from all that sitting.

'' Are you alright my love?'' Asked a concerned Ivar, noticing the uncomfortable state she was in.

'' Ye- yes. I am. Just tired.'' She smiled tiredly at him, hoping he would let her go to sleep.

Cupping her chin with his right hand, he moved closer to her face, his breathing tickling her face. '' Just a bit longer and then we`ll go to sleep. I need you here with me.'' He explained softly. Nodding in understatement, she huffed slightly, and put on a fake smile.

Ivar didn`t know where to start, or how to approach the situation. There were so many people here, and there was also the chance that the culprit might not even be present.

But it seemed as if the God's were working in Ivar`s favor, since Hvitserk seemed to be more wasted than ever, and when he approached the two, he unknowingly was about to experience his downfall.

With his mind intoxicated, his vision blurry, he lost all his senses, unaware of his actions, which he would later on regret. He climbed the platform clumsily, on which the throne was placed, and drunkenly got closer to Frigyth. Ivar furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion and disapproval at his gesture, his hand on his dagger ready to take it out if needed, but what happened next shocked him beyond repair.

Hvitserk almost launched at the girl, who seemed to be going in for a kiss. Frigyth squirmed in her seat, and for the first time during the night she got up from it, rushing over to the other side of Ivar`s throne, instinctively seeking his protection.

The cripples heart fluttered at the gesture, feeling honored she was feeling safe around him, but quickly regained his thoughts, focusing on his brother instead. It was the more terrying face Frigyth had ever seen. Ivars eyebrows were creased to its limits, mouth tightly shut, and the eyes seemed to be the biggest give away for what he was feeling. Rage, pure rage was seeping from his normally deep blue eyes.

Ivar exhaled sharply, sort of like a bull ready to attack, and grabbed the frightened girl`s hand in reassurance. He kissed the top of her rather soft hand and ushered her to go back to their shared chamber.

By the time she left, the great hall was silent, everybody fearing Ivar`s next moves. Hvitserk seemed to be sobering up quicker than ever, slowly backing away from his dangerous brother, stepping backwards down the steps and into the crowd.

Ivar`s face showed a thousand different levels of anger, growing stronger and stronger by the second. It was obvious this much that nothing good would come of this.

Using his incredible force from his arms, he used the crutch to lift his body up, now fully towering over Hvitserk, and took slow, steady steps towards him, who was moving backwards as far away from the youngest brother as possible. '' You-you think I wouldn`t find out huh?'' He gave a dark chuckle, continuing his way towards him. '' That you can have MY servant as your whore? Hm? YOU REALLY THINK THAT?! '' Ivar was raising his voice with each word.

'' I am going to TORTUER YOU! FOR WHAT YOU`VE DONE TO HER!''

Hvitserk was at the end of the hall, right up against the doors, no escaping. There was no point in running. He had been caught. ''Ivar--''

'' DO NOT SPEAK. YOU BROTHER, HAVE CHOSEN YOUR FATE. THE MOMENT YOU DECIDED TO LAY A HAND ON HER. AND IN THE NAME OF THE GODS, I MUST PUNISH YOU.''

Ivar was making sure everyone understood the situation, him not wanting to personally explain the whole thing to the people. But by the looks of all, it seemed they all understood what had happened.

Hvitserk looked mortified, his life flashing before his eyes, knowing there was no escaping Ivar`s wrath.

Frigyth had been sent to their chamber, but that didn`t stop her from hearing everything that was said, or more like yelled, by Ivar. When he returned to their room, she was scared he would yell at her, but to her amazement, she was engulfed in a hug, and during the whole night, he had an arm wrapped around her torso, which made her feel physically and emotionally warm.

Hvitserk had been captured and thrown into a temporary prison, for Ivar wanted to make sure he would not escape the following morning`s events.

Ivar felt rape should be punished with the worst and most painful of all: The blood eagle. And so the next morning, Ivar showed up in the center of Kattegat, accompanied by his Escort guards and the other curious folk, and brought out Hvitserk for his torture.

Frigyth had tried talking Ivar out of doing it, suggesting he`d exile him, but he said nothing would bring him more pain than this. At the failed persuasion, the Saxon asked Ivar to let her stay inside, for she could not bare watch such barbaric acts.

Around noon, Ivar was one brother short, but half of his heart mended, knowing he did the right thing. Hvitserk`s body had been left hanging in the middle of the village, with blood still dripping on the muddy ground. It was a morbid scene to say the least, but as more than half of the townsfolk were used to going on raids, nothing unusual.

Frigyth was in her room, quietly crying. Why, she didn`t know. She felt bad. Because she met up with him. Because it happened and Ivar was forced to kill his brother. It was weird. Though she was the victim here, she felt guilty for his death. Maybe it was some sort of twisted game the God's were playing with her. Maybe that God that loved to play games, what was his name… Loki? Maybe he drilled his way into her head, making her think she should feel bad.

Ivar entered the chamber, with the purpose of checking up on her. When he saw her crouched down in a corner, he immediately went behind her, placing his hands over her shoulders, rubbing up and down. Kissing her temple, he put his head on her right shoulder, trying to be as close to her as possible.

'' Why are you crying love?'' He asked quietly. Sniffing, she slightly turned her head in his direction, taking a shaky breath in, preparing to talk. '' B-because… I dont know. You killed your brother...because of a servant. It was my fault. I shouldve never met up with him.''

'' You were the victim. He should`VE known better. He deserved it. You think he would have stopped?! He could have done it again, had he not been caught.''

''Yeah but… I don`t know… I am not used to people killing each other like this… and especially not because of me…'' She sighed sadly, another tear falling down her cheeks.

Ivar used his thumb to wipe it away, and then grabbed her chin softly, turning her face towards him fully now.

'' You… Are not at fault. You didnt know what could happen. I locked you in here. You maybe wanted to..have someone who would properly care for you. And then he betrayed your trust. I shouldve looked out for you more…'' He trailed off, looking into the distance, trying to blink away the tears that were making his eyes glossy.

Without hesitation, Frigyth turned her body, now both of them being almost chest to chest, and she climbed into his lap, hugging him.

It was such a new form of affection, Ivar had not experienced before. Startled for a few seconds, he just stood with his arms out, processing what was happening, but then he quickly wrapped them around her whole body, feeling her delicate figure, and enjoying the warmth that was radiating off of her.

A few minutes had passed, and she was the one to pull away. She kept her hands on his shoulders, whilst his were resting on her waist. Both staring deeply into eachother`s eyes, Frigyth realised this man was capable of loving, he just needed guidance.

'' Ivar, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to have someone be by your side, not out of fear but rather because of support. ''

Ivar was truly touched by these words. He had never heard them before, and there was this fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, not the kind he`d get when he would murder someone, but rather something that made him melt, become soft and drop his angry facade.

The Viking got closer to her, their lips berely inches apart. '' Will you show me, love?' He whispered, glancing at her lips ever so often. Frigyth nodded slowly, right before Ivar gave her the most passionate kiss that made her feel like she was in heaven. The simple kiss turned into one with tongues interlocking, wrestling one another, and eventually they both pulled away, breathing heavily.

Frigyth blushed, feeling overwhelmed by the love she was feeling. Ivar however, allowed her a few deep breaths, before pulling her into him again and kissing her a second time.

It felt like hours before they pulled away again, and without hesitation, Ivar bravely asked the girl.

'' Will you be my woman, my equal partner, the one whom I share my success and failures with? Say yes and you will be more than a free woman. You will be the Queen of the most feared Viking.'' He asked, interlocking their fingers, squeezing her hands.

Frigyth laughed melodically, nodding her head vigorously, and engulfing her future husband into a strong gripped hug.

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

MASTERLIST

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

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This pained her heart gravely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A raven...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

Taglist: @g-cf2020 @ugh-whytho

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[delirivmtr3mens]

how difficult it has been to find a work/fic about Ivar.( x reader// x oc fem)

I appreciate if you leave me your recommendations 🤍

[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

[miss-madness67]

The Mistress Ch.20: Den beinløse

The Boneless

At the Viking's attack, Leofflaed sees a familiar face. Time to play for survival.

“I would like to speak with Prince Ivar.” I do not know if Ivar is part of the Vikings’ attack because Alfred never told me anything about it. I am not sure whether he has any power over the army. Still, it is the only way of survival I can think of.

The name catches the attention of another one of the Vikings nearby. He is the one standing in front of the Marquis along with the shieldmaiden. The man is quite tall, muscular, and has braided blonde hair and blue eyes. He looks almost like a bear with all those furs and blood. I cannot help but recoil a little bit at the threatening pose he carries himself with.

Still, I do not back down when he speaks. “What do you want with Ivar?” He directs his question in English. Now it is my turn to be surprised because even though Vikings like to come to England quite often, not many bother to learn the language.

“Who are you?” I think he is about to respond to me until the sound of a crutch sinking heavily in the grass interrupts our staring. When I look back at the source, my heart feels as if it stops beating.

Prince Ivar stands in front of us in all of his glory. I never would have imagined he could walk, but as he approaches I can see that the braces surrounding his leg muscles, and the crutches under his arms are enough help for him to be able to do so. His sharp blue eyes are staring intensely at my own, and I feel the thread of connection form between us. I would be lying if I say I have never fantasized about meeting him again. It is not only the fact that he is the first Viking I ever talked to, he is the association to my wild side. Furthermore, there is the instant reaction my body seems to have to his presence. I felt it all those years ago, but it is nothing compared to the present. As I envisioned, he is taller than he would seem to be. He was already a man when I met him, but now he has matured even more so. His chest has broadened, and his arms look incredibly powerful under his armor. He is also bearing a different hairstyle. I am positively surprised by the changes in him.

Continue reading on:

AO3 / PA / WAT

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[littlenicky24]

Fire Behind The Viking Ch. 2

Ch. 1

Hvitserk grabbed Rheneria turning her around holding her arms behind her back as the other man used his crutch to come closer until he was face to face with her. "What should I do with you?" He whispered to himself as he brought a hand up brushing a strand of her silver blonde hair out of her face.

"What is your name slave?" Rheneria thought for a moment if she should argue that she wasnt a slave but a princess but decided against it and just told him her name. "My name is Rheneria." The man looked her deep in the violet/blue eyes as if trying to read her, he then looked away and told Hvitserk to take her back to her room, with that the other man dragged her away back into the room she woke in.

Sitting on the bed Rheneria couldnt help but think about her sister, even her brother as horrible as he was, wondering what they were doing or if her brother had even come back to the city to see what had happened.... did he notice she was gone? Did he care? All these questions are running aroung inside of Rheneria's head. Looking around the bare room with nothing but a bed and a small fireplace where she had stored her egg on the embers.

Rheneria knew she needed to get a message to her siblings but she didnt know how she would be able to if she was unable to get away from being under constant watch.

"Hello?" Rheneria called out hesitantly, there was no answer until she called out once again, the door opened revealing Hvitserk. "What is it?" He asked as he entered the room, Rheneria could help but think he was quite handsome with his blue eyes and tough demeanor.

"Whats going to happen to me?" She asked quietly, Hvitserk looked at her and tilted his head slightly with a small smirk.

"That's up to my brother Ivar." With that he turned around and walked out of the room closing the door behind him.

Rheneria sat there thinking, now she has a name to the other man... Ivar...

The sun had almost set when the door was opened and Rheneria was grabbed by two guards and snatched out of her bed. Shocked she didn't struggle at first but once she realized what was happening she began twisting and turning to get out of their grip but to no avail she was dragged further through the great hall until she was dragged in front of a crowd and tossed to her knees.

Looking up she seen that Ivar, Hvitserk, Ubbe, and another one who held similarities to the others but slightly older sat there looking at her. "You are here to be served a punishment." Ivar spoke with what almost sounded like excitement, a thrill behind his voice. Rheneria looked at him as he spoke with a smile.

"My brothers and I have come to an agreement on what your punishment should be." Ivar paused standing up leaning on his crutch as he took a step forward. "I shall whip you... hm... 50 times." Rhenerias heart sank until the older brother she didnt know the name of spoke up with a warning tone. "Ivar."

Ivar rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Fine Bjorn, 30 times."

All of a sudden Rheneria was grabbed again and dragged to a more private room off to the side, Ivar and his brothers following behind him. The two guards locked her wrists in the chains so she was unable to move, Ivar limped his way to her where he grabbed the back of her dress ripping it open before stepping back grabbing the whip Hvitserk was holding out to him.

Rheneria stood there with her hands chained in the air taking deep breaths waiting for the pain to come, she felt the cool air on her naked back, all of a sudden she felt the strong strike of the whip on her back causing her to grip the chains as she groaned out in pain clenching her teeth painfully tight.

Ivar watched her reactions intently, enjoying the power before whipping her again watching her back arch, the whimpers and groans of her pain heard through the room, his brothers noticed this and glanced at each other as his brother whipped the girl harder.

Hissing out in pain she couldnt help but feel aroused by it, arching her back she let out a whine as Ivar hit her again with the whip a little harder striking blood.

By the time Ivar was done, the brothers were looking at her back that had multiple welts and cuts on it from the whip, she was nearly hanging from the chains cause her legs were so weak. As Ivar pulled his hand back to hit her again Bjorn stepped forward. "Enough!" Ivar sneered at him with a clenched jaw before tossing the whip to the ground, leaving the room.

Rheneria blinked slowly feeling someone help her stand as someone else undid the cuffs holding her. The two took her to her room laying her in her bed when they left a few of the slaves came in and began washing her cuts so they dont get infected. Rheneria was use to pain from her brothers punishments but this was different, these were men she doesn't know.

~~2 Months Later~~

Over the last couple months Rheneria has grown slightly more use to how things are done here she has talked to more of the locals, even with some of the brothers. Everyday when she wakes up and before she goes to sleep she checks her egg curious if one day it will hatch.

Laying in bed looking at the ceiling Rheneria thought about where her sister might be right now, have they gotten closer to conquering Westeros... Sighing deeply as she sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side she walked over to the door opening it only to find Ubbe standing there with his arm out as if he was going to open it. "You're needed in the main area." With that he stepped to the side so she could walk out, as she did he began following behind her.

When Rheneria entered the main room of the Great Hall she was greeted by all of Ragnars sons, feeling a little nervous as to what was happening she slowly walked forward. "What's happening?" She asked cautiously as she looked around when Hvitserk motioned her to sit down, taking a seat she listened as Bjorn began speaking.

"I am going to be leaving to explore the Mediterranean Sea." Glancing around most brothers didn't care but Ivar looked annoyed by this statement, Rheneria was curious why he cared so much.

"I plan to raid more of England just as our father did." Ivar spoke confidently, the brothers argued about somethings and agreed on others when suddenly Rheneria spoke up.

"Why am I here?" All eyes turned to her as their conversations seized, Ivar chuckled before answering making it sound so simple. "Because I want you here." Something in Rheneria felt terrified but deep down there was a flutter at the time she couldn't tell if it was fear or something else..

One day all of Ragnar's sons had left on a raid except Ubbe, he was left to watch over Kattegat and Rheneria since Ivar had ordered him to do so, however the day Rheneria seen their ship leaving the dock she began her plan to escape and get back to her sister.

~~Daenerys~~

Daenerys was pregnant with Khal Drogos baby which he had killed her brother for threatening to harm, but something had gone wrong and she lost the child... It was as if one bad thing after another kept happening to her, first she was bargained for an army, raped, lost her child, now she learns that her husband will not survive the infection he has.... So Dany did what she thought was best, she wanted to die and sacrificed herself and Khal Drogo to the Gods, only she had lived in the end surrounded by flames with two baby dragons clinging to her.

Walking out of the flames watching as the crowd bowed down to her she felt a feeling of pride churning in her gut, looking at Sir Jorah as he knelt down she gave him a nod as she held her head high.

~~Rheneria~~

Sitting in her room she looked over at her egg seeing the gold shade in the flames smiling to herself she walked over holding her hand in the flames watching as her hand stayed unburnt and felt no pain, knowing what this meant she began planning.

Over the next few days she has collected some oils and things to make a torch before dosing her room and outside of it, lighting the torch she dropped it at the door grabbing her egg as the flames spread and surrounded her.

Feeling nothing but the clothes fall off her body she closed her eyes taking a deep breath as she heard the sounds of screams spread through the Great Hall as the fire spread.

Ubbe tried to get to Rhenerias room but the fire was too large at that point he couldn't reach it without killing himself in the process.

Rheneria sat on the burning floor holding her egg as the building around her burned, her hair blowing with the flames. Opening her eyes she stood up and walked out of her room, majority of the Great Hall on fire at this point, as she walked the egg in her hand began cracking, stopping in her steps she looked down seeing part of the egg fall apart before the whole thing broke open revealing a tiny dragon.

Smiling she took a deep breath before exiting out the back, grabbing a long fur coat before running off into the woods leaving a burning Kattegat behind her.

Not knowing where she was going she needed to figure out a way to get warm fast for her dragon, she has decided to name him Valeryes, looking down at the baby dragon in her arms she snuggled him closer as she kept running knowing it would only be a matter of time before they realized there is no body Rheneria was determined to get as far as she could before that came.

It took 3 hours for the fire to go out before Ubbe and other men began looking for bodies, when it came to Rhenerias room he looked but found no body, however he did see an empty broken large egg...

Looking back at where the door use to be all he could think about is how Ivar will react when he finds out the woman he claimed was gone.

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 36- Angel of Mercy- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline and Ivar are finally reunited.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Ch. 35

AN: Wow. It's been a long time. I've been thinking about this chapter for a long time and haven't been able to pin down why I waited so long to update. Part of me blames writer's block, part of me blames my schedule and timing, but the biggest thing I think that kept me from updating was that this would mean the end of this journey.

I came up with the idea for this story in May 2019 and after four years, it's finally finished. I don't think I was ready to end this journey and part with Aaline and the Lothbrok clan. I've been telling myself for weeks that I need to finish it and I've finally decided that I'm ready to end this journey.

I thank all of you who have stuck with me on this adventure.

“Angel of mercy, how did you find me? How did you pick me up again? Angel of mercy, how did you move me? Why am I on my feet again?”

~ “Mercy” by OneRepublic

She was warm. A marked difference from the last few weeks of her existence. She inhaled deeply and slowly, allowing the world to come back into focus. She blinked and surveyed the room she was in. 

It was her room. Her and Ivar’s. The curtains were closed except for a six inch gap that allowed sunlight to stream in and light up the dim room. There was just enough to maneuver the room but not wake her.

She shifted and winced at the sharp pain that lanced through her back. It would’ve been gracious to call the bed she’d slept on for the last few weeks a cot. It was barely more than a metal frame with a threadbare mattress. The metal bars had dug painfully into her bones for the few days she tried to sleep on it. Eventually she took to sleeping on the floor. It was more comfortable by far but still gave her stiff muscles. Sleeping on a real mattress had done little to ease the ache. 

She shifted slowly up to her elbows and glanced around. Clothes were littered on the floor. A serving tray of dirty dishes sat on the dresser across the room and a half full glass of water on the nightstand. She looked at the alarm clock and noted that it was the middle of the afternoon. 

She didn’t know how long she’d slept or how many days had passed since her rescue. She felt grimy and dirty and knew she hadn’t been bathed since then. She decided not to wait around for someone to help her and hoisted herself out of the bed. 

With stiff legs, she made her way to the bathroom and blinked rapidly against the bright white light that penetrated her eyes. She smiled at the bouquet of black roses that were situated in the middle of the counter. Ivar had even left a short note expressing his love. He didn’t date stamp it so she didn’t know when he’d written it but she settled it back on the counter anyway, contentment thriving through her veins. 

She switched the shower head on high and undressed. Someone, probably Ivar, had dressed her simply. She pulled the black comfort t-shirt over her head and slipped her panties down her legs. The dirt and grime from the concrete room she’d been held in still decorated her body in streaks of gray and black and brown. She looked at her face in the mirror and narrowed her eyes at the vibrant purple bruise along her jaw and the dried blood that had caked itself in her nostrils and along her upper lip. 

She tried to comb the rat's nest that was her hair so she didn’t tangle it further in the shower but there was little hope for the strands. She pushed it back from her face and stepped into the shower when the steam fogged up the mirror beyond sight. 

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth. The hot air filled her lungs and she felt herself relax. Her muscles began to unclench and she could feel her body disengaging from fight or flight mode. 

Once the trembling in her hands had stopped, she picked up Ivar’s shampoo and dropped a generous dollop in her hand. She massaged the minty soap through her hair and shivered as her scalp began to tingle. 

She combed her fingers through the knots as best she could, wincing at the extra sharp tugs that befell her scalp when she came to a particularly vicious snarl. She rinsed the lather and began again, working to clean all the grease and grime from her hair that she could manage.

She used her own rose scented body wash to scrub the dirt and grime from her body, scrubbing twice like she did for her hair, before turning to the leave in conditioner. She worked the lather into her hair before tilting her head back and closing her eyes, letting the hot water pelt her chest and stomach. 

She startled at the sound of the bathroom slamming open. She barely had time to shut the water off before the shower door slid open and she was pulled into Ivar’s arms. He didn’t seem to mind that she was soaking wet and dampening his clothes. He pulled her out of the steam and lifted her, settling her on the counter top. She shivered against the temperature difference and he left her arms only long enough to wrap a towel around her shoulders. 

He returned to her embrace and she wrapped her arms and legs around him fully, holding him in the embrace of her body. She felt him sign against her neck and knew it was a weight leaving his shoulders. He pulled back and pushed her hair behind her ears with the flat of his palm. She nuzzled into the contact. 

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his fingers combing through the wet strands of her hair. She nodded against his palm and tangled her fingers in the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck. 

“How many people did you kill searching for me?” She asked. He smirked and stepped out of her embrace. He took a second towel from the rack on the wall and began meticulously drying her off. He started from the top, softly stroking the towel over her hair, squeezing the ends. He trailed it across her shoulders and down her arms, stroking over the crease of her elbow and over the backs of her hands. He even toweled off the spaces between her fingers.

“Innumerable. There is no number that will equal how precious your life is to me.” He answered. He brought the towel to her legs and traced her thighs and hips. She sucked in a soft breath when he gently toweled off the space between her legs, stroking the curls and dragging between the crease of her thigh. He smirked before stepping back and lifting first one leg and then the other, settling the balls of each foot on his chest and he dried her calves and feet. 

When he was satisfied, he pulled open the mirror and reached for her lotion and moisturizer. She closed her eyes and he traced his fingers gently over the planes of her face, taking care with her bruises. He rubbed in her moisturizer before opening her lotion and smoothing his hands over her chest. She shuddered when he worked the lather into her breasts, the spaces of his fingers catching on her nipples in a way that she wasn’t a hundred percent certain was accidental. 

She opened her eyes when he withdrew and almost shouted when he lifted her from the counter and returned to the bedroom. She let him settle her on the bed as he pulled a new shirt, his, and new underwear, hers, from the dresser.

He took her breath away when he dropped to a knee before her and, not once breaking eye contact, slid her panties up her legs. She shifted so he could settle them over her hips. He hovered over her, his mouth a hair's breadth away from hers but denied her a kiss. “If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s working.” She whispered. He grinned before picking up the new t-shirt and sliding it over her head without ceremony. She laughed as she pulled her head through the neck and slid her arms through the sleeves.

Ivar grew serious as soon as she reappeared and she twisted around on the bed to face him. She let him examine her face, which she knew was a mess of cuts and bruises. “I’m fine, Ivar.” She said.

He met her eyes and gave her a sad smile. She leaned forward into his space. “You know, this whole time I’ve been awake, you haven’t kissed me.” Ivar tilted his head to the side, his smile growing playful. “Kiss me, husband.” She said, and Ivar was unable to do anything but obey. 

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue seeking entrance almost immediately. She moaned and pressed forward, deepening their kiss. Ivar groaned and pulled back, licking his lip. She grinned at him, blood on her teeth. Ivar growled and leaned forward, his hand settling at her throat and squeezing.

She groaned as Ivar tilted her head to the side and trailed kisses down the side of her throat. They left fire in their wake and Aaline sighed, settling her hands on Ivar’s forearms as he maneuvered her head whichever way he wanted.

She trailed her hands up his arms to his shoulders, tightening her fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt. “There’s something that I have to tell you.” Ivar hummed as he licked a line up the left side of her throat. She moaned when he nipped at the hinge of her jaw. 

“I’ve been meaning to say it for awhile butー” She’s cut off as a whimper works its way past her lips when Ivar sucked a mark into her throat at the curve of her neck and shoulder. Ivar hummed and switched sides, trailing nipping kisses up the other side of her neck. She knew she’d have marks to show for his affections. 

“What did you want to say?” He whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He traced the curve of it with his tongue before biting the lobe. She gasped and clutched tighter as his shoulders. 

“I didn’t tell you before. I was afraid.” Ivar pulled back and met her eyes, his hands moving to cup her face. His thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. She blinked at him, her hands releasing his shirt and smoothing out the fabric.

“I love you.” She whispered, her voice trembling. Ivar hummed and stroked his thumb across her cheek. He leaned for and settled his forehead against hers.

“As I love you.” He responded. Aaline released a watery laugh before surging forward and kissing him. Ivar laughed and opened his mouth to her, letting her devour him. She sat up on her knees and pressed bodily against him. Ivar groaned and stroked his hands down her back, reveling in the feeling of his wife safe in his arms again. 

Aaline giggled as Ivar’s hands smoothed up her back, taking her t-shirt with him on his way. She settled in his lap, relief flowing through her veins as her husband proceeded to make love to her.

@dreamlesswonder86 @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron-nightcourt @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx @revolution-starter @0hsappho @love-all-things-writing