#ivar x oc

[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!

[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.

If you like it, please reblog!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[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.

[aissa-snapped]

The Heathen and the Christian

Ivar the boneless x reader ( OC)

Word count: 3401

SUMMARY:When a young anglo-saxon meets Ivar in the woods, she thinks he is a nice innocent boy, only to be shocked when she finds out who he REALLY is and what he is capable of.

A/N:This is my 2nd time writing with Vikings. I hope yall like it. I am also apologizing for (possible) mistranslations of irish and icelandic. I might do a part two to this series cuz i like how its going. Also not readproof

1-Oh Cernunnos god of the forest bless me and guide me.

2- WAIT

3-That one is mine

4- Do that again and you`re dead

Wandering the woods at this time of the year, gave any passer-by a spectacular and magical scenery. The rays of sunshine were breaking through the branches, illuminating the forest in the most wonderful ways. Summer was without a doubt the best time of the year. The weather was finally favorable for farmers, crops were flourishing and nature was thriving. But there was a downside to it. This season naturally brought along raiding parties coming from the north, with the intention of pillaging and eradicating every village in sight of any gold or treasure.

Villagers were adivsed to be extremely wary of their surroundings, and in case of any suspicious sighting to report to the guards.

Walking out of the small one-room cottage, Frigyth took her woven basket, hanging it on her left arm and took steady steps towards the neighboring woods that surrounded her village. She was a young maiden, '' ready to be married'' according to her parents, who took her tasks very lightly. She came from a typical peasant family, with three other sisters and one brother. She was at that age where she cared more about enjoying life than actually being helpful around the house.

She begged her mother days in a row to let her go harvest some berries from the woods, seeing as that was her only opportunity to explore nature and relax a tad bit. She took her already forming path that led her into a meadow, hidden from view by some on-growing bushes. She found a larger boulder, and took a seat in a dent, placing her basket next to her. She had plenty of time to finish her task, she thought, so for now she could enjoy a little bit of warmth.

Clasping her hands in a prayer-way, she took a glance around her, making sure she was alone, and started chanting an old prayer she used to hear as a child from her grandmother.

Ó Cernunnos Dia na foraoise

beannaigh dom agus treoraigh

mé tríd an bhforaois...

From a small distance, the prayer spoken by the girl was heard by a trespasser, that was lurking around in the woods seeking some alone time. Instead, the stranger took a detour and followed the voice, leading him into the hidden meadow. upon his arrival, he analyzed the young lady up closely, noticing how she had her eyes closed, and was in a vulnerable state. It would`ve been very easy for the young Viking leader to take his dagger out and kill her on the spot, which was what he should be doing, otherwise he risked getting noticed by the saxon girl, who in return would alert the whole village of the presence of Vikings.

Or perhaps he could kidnap her, get any valuable information out of her and THEN kill her. That seemed like a better idea.

The warrior got lost in his thoughts for a few moments that only when he heard the girl gasp did he snap back to the current situation he was in. The young woman that was not so long ago sat in a peaceful position was now standing up, grabbing her basket in front of her, as if she thought it would protect her from the unknown boy. You did not need to be a schooled noble to notice that the stranger`s attire was different from the regular anglo-saxon clothing, and the weapons well secured around the belt hugging his waist were a big tell-tale sign that she had just ran face to face with a Viking.

Frigyth was not sure what she could possibly do to escape this situation. If she ran, would she meet other Vikings? Or perhaps if she yelled for help, the barbarians would much faster come in to the aid of the mysterious boy and do her in. Her mind along with her heart were racing, blood pulsing through her whole body, as if it was preparing for whatever would happen next. Feeling a giddy feeling in her stomach, she spotted her way out, then she got into a running position, one leg in front of the other, slightly leaning on it and being ready to sprint at any given time.

The Viking however, seemed too lost in his tracks to think of what he should do to her. He was observing her. Long, curly hair, with a vibrant color that glimmered in the sun. He felt sort of... entranced by her?

Before he let her go, he wolf whistled at her, gaining her attention. '' I am Ivar.'' He spoke in a very thick anglo-saxon accent. Frigyth did a double-take, not being sure she actually heard him speaking in HER language. While on the outside she remained frozen, her mind was filled with multiple questions. Probably because she has never heard foreigners speak her language- or because she has never faced a norman before.

'' What is your name?'' Asked the Viking in an iritated tone. The young girl was not sure it was a good idea to tell divulge her full identity. But realizing she had no other choice, she defeteadly answered.

'' Frigyth.'' It was a simple and short answer, for which she hoped it would suffice. But by the looks on the warrior, he smirked slowly at her, watching with predator eyes as she was shifting uncomfortably her weight from one foot to the other.

'' What was that prayer you were saying earlier? It did not sound like your language.'' The maiden`s heart started beating at an alarming rate. Deep down she knew, that the prayer she was chanting earlier was considered heresy and it was forbidden among the christians. But it`s not like him, a Viking, would go and tell on her to a guard. After all, weren`t they pagans as well?

'' It`s an ancient language. I was praying to Cernunnos, the god of the forest, fertility. I- It`s forbidden to pray to any other god other than the One True God. But my grandmother used to tell me that the old Gods never left and are ever present.'' She finished, admitting what has been laying in her heart for many years, sighing in happiness when she mentioned her grandmother.

To say Ivar was shocked at the newfound information was an understatement. In all his life, he had never encountered a christian praying to a different deity. He was getting more and more intrigued by the girl, and the logical part of his brain that was constantly nudging him to kill her was shutting down completely.

The young leader-who had previously found a good sitting spot on the grass- nudged his head towards the empty place next to him, indicating to her to take a seat. With careful, calculated steps, she approached him, leaving a few centimetres between them, just in case he was going to strangle her, or who knows what else.

'' So... tell me...'' He trailed off, in hopes that the girl would tell him something about herself.

With frowning brows, she kept silent, waiting for him to continue with a question. Ivar rolled his eyes, and asked her about her family.

'' We`re but a family humble peasants .'' The Viking could tell she loved cutting straight to the chase, not giving out any other detail unless asked.

Gaining all the courage she could muster, she turned slightly towards him, asking the dreaded question.

'' Where did you come from?''

Raising his eyebrows, Ivar chuckled darkly, shaking his head softly.

'' I don`t think you want to know.'' He admitted cynically.

'' Will that get me in trouble?'' She asked shyly.

'' You could say that.'' Smiling softly, Frigyth directioned her eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the burning stares of the curious Viking whose hand was slowly reaching up to her face, pausing for a second and taking a hold of a piece of her hair, and twirling it around his finger -almost lovingly so- which made her flinch for a second, before relaxing back and letting him play with strands of her hair.

The atmosphere between the two was peaceful, even though there was silence, but it was a welcoming one, in which neither felt the need to interrupt it. It was as if an unspoken rule was set. Both simply wanted to sit down and get lost between the thousands of trees and take a break from their societal obligations. Ivar leaned back on his elbows, straightening his legs in front of him, to give them a stretch, which gave the girl a full view of his crippled legs. She widened her eyes in surprise, but quickly gained her composure when she noticed Ivar clenching his jaw in anger, averting her eyes elsewhere.

It felt like they were there for an hour or two, when Frigyth sighed sadly and stood up, clenching the handle of the backet in her left fist and started taking small steps towards the hidden entrance marked by two bushes with a beaten track in between them. Ivar frowned, his eyes following her figure sharply, similar to a wolf following his prey.

'' I should go.'' Looking at her feet, she was swinging the basket slowly in her hand, as if waiting for the boy to stop her from going, although, deep down, she knew she was running behind with her tasks and she was bound to return home eventually, and her mother would not be happy if she came back empty handed.

Ivar nodded stoically, breaking his eyes from the girl and with a loud groan, he rolled onto his back, and began crawling towards the girl, ignoring her stares of bewilderment at his methods of traveling.

'' I should probably go too.'' He responded and begudgingly so.

'' It was nice meeting you.'' Frigyth complimented, with a small voice.

'' We will meet again, christian.'' He winked at her, which caused the maiden to let out a nervous laugh, having no idea what he could have possibly meant by that, and on that note, they both departed their own ways.

Upon her arrival back home, she was welcome by her worried mother, who seemed to have a look of concern mixed with irritation displaying across her face.

'' Where have you been?! It`s almost dark outside. And what is this? This is all you gathered in all this time you were gone?!'' She pointed at her basket, which was barely filled with any berries.

Frigyth shrugged off the hand her mother had placed on her shoulder, sprinting inside the cottage. The one-room hut was warm and all her family was gathered round at the table, chatting lively amongst eachother. Her presence was sensed by her father, and one by one her siblings all paused mid-conversation, to look at the newcomer. Her father smiled warmly at her, motioning with his hand to take a seat next to him.

'' We were wondering when you would come back Frig. Your mother was worrying terribly.'' He laughed, patting her back twice.

'' And I had all the reasons to. You know what they tell us, the priests. The woods are no longer safe.'' Her mother huffed angrily, stepping into the cottage and slamming the door shut, checking the small window incorporated in it for any intruders that might be lurking outside their homes. She took her seat, next to her husband and continued eating her freshly cooked pottage.

Frigyth`s father let out a breath of air, rubbing his face with his face. The rebel daughter rolled her eyes, pretending to be oblivious to what her mother was saying. Should she tell anyone that today she has met and spoken to a possible Viking? If she did, then she would reveal to everyone that she had been slacking rather than actually gathering food for the family, and she risked losing the task she was given, and probably forced to return to her old duties, which were mostly around the cottage. So she took the smarted option, and never mentioned the encounter with the stranger.

'' I know. Aelflead and the other blacksmiths think that we are to prepare for an attack.'' The father confessed sadly.

'' What makes you think that, dad?'' The youngest sibling asked, with her curious natured eyes.

'' Because sweetie, we have been ordered by the king to forge as many swords and shields as fast as we can manage. But when we tried asking the guards why, he refused to tell us. They were all acting suspicious.'' He shrugged, ripping a piece of the wholemeal bread and dipping it in the stew.

Frigyth was starting to get nervous. What if they are about to be attacked? But again, Ivar did not look dangerous. Evenmore, he was crippled. Surely that meant he was maybe thrown out of his tribe and forced to die alone. And even if she decided to tell her family about her encounter, in what way would that help them escape the fury of a Viking raid?

The contact she had with the mysterious boy was what kept her awake most of the night, and by the time her body was exhausted and allowed her to fall asleep, the rooster was already crowing, alerting the family that it was dawn and that meant time to go back to work. However, something felt odd. While Frigyth`s family members were grumbingly getting out of bed, the young maiden heard screams and clanks of swords outside. When realization hit her, she alerted her family to be silent for a second in order for them to pay attention to what might have been going outside.

''Haeddi, take the girls and hide in the barn. Wilfred and I are going outside to see what is happening.'' The father instructed his wife. ''Here, grab this.'' He threw a newly forged seax to his son, and he took an old rusty looking blade for himself, gesturing with his head towards the door. '' Let`s go.'' With one solemn look, Frigyth`s father glanced at his girls, holding a strong and loving eye contact with his wife, silently reassuring her that everything was going to be all right.

When the girls were left alone, Haeddi looked at her daughters, trying to contain the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. '' We`re going outside. Stick close to each other. Once we reach the barn, find a hiding spot. Underneath the hay, behind it. I don`t` know. But do it as fast as you can. We don`t know what awaits us out there.'' The four girls looked at her mother, nodding shakily and following closely behind her towards the door. The mother was counting with her fingers how many seconds they had left before she would open the door and the chaos would start. Frigyth could hear the faint screams of terror coming from the villagers and once the door was open and they started running, everything went in slow motion. The action outside became more vivid. The shrieks and cries of pain were amplified and all of those made the girls run faster than they had ever done so in their entire lives.

Once they safely reached the barn, her mother grabbed the youngest offspring and she chucked them both behind some haystacks. The other two sisters went off climbing on a ladder and finding a safe space to bury in.

Frigyth was looking around, trying to find the first hidin place and duck under it, but to her terror, she was forcefully grabbed by her arm by a very muscular man, that looked like he could eat her alive. She gulped, eyes wide open and heart drumming against her chest, almost as if it was ready to jump out of her chest. He gave her an animalistic smile, that sent shivers down to her spine. Her sisters and mom were watching terrified from the hiding spots how poor Frigyth was going to get killed...or worse.

With an unmatchable force, he turned her around with her back facing him, and raising his axe and readied himself to cut her thin linen dress open, ignoring her pleas and screams to stop, but a powerful voice made him pause mid-action.

''BÍÐA!'' Both the cruel man and Frigyth turned their heads to look at whoever just stopped the brutal Viking. The girl couln`t believe her eyes. Sitting in a single seated strange looking carriage pulled by a beautiful white stallion, sat the very guy that around this time the other day she was enjoying her time with in the meadow.

''ÞESSI ER MINN!!'' Ivar approached the enormous barbarian and pulled him away from his victim by his hair, holding his dagger against his throat.

''Gerðu þetta aftur og þú ert dauður!!'' He spat with venom, letting go of him. When he looked at the shaken lady, he softened his eyes, offering a friendly hand for her to take. She shakily shook her head no, losing any trust she had in him.

Seeing how reluctant she was, Ivar huffed annoyed. '' If you come with me, you`ll be safe.'' He promised. She glanced back at her mother and sisters-who were terrifyingly and confusingly observing the interaction between the two-, looking back and forth between them and him. He instantly put two and two together, and rolled his eyes playfully. '' They will not be harmed IF... you come with me.''

But before she had any chance to speak, her father and brother came rushing to her aid. Wilfred, her brother, seemed unharmed, except for a few cuts here and there and some blood staining his blade, but her father seemed to have a pretty deep cut on his side, that was bleeding alarmingly.

'' STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!'' Her father yelled, pointing his old and chipped sword at the Viking.

Ivar mockingly raised both his arms in surrender, faking a terrified expression. After a few moments, he then grabbed his trusty dagger, swirling it smoothly around his finger and pointing behind him at the army that was currently ravaging the village.

''See that? I am the leader of all of them. I can order them to stop anytime if I want to. That is why I am asking YOU again.'' He pointed his dagger in Frigyth`s direction. '' Are.You.Coming.With.Me?'' He asked slowly, putting an emphasis on each word, to ensure he was being understood.

The curly haired girl looked with saddening eyes at her dad, who was still clutching his sword with all his being, as if believing THAT could actually help her, then at her brother, who was copying his father`s movements, but with less confidence and then at her mother and sisters, who were all shaking their heads no and crying silently, not knowing what the outcome of this woul be.

There was no backing out of this. She had two simple but impactful choices. She either went with him, probably ending up a slave, but at least her family was safe, or so she hoped. Or she could refuse, and get killed by the previous Viking.

With determined steps, she approached Ivar, making him smirk in victory. Her father yelled at her angrily to get back there behind him, but she was already climbing Ivar`s carriage. The young ruler grabbed her hand softly, guiding her to sit on his knees, that she now got to observe, were covered in some sort of metallic braces.

Once she took her seat in his lap, he stroked her hair with one hand, while whispering in her ear. ''Good girl.'' She sat frozen in his lap, letting him wrap a strong arm around her waist to keep her steady.

She took a one last glance at her family, waving sadly at them and struggling to keep her composure.

'' They will be safe, right?! You promised!'' She asked desperately, glacing back at her house, which was now growing to be more and more far away.

'' On my arm ring.'' He pledged, placing his palm over his bracelet for a moment, showing her that he was serious about his oath. Grabbing with one arm the reins and with the other gripping her tightly against him, he yelled something in Old-Norse to the other men, fleeing the village afterwards towards an unknown location to the girl, from where a new life was about to start for her. She could only hope it was going to be good.

[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.

[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 🤍

[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.

Next 》

Chapter 1

The dim light of the sunset filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the room. That light was the most beautiful of the day, yet Selethryth was not looking at the orange sky visible from the window. Instead, the young woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror. She wished she could focus on how the white dress she wore clung to her form so perfectly or admire the way the jewels around her neck sparkled in the fading light. Perhaps she longed to notice how her servant had combed her long hair, making it shine under the warm glow. But she didn't.

Selethryth's gaze was fixed on her own eyes reflected in the glass. How she would have loved to simply look at herself and indulge in the vanity so common among girls her age, like her older sister Eadgifu. But instead, she could only stare and despise what she saw: two eyes, each a different color. One was blue, as clear as the winter sky, while the other was deep brown, like the earth after rain. They never seemed to meet, never seemed to belong together, and in their strange contrast, she was forced to remember how everybody saw her. What everybody called her.

The Witch of Wessex, they whispered behind her back.

Selethryth could feel their stares—the cold eyes that followed her every time she entered the church to pray, as if everyone were waiting for her to burst into flames the moment her feet crossed the threshold of God's house. But it wasn't just in the church where she felt their gaze. At court, the nobles watched her with the same cold curiosity. They tried to hide it behind forced smiles and polite conversation, but she could see the hesitation in their eyes, the way they looked at her as though she might somehow ruin their day with a single glance. They spoke in low voices, making sure their words didn't reach her, but she knew they were discussing her—her strange eyes, the rumors that surrounded her, the whispers that always followed her wherever she went. Their attention was heavy, almost suffocating, and it made her skin prickle with discomfort.

And then, there were the servants. She could sense their wariness as they brought her food, prepared her bath, or combed her hair. Their movements were careful, hesitant, as if afraid that to meet her gaze might invite some curse. As though her eyes alone could condemn them with a glance

The only curse was the one God had cast upon Selethryth the day she was born. The reality of her deformity had shaped her life from an early age. God did not like differences. Any mark, any strange physical feature, was a sign—a sign that the Devil had touched her soul. And nothing could take that away. Her mother, Lady Oswyth, had always told her that, especially when she tried to make Selethryth wash her face with holy water. But it never worked. The water only made her eyes sting. Not even the long days of fasting, meant to regain God's favor, had done any good. And the countless hours of holy lessons—prayers, chants, teachings—hadn't changed anything. If anything, they only made how people perceived her worse.

She remembered the days in her father Lord Godric's castle as sad and lonely, a time when the walls seemed to close in on her, filled with whispers and fearful glances. Her family, devout and strict, had never known how to treat her.

It was during one of those lonely days that they had traveled to King Ecbert's court, as guests. Selethryth's father, eager to seek favor with the King, had hoped the visit would bring some benefit to his lands. And it did—but not in the way her family had expected. For it was Selethryth, not her father, who caught the favor of the King of Wessex.

"My lady is ready," the voice of the woman behind her made Selethryth look up.

"Thank you, Hilda," she said, gathering the skirt of her gown so she could rise more comfortably. "The King awaits."

Selethryth had met the King at the age of five, during a feast. King Ecbert had summoned his loyal lords, as was custom in their lands, to share meals, words, and strategy. Ensuring the loyalty of his lords was something a monarch had to do if he wished to keep the peace.

Selethryth still remembered the first time she entered the Royal Villa. She had been so small back then. The walls seemed to stretch endlessly, towering above her like silent sentinels. But they were nothing like the dark, oppressive walls of her father's castle. There, in Lord Godric's home, every corner seemed to hold a whisper, every shadow a secret. The air was thick with the weight of superstition and fear. But the Royal Villa—Ecbert's villa—was different. The light filtered in through high windows, warm and inviting. The laughter of nobles and the clink of goblets filled the air, and for a moment, she had felt like just another child at a feast, surrounded by the bright colors and sounds of the court. She held no memory of whispers; she was too focused on her dress and the many noble people around her.

Now, after ten years, she had lived many feasts like those, and the whispers had returned. Perhaps they had even grown louder.

"My dear, Selethryth," the King's voice reached her as she opened the door to his chambers.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she answered, bowing with elegance.

King Ecbert was seated on a carved wooden chair in front of a table laden with a simple but rich spread—enough for two, yet lavish for such an intimate setting. There was a roast pheasant, its golden skin crisped to perfection, surrounded by steamed root vegetables—parsnips and carrots—that had been lightly seasoned with herbs. A dish of pickled onions and cabbage sat beside it, the tangy scent cutting through the richness of the meat. To one side, there was a small bowl of soft, warm bread, the edges still steaming, and a wheel of cheese made from the finest milk of the local farms. A flagon of dark red wine gleamed in the dim light of the chamber.

The King gestured for her to sit. "Come, child. You must be hungry."

Selethryth smiled at him before making her way toward the chair set aside for her.

"Forgive me for being late," she said, but the King waved his hand dismissively, signaling that there was no need for apologies.

She nodded in acknowledgment, then reached out to fill her plate with the dishes in front of her. As her hand hovered over the food, her gaze drifted to the empty chair on the other side of the King. Lady Judith was not there. That meant he must have heard.

Selethryth was frequently invited to dine with the King, his daughter-in-law and mistress, Judith, and sometimes with his son, Prince Alfred. But tonight, the table was set for two.

Selethryth was the ward of the King, which granted her many privileges and advantages. And she knew that people were sure she had bewitched the monarch to elevate the position of her family and herself. She could swear she had never done anything on purpose to earn the King's favor. But that didn't mean he didn't believe she had some power—that she was, in fact, a witch...

"The physician told me you had trouble sleeping last night," the King said, chewing a piece of chicken, his gaze intent upon her.

Selethryth averted her eyes, knowing full well that the King didn't want her taking any tonic to ease her troubled dreams. The medicine would dull her memory of them, and she would not be able to recall the visions that haunted her.

"I had a bad headache, Your Grace," she explained quietly, her voice carefully neutral. "My sister thought it best that I take something to ease it."

"So it was not a dream?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

Selethryth shook her head, a faint, practiced smile on her lips. "No, Your Grace," she replied softly. "I was simply not feeling well."

"Good," he said, his voice pleased. "If that's the case, I'm glad you've found a remedy for your headache."

Selethryth bowed her head in silent acknowledgment, before reaching for her goblet and taking a sip of water. King Ecbert could be kind, but she knew he was also a man of immense ambition, and the reason for her position at court was a clear example of that.

Since the Witch of Wessex had entered the King's court, the power of Wessex had grown immeasurably. Before that, no one would have thought that the King with the smallest lands would become the ruler of both Wessex and Mercia. But the whispers—those whispers that never ceased—spoke of superstition. The people believed that her strange appearance, her eyes that were unlike any other, had played a part in Ecbert's rise. They said she had cursed the late Queen Kwenthrith, causing her subjects to turn against her, allowing the King to seize his opportunity and fulfill his ambition.

But that wasn't what had happened.

Selethryth had cast no spell. She had made no curse. She had been five years old. A child, too young to know the weight of ambition or power. She had simply had a nightmare—a terrifying dream of the end of Queen Kwenthrith's reign.

That night, terrified, she had confided in King Ecbert. A few days later, the message arrived: the Queen's position in Mercia had become precarious, and her rule soon crumbled. Ecbert, ever the strategist, saw it as a sign. From that day forward, he had taken her as his ward, believing that she had been touched by God—that her strange eyes were a blessing, not a curse. He was sure that she had been sent to him for some reason; she was a tool for his greater ambitions, a pawn he could use to shape the future of his kingdom.

Selethryth had never quite agreed with him though. His words, even if not touched by hate, were still saying that there was something different in her. To him, she possessed magic, and that was not a sign that God favored her. But the very contrary. The Devil was behind those manifestations, her mother had always told her that.

Lady Oswyth never understood why the King held her daughter in such high regard. She had always seen Selethryth's eyes and dreams to be a sign that the Devil loved her daughter. And she had begged her husband to leave the child to the mad King and never return. She did not want to be surrounded by sinners who favored the way of the Devil. But Lord Godric cared more about the position of his family than sins. That didn't mean that he was grateful to Selethryth. She barely saw him.

Even if she didn't quite understand if King Ecbert was a man with a deep, open mind, or a mad one, she knew that even if he didn't want her to take proper sleep and wanted to know everything about her dreams, he had, in his own way, taken care of her, ensuring that she was well-educated and well-protected. Over the years, his affection for her had grown, not just for her dreams, but for her mind. "You are very intelligent, Selethryth," he often said. She had become more than just a ward to him; she had become a confidante, a quiet observer in his court, someone whose opinion he valued, if only in secret.

Her position granted her privileges—privileges that many other women of her station would never know. She had been given access to the finest tutors in the kingdom, and through them, she had learned many things. She knew Latin and Greek, languages that were considered the foundation of knowledge. She had studied rhetoric and philosophy, learning the basics of logic and debate. She had even studied herbs and medicine with the court physician, who practically lived at her side.

Ecbert had seen the potential in her not only as a vessel for prophecy but as a sharp mind capable of understanding the world beyond the court. Her education was his way of preparing her for something greater. He believed she would be an important ally—an asset to his cause, an asset to his cause, and to the future of his kingdom.

"Alfred told me you are teaching him how to dance," the King said with fondness, as he always did when speaking of Alfred. Everyone knew that Prince Alfred was not Ecbert's nephew, since Judith had conceived him with a monk allied with the Heathens. Just thinking about it made Selethryth hear her mother's disapproving tone, as if Judith were her own daughter. But Selethryth had grown up with Alfred, and he was kind and intelligent. She enjoyed spending time with the Prince and hated the way her mother whispered about him and Judith.

The King's mistress was a very different woman from the rest of the court. She valued culture and opinions, regardless of whether they came from a man or a woman. Judith carried herself with such confidence that Selethryth often found herself admiring the lady. She had committed adultery, and for that, one of her ears had been cut off, but she held her head high, proud and undeterred. Selethryth often wondered how she managed. The young lady still felt everything around her so heavy, both the weight of courtly politics and the harshness of her religious family.

"He wanted to play chess," she answered the King, who smiled. "I asked for a dance in return."

Ecbert chuckled. "He is quite fond of you," he said, taking a sip from his goblet. "I'm glad that you've grown to become such a precious friend to one another."

Selethryth smiled. "As do I."

"Tomorrow morning we are going hunting," the King announced. "Would you like to come hawking with us?"

It wasn't unusual for the King to ask her that, and Selethryth liked riding across the prairies, even though she knew that King Ecbert's son would also be coming. Aethelwulf was never rude to her, but out of all the King's family, he was the one who trusted her the least. He looked at her with suspicion and weariness. Selethryth was used to it, but it was easier to hide in the castle when someone looked at her that way. Out on the open plains, however, there was nowhere to go; she would just have to endure. She knew she couldn't refuse the King, or her father would not be pleased.

"I shall tell my father, Your Grace," she said, bowing to show gratitude. "Thank you, for your kind invitation."

When she returned to the chambers she shared with her family, her mother's gaze was immediately upon her, sharp and disapproving. Oswyth always found it improper for her daughter to have private audiences with the King. It was a matter of status, of propriety—things Selethryth had little control over. But her father, Lord Godric, would never allow her to turn down Ecbert. To him, she was a tool—already labeled a witch—and it was better that she be used by the King than not used at all. He cared little if her reputation was further tarnished, as long as their family grew in power.

Selethryth didn't bother to try and explain herself anymore. There were too many people pulling her in different directions, seeking to manipulate her for their own gain—the King, her father, even her mother. And when it came to the court, she preferred not to think about how they saw her. She could see it in her mother's eyes every day, and it was a pain she didn't want to endure. Selethryth felt like she was tied to a log, floating helplessly down a rushing river. She couldn't escape, and she couldn't drown; she could only keep drifting along on endless, merciless days.

"Mother thinks the King wants you in his bed," Selethryth heard her sister Eadgifu murmur, her voice heavy with an accusation as Hilda combed Selethryth's hair before bed.

"She should quit speaking such madness," Selethryth replied sharply, gesturing for Hilda to leave them alone. Once the door clicked shut behind the servant, Selethryth turned to face her sister fully. "And she shouldn't speak such things when servants are around."

"They already speak about you," Eadgifu said, her eyes narrow with concern, though there was a hint of something else there—something darker that made Selethryth's chest tighten.

"So we should give them more reason to?" Selethryth retorted, rising from her chair and pacing a little, her frustration rising. "Let them gossip, let them talk. It's what they do best, after all."

Eadgifu's face was pale, her lips pressed tightly together, and her eyes flickered nervously toward the door. "You should pray it is the truth," she answered, her voice trembling slightly with worry. "No one but our family and the King know about your dreams, Selethryth. And if he adores you without ulterior motives, people will surely start to believe you're a witch."

Selethryth froze, the word hanging in the air like a curse. Her heart beat louder in her chest. Witch.

"I'm not a witch!" she hissed, her voice a harsh whisper, her eyes darting quickly to the door. She could feel the cold stone walls closing in on her as if the entire castle was listening, waiting for her to make a mistake. She stepped closer to her sister, her face tight with panic. "Please, Eadgifu, don't speak of such things. Don't speak of me that way."

Eadgifu's face softened for a moment, but her expression was still tinged with worry. "Selethryth," she said, her voice laced with a kind of fearful tenderness that only a deeply religious person could have. "You know how dangerous this is. Just a word from Rome and you'll be accused of witchcraft."

Selethryth could feel her eyes fill with tears, "I have done nothing," she whispered to her sister, "They are nothing but dreams. Just dreams. And my eyes..."

"The Lord gives us signs, sister," in her voice Selethryth could feel all her sadness, "Your eyes and dreams are signs." Then she took Selethryth's face in her hands, "I love you sister, I do."

Selethryth looked at her with pleading eyes, "I'm not a witch." She insisted in a whisper.

Eadgifu didn't respond immediately. Instead, she lowered her gaze and crossed herself, as though praying for guidance. It was a ritual, almost automatic for her, as if asking God for protection—something Selethryth had long ago stopped believing in. Not when she had seen the way God treated her.

"The physician will be here soon," Eadgifu murmured, her voice softer now. The physician, assigned to her by King Ecbert, had been a quiet, ever-watchful presence. He helped her, but he also spied on her for the King.

"I know," she said flatly, getting away from her sister so that she could walk towards her bed. Selethryth lied down pulling the covers up to her chin. The night felt colder than usual, and the weight of her own thoughts pressed down on her like a stone.

Her sister hesitated before getting into her own bed, as if unsure whether to speak again. After a long silence, Eadgifu whispered, almost as if to herself, "I pray for you everyday, dear sister." She said, "I love you, no matter what."

Selethryth's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sickening feeling in her stomach. Tomorrow would come with its own burdens. It always did.

After the physician's visit, Selethryth managed to fell asleep. But this time it was not an empty slumber.

She was flying. It felt beautiful to fly.

The wind tugged at her, wild and unrelenting, as the land beneath her shifted, a vast, endless stretch of green trees and towering mountains. The sky above was a brilliant blue, the likes of which she had never seen before. No castles. No walls. Just people—small wooden houses dotting the landscape, their inhabitants running freely, laughing, untouched by fear.

Selethryth felt the wind in her hair, the vastness of the world spread beneath her, but something was wrong. There was an emptiness in the air, a void that gnawed at her.

The raven appeared, its dark wings cutting through the sky like a shadow. It was not a young bird, but old and tired, its flight heavy with exhaustion. Selethryth's heart tightened as she watched it fly, slow and deliberate, its eyes distant. It was alone. It had no place to land.

She followed, drawn to the raven as if it had some purpose that she could not understand. Below, four figures moved about their lives, unbothered by the raven's presence. But one—one figure, lying on the ground—looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers. She felt a strange pull toward him, but the raven beckoned her onward.

She followed.

The raven soared across the sky, leading her over forests and waters, through lands she did not recognize but somehow knew. The landscape changed, familiar yet foreign. She could not place it. The raven's wings beat slowly, as though it had been flying for too long, its journey near its end.

It was joined by an owl. White, graceful, the owl flew beside the raven, as if they had known each other for years, perhaps even lifetimes. Their wings brushed in a final, bittersweet dance. But then the raven broke away, and Selethryth felt the shift in the air. The sadness was palpable, thickening the sky around them.

She could not stop. She followed. She had to.

The raven flew on. For days? For weeks? The passage of time felt irrelevant. Only the raven mattered, its flight, its weariness, its sorrow.

And then, with no warning, the raven faltered. Its wings failed. It could fly no more. Selethryth watched as it struggled, helpless against the force of its own exhaustion. It landed, clumsy and slow, and the earth seemed to swallow it whole. The raven collapsed.

A snake appeared, slithering from the earth, its scales glistening in the dim light. It circled the fallen bird, and without hesitation, it devoured it whole.

Selethryth's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream, to stop it, but she could do nothing. She was powerless.

And then, the land began to change.

The earth rotted, turning black and foul. The sun disappeared, leaving only darkness. The world around her trembled with fear and despair. The cries of the dying echoed in the distance, the air thick with sorrow.

Selethryth wanted to flee, but she couldn't move. Her wings had failed her, too.

"How have we come to this?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

The darkness closed in around her. Everything was lost.

And then, as if the world itself were ending, Selethryth felt herself falling. Her wings could not save her. She was plummeting, faster and faster, toward the ground. The earth rushed up to meet her, and she closed her eyes, bracing for impact. She knew what was coming.

And then, as she hit the ground, she woke up screaming.

*******

Taglist: @g-cf2020 @ugh-whytho

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[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.

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