#ivar x oc

[witchezandwonderz]

Memories in the Dark

Pairing: Ivar x female Reader Word Count: 2.4K Master List Prompt List (Requests are open) Ivar just loves giving his wife head basically, that's the plot TW: Explicit sexual content, non-consensual elements (lack of verbal consent but believe me- she doesn't mind),jealousy/possessiveness, explicit language. Tagged list: (If you want to be added or removed, please let me know.) @leftoverp1zza @somebody6468 @cheesesandwichsanto @diorpar @tessakate @miksmom-blog @whitedarkmoonflower @imagines-halfpai @thenameswinter99 @oddsnendsfanfics I am honestly just quite sorry about this, once I started I couldn't stop. 18+ ONLY!!!

The great hall smelled of roasted meat and mead, firelight flickering off stone walls and polished steel. Laughter and murmurs echoed under high timber beams as Ivar lounged beside his Queen on the raised dais, his throne towering but abandoned. He preferred to sit closer to her, always within reach.

She was laughing, lips red with wine, one hand resting lightly on the carved wood of her chair. Her gown was dark crimson, trimmed in gold, the slit of the dress just high enough so that he could glimpse the soft skin of her thigh when she shifted.

Ivar watched her like a starving man. His Queen. His wife. His prize and his punishment.

He leaned closer, voice low against her ear.

“You’re torturing me, sweet one.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, slow and teasing. “Good.”

But her tone faltered slightly when she felt the drag of his fingers along her ankle beneath the table. She knew this game. She adored this game.

He smiled, feral.

Without another word, he slipped from his chair, lowering himself to the ground.

Not one soul in the hall dared react.

Everyone knew better. These were loyal men and women-servants, warriors, guards. Even if they noticed, they would never breathe a word. It was understood: Ivar worshiped his Queen, and she allowed him to. Plus, this would not be the first time that they would be subject to watching the couples intimate moments.

The space beneath the table was dim and cloaked in shadows, the long tablecloth brushing his back. Ivar’s body settled easily on the furs, his fingers pushing her skirts higher and higher until he found bare thigh.

He exhaled a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. Despite it being the millionth time, it was always as exciting as the first.

She tried not to react. Her voice remained level as she continued speaking to the advisors beside her, but her spine had stiffened, one hand gripping the edge of her goblet.

He mouthed along the skin slowly, reverently, until he reached the wet heat between her legs.

No underclothes. Just soft, slick skin. For him.

Always for him.

He licked her slowly, deliberately, eyes closed in ecstasy. His tongue slid through her folds, teasing, tasting, circling her clit in gentle flicks, savoring the way she tensed above him.

She reached for her wine again, trying not to spill as her knees parted slightly in silent surrender.

Ivar moaned into her cunt like it was holy.

He gripped her thighs, holding her steady, feasting like a man dying of thirst. His mouth worked with practiced devotion-tongue pushing, sucking, flicking-until he felt her twitch under his lips.

He could tell she was close. He could always tell.

Then she gripped the back of his head through the cloth, subtle but firm. A warning. Enough.

He withdrew with a final kiss, breathless and hard beneath his tunic. He licked his lips and pulled her dress down carefully, reverently, before crawling out from beneath the table.

His Queen didn’t meet his eyes. Not yet.

But her hands were trembling slightly as she rose.

“We're done here,” she said coolly to the table. “Everyone out.”

No one dared disobey.

As the hall cleared, Ivar could not help but think of the first time he took her innocence in a crowded hall-

It had been before she was his.

Before vows were spoken, before crowns were exchanged. But she was already his, even if neither of them had said it aloud.

That night, the hall had been overflowing with noise and ale, warriors boasting loud and red-faced, women twirling through the smoke-hazed air with laughter on their lips. Ivar’s brothers had been loudest of all, sprawled at the long table beside him.

“You need a woman, brother,” Ubbe had said with a grin, slapping him on the back. “A real one, not just some wide-eyed maid who cries if you look at her wrong.”

“He needs to become a man first,” Hvitserk had added with a smirk, tankard half-raised. “Has he even had a cunt in his lap yet, or is that still too complicated for our little cripple?”

Laughter.

Ivar had gritted his teeth, jaw clenched so tight his temples throbbed. But then… he saw her.

Standing near the firepit, golden in the glow, the new girl with the sharp tongue and curious eyes. The one who never bowed her head quite low enough. The one who met his stare and smirked.

Her words from the previous night echoed in his head, he had confessed his insecurities to her, a surprising moment of vulnerability. She had told him that there were other ways to please a woman. When he naively asked how, she had grinned at him and asked a simple question- “you have a tongue, have you not?”

And that was it.

He called her over.

Her steps were unhurried, confident, hips swaying under the deep blue of her skirts. When she reached him, she dipped her head respectfully to the table, then raised her eyes- only for Ivar.

“Sit, please” he said.

She did.

The brothers were amused, elbows jabbing, whispering behind their hands.

But then Ivar turned his back to them and leaned close, his voice for her alone. “I’m going to put my mouth between your thighs. Right here. Right now.”

Her breath hitched-barely. But she nodded, slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What are you waiting for?"

And so he did.

He slid from his bench and ducked beneath the table like it was a battlefield he was claiming.

There were gasps. Confusion. But no one could see. Not fully.

Just the shape of her body as she leaned back slightly, thighs parting under the table’s edge.

Just the flash of her leg, pale and bare as the slit in her dress slipped higher.

Just the sound of her breath- hitched, soft, then sharper as it turned into a moan.

And the sight of Ivar’s head- bobbing slowly, rhythmically- beneath the edge of the tablecloth.

His brothers had fallen silent.

He tasted her like a man possessed, tongue circling her with eager worship, savoring her slick sweetness as she tried, failed, to contain her sounds. Her hand slipped beneath the table, fingers twisting in his hair as he devoured her.

And when her thighs began to tremble, when her breath caught with a whispered “Ivar…” that nearly undid him, he pressed one final kiss to her soaked, swollen cunt and re-emerged.

The entire table was watching.

He reached for his drink and raised it high.

“To becoming a man.”

As the thoughts spilled through Ivar's mind, he looked up to notice that the only people who remained were now him, and his Queen.

He looked at her, his lips parted to speak, but she had other ideas.

She grabbed his collar with the force of a conqueror claiming spoils, her mouth crashing against his. The kiss was heat and hunger, bruising and breathless, all tongue.

They didn’t make it to the chambers.

Instead, she shoved him back onto the dais, and he fell with a grunt, landing among the furs and scattered cushions. Her hands were already working at the fastenings of his tunic, and he was fumbling with her skirts, lifting them, needing her- needing to be inside her.

The echoes of their moans filled the empty hall, wet and guttural, the throne room transformed into their altar.

And as she rode him-gown bunched around her waist, hair wild, her palms braced against his chest- his mind was dragged back to another time-

The battle had ended just hours before. The field had been slick with blood and strewn with bodies, the stench of death thick in the air.

He had been perched on a boulder, breathless from the battle, panicked because he did not know where she was.

She was blood-splattered, eyes bright with adrenaline, a shallow cut on her cheek and her hands shaking from the thrill of survival.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, breathless. He breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged.

He looked at her with something close to wonder. “You thought wrong.”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, her body trembling not with fear, but with need.

“I need you,” she whispered. “Now. Like this.”

There, among the bodies and broken shields, she pulled him onto the ground. They didn’t even fully undress-her leathers were shoved aside, his armour only loosened enough to free him.

He pushed into her with a growl, both of them raw and wild. Her nails raked down his back as he thrust into her, the pain mingling with pleasure, blood smearing their skin like war paint.

Each stroke was a cry of life. Of victory. Of proof.

She clenched around him, crying out, and he followed her with a growl, spilling into her with the kind of pleasure that made the world tilt.

When they collapsed, it was with hearts racing and hands still clutched tight to each other’s bodies.

"What are you thinking about, my King?" She moaned, slightly offended that he seemed to not be fully invested in the moment.

He smirked, using his right hand to pull her braid down, so that her head was forced right into his face.

"I am thinking about the first time I took you on the battle field, do you remember?"

She hummed both in pleasure of the moment, and of the fond memory. Though, his mention of memories led her to think of her own favourite memory-

It had been early in their relationship. New territory. Untouched territory.

A visiting noble from Frankia had lingered too long. Touched her wrist as he complimented her dress. Smiled with too many teeth.

Ivar had watched from across the courtyard, frozen at first, the fury boiling in his blood like molten iron.

When the man finally left, Ivar grabbed her wrist-not hard, but firm-and yanked her into the garden.

“What was that?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Letting him touch you.”

“I didn’t-”

“You smiled.”

Her jaw clenched. “You think I belong to you already?”

He shoved her against the stone wall, body pressed close but trembling.

“No. I know you do.”

He kissed her like a man unhinged-wild, brutal, messy- and he didn’t stop until she moaned into his mouth, nails scratching his scalp.

He sank to his knees again, right there in the garden path, in broad daylight.

Anyone could’ve walked by.

He didn’t care.

He fucked her with his fingers until she came on his tongue, and then looked up at her with glassy, mad eyes.

“You’re mine,” he whispered.

She believed it, even then.

Ivar lingered on the soft furs beside her, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, his body still thrumming with the intensity of the moments they’d just shared. The great hall around them had fallen silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire, the only sound that remained. His fingers brushed against her skin, still warm from their union, reverently trailing the curve of her shoulder.

She had fallen back beside him, her breath equally shallow, but her eyes were open and steady, gazing at the ceiling with a faraway look. He could feel the weight of their shared moment, the bond they’d just further sealed, and it made his heart ache in ways he hadn’t ever anticipated.

Ivar shifted, pulling her closer against his chest, his strong arms enveloping her with tenderness. He pressed a kiss to her hair, burying his face in the strands that smelled faintly of the night air and the fragrance of her skin.

“You’re mine,” he murmured softly, though this time it was a truth, not a demand. His voice was hushed, reverent, as though he feared the intensity of his feelings might somehow cause her to slip away.

She hummed against him, a content sound that warmed him from the inside. Her fingers gently traced the lines of his arm, a simple touch that spoke volumes. “Always,” she whispered back, a soft promise.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, just holding each other in the silence of their shared aftercare, the warmth of the fire mixing with the heat still lingering between them. Ivar’s hand found hers, his fingers lacing through hers as if to make sure she was still there, still his, and he was hers.

"I never want to leave your side," he admitted quietly, his thumb tracing over the back of her hand, the gesture almost shy. The vulnerable admission had once felt strange on his tongue, but with her, it always felt right. “Not now. Not ever.”

Her eyes softened as she looked at him, her lips curving upward in that knowing, teasing smile that was so uniquely hers. “I wouldn’t have you any other way,” she replied, her voice like silk.

Ivar’s heart clenched at the sincerity in her words. This, this was everything to him. He had never known love in this form before- raw, consuming, yet tender and soft. She had given herself to him not just in body, but in soul, and it was a bond that would never be broken.

His hand moved to her cheek, his touch gentle as he traced the curve of her jaw, studying her face as though he had never truly seen her before. “You’re everything,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I deserve, and yet, you’re still here.”

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she leaned into his touch, her lips pressing softly against his palm. “You deserve everything I have to give, Ivar.”

The words hung between them, powerful, heavy with unspoken promises. He kissed her then, not with the fierce passion of before, but with the softness that spoke of everything he couldn’t put into words. The kiss was slow, tender, full of everything they had shared- and everything they still would.

When they broke apart, he pulled her back against his chest, her back pressed to his front, as he wrapped his arms around her securely. He held her like that for a long while, just breathing her in, his heart at peace for the first time in a long while.

“I will love you forever,” he murmured into her ear, his voice steady, the words deep with conviction. “Even beyond this life, I will find you.”

She squeezed his hand, pressing her palm over his, and turned her head just enough to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “And I will wait for you.”

Ivar exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the weight of her words settle deep into his soul. He couldn’t imagine a life without her, and he never would. She had become his centre, the beating heart that gave him reason, the anchor in the storm that was his existence.

[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!

[All of my FanFictions Masterlist]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 20

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

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

Words: 7700

Warnings: all the feels and mild smut

Series Masterlist

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

Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas. 

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

The first thing she saw made her pause. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm okay.”

He grunted, rubbing his temple and headed there himself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed a pleased sound in response. 

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

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

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

“KARI!”

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

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

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

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

“Kari?” He mouthed in a near whisper. 

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

“You're here.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

And she responded with a second thought. 

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

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

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

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

And she was not having that. 

Not now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kari–” he whispered. 

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

“I didn't sav–”

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

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

“Ivar, no–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I trust you.” She murmured. 

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

“You're beautiful.”

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

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

“Only a little.”

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

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

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

“Ah, s-sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ivar, what–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ivar, please….”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.” She said, shyly. 

He chuckled impishly. “That good, huh?”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

“What–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

She fidgeted under that look. “What?”

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

“I don't need you to buy me things.”

“What can I do? How can I prove it?”

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

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

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

“Fucking finally.”

“Ivar…” 

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

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

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

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

“What other job?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“Please, Kjære, let me help.”

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

“You're not going in today.”

“I have too. I need the paycheck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“See something you like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmm…you look good in my shirt.” 

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

“Pictures.”

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

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

“Really?”

“Surprised?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I should be asking you that.”

“Ivar.”

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

“Hvitserk told me…”

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

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

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

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

“Why do you want to know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And your cast?”

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

“Oh, Ivar.” 

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

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

But all she wanted was him. 

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

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

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

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

Like she was his salvation. 

Tag List:

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

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

[hellisateenagewerewolf]

VIKINGS

SILVER BONES

Prologue

Summary

Iris is a Viking goddess, daughter of the powerful warrior-queen Lagertha and the god-like figure Ragnar. When Lagertha casts her out, fearing her daughter’s growing power and potential to surpass her, Iris is forced to grow up with her father and brothers in the harsh Viking world. As Iris matures, she becomes entangled in a complicated relationship with Ivar, her brother��one marked by growing tension, desire, and a dangerous pull of attraction.

This forbidden bond only escalates as both Iris and Ivar wrestle with their destinies and roles in their family’s legacy. However, the conflict between their parents reaches a breaking point when Lagertha, in a moment of deep betrayal, kills Ivar’s mother. This brutal act sparks an all-out war between Iris’s family and Ivar’s, plunging them into a world of violence, bloodshed, and fractured loyalties.

Amid the chaos, Iris must confront her dual heritage—caught between her divine lineage and the mortal, violent world she was born into. She grapples with her identity, torn between her love for Ivar and the loyalty to a family that once rejected her. The story weaves themes of forbidden love, betrayal, and the destructive nature of ambition, as both families clash in a bloody, inevitable conflict.

Settings : Viking Era

Warning: 18+

Theme song : Nothing Matters by The last dinner party

It was a dark cool night, everyone was sleeping peacefully. Except for one person; Lagertha . For what she didn’t know was that the gods were watching her but more importantly watching her womb for it was about to unleash complete and utter destruction upon the world.

Laying in bed Lagertha began to stir, she was dreaming, a terrible dream. She was drowning, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of dark blue water. Her long white gown gifted to her body through her dream was swaying gracefully against the currents. Her long beautiful hair free of braids shaped around her body as if it was a crown placed upon her head. As she kept floating what she didn’t see was a long cold hand reaching deep into the water and pulling her out harshly. The sound of the water beat against her ears and the waves shook her body.

Experiencing this odd blessing of the gods Lagertha jumped out of her sleep, gasping for air, her hand clutching her chest, tears falling down her face. Quickly realizing she jumped out of her bed grabbing her cloak and placing her shoes on. Turning around behind her she started at the empty bed behind her. Tired of seeing that she was alone with no one except for this horrible excuse for a husband, but she had no baby, which she has desperately wanted since Bjorn has grown older, she closed her eyes with grief and began her journey through the storm to the all knowing , the one that knew what she would eventually unleash into the world ; The seer.

running through the village Lagertha frantically left her foot prints in the mud. she was scared, what could have the dream meant. the harsh wind and the nonstop rain drenching and whipping her every which way. Lagertha had no clue what was happening all she knew was something was gonna happen better yet someone was gonna happen, but who ?

to busy in her thoughts she didn't notice that the seer was looking for as well. he stood in the middle of the village, hood cloaked over him and the black abyss of shadows covering his face. if she didnt know of the seer she would have thought he was the gods coming to claim her life. " what is this ? do you know what it was" Lagertha frantically pushed out. of her mouth as she quickly approached the seer.

Not saying anything he just stares down at her. The two just stood there, rain pounding down on them, the lightning drowning their ears with sound. " why won't you answer me, what does it mean ?" shouted Lagertha, she was being to get fed up. The seer just tilts his head the left, " Those who fear thy they carry " softly spoke the seer as he raised his hand up to lagertha gently placing it upon her stomach " thy will be destroyed by whom thy creates, so thy must end creations for all time, or thy will grow to create with destruction "

hearing the seers word lagertha's face began to be painted In fear. scared she slaps the seers hand off her stomach" you make no sense I can't carry another, I have tried" fed up with the seer Lagertha begins to turn and walk away but not before turning to look at the seer " I should have killed you for you tell me nothing but lies and utter nonsense for you told me yourself that I can't carry another".

--- kattegat ---

Lagertha was resting in front of the fire eating for she had just finished a long travel to Kattegat to fight with Ragnar. Bjorn was still excited to be reunited with his father so he was in the house playing with is new discovered brothers. Lagertha didn't want to see the children or Aslaug for she didn't know what she would to her right now.

standing at the entrance of their hut stood Ragnar. He was staring at Lagertha, she was beautiful with her big blue eyes and her long blonde hair. but what he loved the most was how fierce she was , no one could stop Lagertha. seeing her husband at the threshold Aslaug started to feel jealous. " Ragnar, come I want to show you something" spoke Aslaug trying to find anyway to get his attention back on her. Not caring about anything in this moment but the beautiful fierce woman that was once and still is the love of his life, Ragnar quickly left the hut but not before lying to Aslaug " Im gonna go check on Bjorn" with him quickly rushing out he never noticed that bjorn was in their bedroom playing with the children.

not scared but still nervous Ragnar slowly walked up to Lagertha and sat in front of her. not saying anything he picked up a plate of food and began eating, occasionally he looked up just to make eye contact with her. Not in the mood for his games Lagertha spoke up " don't you have a wife and children to look after" she spat while tilting her head and smirked. rolling his neck Ragnar swallowed his food while setting bowl down. " Cant I see an old friend" raising his eyebrow he dared her to speak.

Tired of his shit she stood up and began walking to her tent that was kindly set up by her men. Not willing to lose the catch Ragnar began to follow her, pulling the flap to her tent open and stepping inside as if he owned the place. Lagertha unknowing began to remove her jewelry while occasionally sipping the mead on her stand. once her jewelry was off she began taking her armor off. Being as infatuated and longing as Ragnar was he stood in the shadows watching as Lagertha began undressing.

" I'm no fool Ragnar I know you are there " stopping mid way with taking her clothes off she turn around and stares directly where he stood. guilty he walked into the light his eyes holding a glimmer in it, like they were hiding something, something that hasn't been let out in years. " what are you doing in my tent, if you seek pleasure ask your wife" not liking what he heard Ragnar scuffs in dislike while rolling his eyes " Lagertha let me ask you something, have you remarried ? " caught off guard lagertha rolled her eyes " what I have done in my life is none of your business"

" uhh but see it is because you are important to me and I know even if you don't our story is not over yet" starring in disbelief and anger she quickly turn around grabbing the cup of mead and threw it at Ragnar " you have no right to say that for you slept with another" nodding Ragnar walked closer to her closing her in so she can't escape. " I know what I have done but the seer, the gods tell me you are holding something, something that must be done, something that only we as one must complete"

hearing his words lagertha snapped she picked up anything she could find and began to beat Ragnar with it . Item after item thrown just to make him feel the pain she was feeling. dodging every item Ragnar swiftly mad his way to her capturing her in his arms, flushing her body against his. They both stood there, eyes locked, breath fanning each others face. They both knew what they wanted but both struggled to make a move for one was scorned and the other was in the wrong.

but no matter how hard they fought it, it will always be just Lagertha and Ragnar, no matter how many times she was scorned and he was wrong. their blood and their bodies will always be drawn to each other for the gods knew what they were planning and what they needed to be created, and there was only two people who could create the blood of a god .

Unknowing that it was the gods that set them up they laid together that night creating the start and end to the world.

THE NEXT MORNING

The sky was gloomy, and Ragnar was still naked but not alone. His body was embraced with lagertha’s body. Both of the exhausted and sweaty from their nightly activities, just slayed there. Eyes closed and face relaxed as there bodies finally got to feel the touch of one another. But even thought Ragnar may be peaceful, the consequences definitely weren’t. For he had to face the wrath, Aslaug.

The camp was awake and everyone was wondering where Ragnar was. Ragnar was currently standing in lagertha’s tent putting his clothes back on. As he pulled his shirt on he turned his head slightly to start at lagertha.

The woman he once loved, the woman he will always love. He stared, memorizing the curve of her body, the feeling of her skin as the caressed each other. He knew what he had done and why, yes he may love aslaug but deep down he will always cherish LAGERTHA for she is the carrier of his heart .

Coming back to reality Ragnar shook his head as he rubbed his face with both hands. Turning around he hastily pulled the door open and left hoping no one saw. As he walked away one tear slightly ran down his poker face as his heart broke even more as He knew that he would never have her again.

Later that day

The fire crackled in the hearth, the warmth of the flames contrasting sharply with the coldness that had settled in Aslaug’s heart. She sat in their shared chamber, her pregnant belly swollen with the child she carried—a son, she hoped, though at this moment, it mattered little. The flickering shadows cast by the fire danced on the stone walls, but the room felt far too small, too suffocating, for the storm that raged inside her.

Aslaug had always known the complexity of Ragnar’s heart. She had accepted that he was a man of many loves, many desires—his passion was a wild, untamed force, much like the land they ruled. But she had never expected to find herself in this position—betrayed, humiliated, and utterly broken.

The door to their chamber opened slowly, the sound of the wood creaking faintly, and Ragnar entered. He looked weary, battle-worn, but there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes—satisfaction, perhaps even smugness.

He closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment, as if sensing the tension in the air. His gaze drifted to Aslaug, but she refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she stared into the fire, her hands folded over her pregnant belly.

“Aslaug,” Ragnar said softly, taking a step forward. “I’ve returned.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied, her voice cold, cutting through the air like a knife. “It must have been a very pleasant return, Ragnar.” Ragnar’s brow furrowed. He took another step, closer now, his hand outstretched as if to touch her, to calm her. But Aslaug recoiled, a sharp hiss escaping her lips. The hurt in her eyes was clear, but it was the fury that truly showed.

“You went to her,” Aslaug said, her voice rising, betraying the shaking rage beneath. “You spent the night with Lagertha.” The words felt like venom on her tongue, each syllable dripping with betrayal. She stood up abruptly, her hands gripping her swollen belly for support as she took a step toward him.

Ragnar opened his mouth to speak, but Aslaug silenced him with a raised hand.

“Do not try to explain,” she spat. “I have no patience for your lies, Ragnar. I know what you did.”

The truth hit her like a wave. She could feel the weight of it pressing on her chest. Lagertha. The woman who had been his first love, the one he had left behind for her—Aslaug. And yet, after everything, she was still there. Still in his heart. Still in his bed.

“How could you?” Aslaug’s voice cracked, and she fought to keep the tears at bay. “I am carrying your child, Ragnar. A son who will carry your name. And you choose her. You choose the woman who has always haunted us both.”

Ragnar stepped forward, this time reaching for her arm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Aslaug,” he said, his tone softer now. “You know how I feel about you, about this family. Lagertha… she was my past. But you, Aslaug, you are my future.”Aslaug jerked away from him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt.

“My future?” she scoffed bitterly, tears threatening to spill over. “You slept with her. You spent the night with her, Ragnar. Tell me that was about the future. Tell me that was about us.”

Ragnar’s face twisted with guilt, and he lowered his gaze, his hands resting at his sides.“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he murmured. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Aslaug’s voice shook with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “Do you think I am some fool, Ragnar? Do you think I will accept that as an answer? Do you think I will allow you to walk in and out of my life, betraying me with her, like it’s nothing?”

She took a step back, her chest heaving with emotion, her pregnant belly between them like an invisible barrier.

“You say you want me to bear your child. But do you truly want me, Ragnar? Or do you want me as a possession, a way to hold onto the family you think you should have? While you play with your first love in the dark corners of our home.”

Ragnar swallowed hard, guilt and regret swirling in his chest. He had no defense. No words to fix this, not with Aslaug’s fury so raw, so painfully clear. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice rough, strained.Aslaug shook her head, her eyes flashing with something more than hurt—pride.

“Then why do you?” she whispered, the pain seeping into every syllable. “Why do you wound me with every touch, with every word? You cannot have both of us, Ragnar. Not now. Not ever again.”

There was a long, tense silence between them, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Ragnar stared at her, unable to find the words that might undo the damage he had caused.Aslaug turned away from him, her body trembling with the mix of rage, hurt, and something darker—a decision that had begun to form deep within her.

“I will bear your son,” she said coldly, her voice low. “But make no mistake, Ragnar. You will never have me again.” And with that, she turned her back on him, her hand resting against her belly as if it could shield her from the pain.

Ragnar stood there, motionless, his heart sinking with the weight of his actions. But Aslaug had already made up her mind. There would be no going back for either of them. The walls between them had already been built—high, strong, and unyielding.

And it was all his doing.

Months later

It was a cold rainy day, labor nurses were running around like chickens with their heads cut off . Each nurse was grabbing something, water, towels, sterile tools, herbs, anything they thought could help.

Everyone was freighted due to their jarl giving birth. “Aaaahhhh” yelled lagertha ,as her womb was trying to force a child out of her. A child that she was told she’ll never have. A child that will grow up to be stronger than any person ever to grace the earth. all the wet nurses finally gathered around into the room of Lagertha. placing all their equipment down the began to work. one nurse began to knot sheets on to the bed post on each side; so that Lagertha will have something to grip. the other nurse grabbed a cool cloth and began to wipe the sweat of her head.

As they were working the head nurse came in, rolling up her sleeves and pulling a stool infant pf the bed in order to help birth Lagerthas baby. " water please ", yelled the head nurse as she held her hands up to be cleaned. quickly running over one of the assistants began to quickly clean her hands.

frantic Lagertha just laid there , eyes blood shot, face covered in sweat. she was thinking why ? how did this happen to her ? why was she meant to have this baby when she couldn't have the others. she may have been confused but there was someone who new exactly what they were doing ; THE GODS .

pulling lagertha's thin white undergown up over her legs and began to measure how dilated she was. " jarl it's time for you to push , this baby wants out." hearing this the other nurses began to help adjust the jarl. Lagertha turned over on to all fours and wrapped each arm into one of the sheets knotted to the bed.

The emotion of pure pain rushed through her veins. Pushing as hard as she could lagertha screamed releasing the sound of child birth. “ jarl please you need to breathe” said the worried midwife .” Fuck off I will breathe as I please “ yelled a sweaty and frustrated lagertha.

The bed and her body soaked in sweat and child birth. Still pushing lagertha started to lose strength dropping down to rest on her elbow. Fire that's all she felt shoot through her body. From her head to her toes. " what is happening to me !!!"yelled lagertha as tears bridged her eyes. Scared to answer the midwife stayed quiet as they never seen anything like this before.

The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and the distant sound of the northern winds howling against the walls. Inside, the room was tense with the anticipation of life and death, for a child was about to be born—a child whose fate was bound to the gods themselves. upon the birthing bed, her body slick with sweat, her face contorted in pain. The iron strength she had wielded in countless battles was nowhere to be found in this moment. Instead, she was at the mercy of an ancient force—one that would either tear her apart or bring forth life into the world.

Lagertha could not focus. Not on her breath, not on the midwife’s words. All she could feel was the power, the raw, untamed force of the birth. The child inside her was not just a mortal infant—it was something more. Even in her pain, Lagertha could sense it, as if the very blood running through her veins was infused with ancient magic.

With a guttural cry, Lagertha’s body twisted, her muscles strained, and the world around her seemed to fade, leaving only the darkness and the agony. She could hear the voices of the gods in the wind, whispers of something great, something powerful. And then, the moment came.

The room was filled with the sharp, bloody scent of birth, but it was accompanied by something else—something that made the air crackle with energy. The child’s first cry was not a mere wail. It was a roar, primal and wild, like the voice of the earth itself, calling out to the heavens.

Lagertha, exhausted and trembling, opened her eyes just as the midwife placed the child in her arms. Her breath hitched as she gazed down at the infant, the glow of the fire dancing in the child’s dark, raven-black hair. The newborn’s skin, smeared with blood, seemed to shimmer faintly with an otherworldly light, a soft, ethereal glow that sent a chill down Lagertha’s spine.

The baby’s eyes, though not yet open, seemed to hold an ancient knowledge, a depth that went beyond her years. There was a fire in those eyes, a fierce light that seemed to burn from within. Lagertha’s heart skipped a beat as she realized that this child was no ordinary mortal. This was a child of destiny—a child who would walk among the gods and the warriors.

The midwife, her hands trembling as she wiped the child’s face, whispered in awe, “She is marked by the gods, Lagertha. This one will be great. The gods themselves have chosen her.”

Lagertha’s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of exhaustion and wonder. She held the child close, her breath ragged as she whispered, “Isis. Her name will be Isis.” As the fire crackled and the wind howled outside, Lagertha could feel the presence of something larger than herself—the weight of prophecy, the weight of fate. She had given birth not just to a daughter, but to a force that would shape the world. The pain, the blood, the terror—those things were nothing compared to the weight of the future.

The room seemed to darken, as though the night itself had come to claim the moment, and yet the fire blazed brightly, casting long shadows across Lagertha’s face. She looked down at her daughter, her heart filled with both awe and fear. This child was destined for greatness, for war, for the gods. And though Lagertha had borne many battles, this was the greatest of them all.

As the wind howled louder, as if in response to the birth of the child, Lagertha knew in her heart that the world would never be the same. The gods had given her a daughter—one who would grow to wield power and wrath beyond mortal understanding. And when the time came, Isis would rise like a storm, fierce and unstoppable.

The birth had been bloody. It had been painful. But it had been mystical—marked by the gods, bound by destiny.

And so, the child of the north, the daughter of Lagertha, was born.

The world had just begun to tremble.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[ceridwenofwales]

Moyra

[aissa-snapped]

The Heathen and The Christian final part

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

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

@kens0world0of0imagine0nation there you go :))

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head at his silly question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[witchezandwonderz]

My Valkyrie

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Summary: Ivar and his wife are just as beautifully toxic as one another, and their obsession for one another shows at all times.

Tagged list: : @leftoverp1zza @somebody6468 @cheesesandwichsanto @diorpar @tessakate @miksmom-blog

If you want to be added/removed from the tagged list let me know:)

Masterlist

The feast in Kattegat is lively, filled with the sounds of laughter, drunken boasts, and the clash of tankards. Ivar sits at the head of the hall, enjoying the scenery around him. More specifically, enjoying the sight of his wife who stood proudly on the other side of the hall, partaking in drinking competitions with his men.

He sat comfortably, his left hand swirling the liquid within his tankard and his right hand rested on the stone table before him. He watched his wife in awe, as he always did, studying her movements.

Ivar never thought that he would marry; he never understood his brothers’ love for women. He thought that if he ever was to be bound to a woman, it would be because of an arrangement, or against his own will.

But then he met her- his Valkyrie.

It had been a long day, and he really could not be bothered to attend the feast of an Earl that he did not remember the name of. He had only forced his men to join him in the hopes of forming an alliance which would consequently mean gaining a greater army to join him on his next venture across the seas.

As soon as Ivar entered the small hall, his eyes were transfixed on the raven haired beauty who sat next to the Earl. She saw him looking at her, and to his surprise, did not lower her head like others. No, she stayed looking at him- her eyes locking into his, and a broad smirk on her face.

Strange, Ivar thought. Women usually averted eye contact in fear that he may try and speak with them.

The Earl invited Ivar to sit with him, which Ivar would usually detest, but sitting there meant that he would be able to speak to her, and he wanted that very much.

She watched him as he walked over, her eyes never leaving his figure- she was analysing him. As Ivar sat, she sipped her drink slowly.

“Ivar, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Y/N.” The earl said quickly, gesturing to her slightly.

Ivar nodded at her, “pretty name.” He said, a boastful grin painted on his lips.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she had a chance to, her father spoke loudly.

“pretty name” He repeated, shaking his head as he spoke, "nothing pretty about this one, good fighter though.” He croaked as he hurried to shovel handfuls of meat into his mouth.

Ivar looked at him disgusted, before flicking his gaze to Y/N who rolled her eyes, and downed the remaining liquid in her cup.

“Sometimes I think you forget how well I can fight, father.” She warned, her voice serious but not raised.

The small interaction that Ivar witnessed gave him an insight of her past, and as the pair spoke more and more, it was obvious that they were extremely similar.

That night, Ivar did not leave with more men, but he did leave with her, for she was a much greater prize than a bigger army.

News of Ivar's new marriage had spread like wild fire. Although the majority of Kattegat were loyal to Ivar, his irrational, arrogant ways terrified them all the same. Some, if not most were horrified to learn that his new wife was equally as brutal, equally as arrogant and unbelievably irrational.

All Y/N saw was Ivar; she breathed him- every decision she made from the moment she laid her eyes on him had his best interests at heart. She was under his spell, and she never wanted to wake up. He was everything that she had ever dreamt of, and no one was going to take that from her.

The first time that Y/N lost her temper in front of him was the first time that Ivar saw her for what he believed she truly was- a valkyrie, his valkyrie. He could not remember what aggravated her, or how the situation even began, but he could never forget the rage that burned within her. Her eyes switched, and he could have sworn they changed colour as they squinted from anger, his eyes in turn brightening, laughing in delight as he watched her violently attack a random person. Her father was correct, she was a good fighter, an amazing fighter.

The fondness of this memory brought a smile to his face, as he focused once more on her beauty from across the hall. She was not just a vision of chaos and violence, but also of beauty and sweetness. Her smile lit up the entire room, her aura was so powerful that she had the ability to make a whole room feel just as deeply as she did.

She laughed loudly, her howling echoing throughout the walls as she desperately clutched her stomach. She had beat yet another man in a speed drinking competition, and was surrounded by her best shield maiden friends. Her best friend leant over and whispered something in her ear, causing Y/N to spit out the liquid in her mouth and erupt into a fit of laughter once again. Ivar, infected by her, laughed along with her, shaking his head as he did so.

"Magnificent." He said to himself, lifting his cup to his lips once more, his eyes still locked onto her.

"Ivar." An unfamiliar, high pitched voice spoke softly from beside him. Instead of looking away, he continued to stare across the hall and muttered a blunt 'hm'.

The voice did not waver, nor did it falter in the face of his clear disregard for the interaction. "You are not as I imagined."

Ivar finally turned his head slowly, his eyes settling on the woman who had dared to interrupt his admiration and thoughts.

She was small and quite young, with golden hair and a hesitant smile. Though her posture was lazy, there was a flicker of boldness in her gaze, and confidence laced within her expression.

He did not respond, instead, nodding at her expectantly.

She took it as an invitation to continue.

“You are, of course, a great warrior” she said shyly, her lips curving nervously. She continued, now fixing her sights onto the ground beneath her, “but you are also… striking.”

Ivar’s lips curled ever so slightly, but not for the reason she likely hoped. He was not flattered, and he did not care for her opinions. He was, however, excited to see how this situation would play out.

He noticed the way the men around him shifted, the tension that seeped into the air was so thick that he was surprised they did not begin to choke.

More importantly, he noticed the way that his wife had gone completely silent.

His amusement deepened.

The girl mistook it for encouragement. Silly girl.

“Your strength is unbelievable,” she added, stepping closer, the once nervousness within her voice now overtaken by arrogance, “and your brilliant mind is even more so."

Ivar exhaled sharply, something between a chuckle and a sigh. He tapped his fingers against the table, his eyes flickering from her, to all of those that surrounded her. Though he tried not to look at his wife, he could not help it. His gaze darted around the hall until it finally landed on her, as she stood with a firm grip on her sword- so elegant, so beautiful. He winced at the sight of her; Her dress, a deep emerald green, clung to her form like ivy, woven with black embroidery in the shapes of twisting vines and Norse runes of power and protection. Long, flowing sleeves draped from her arms, split at the elbows, giving glimpses of the dark leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists, engraved with ancient symbols of war and bloodlust. Her cloak, made of thick black fur, sat heavy on her shoulders, fastened with a silver brooch shaped like a Valkyrie’s wing.

She was the vision of a queen, the vision of a goddess. Regardless of how elegant she dressed, or how well she carried herself, the array of weapons that she hid beneath her cloak spoke a thousand words.

Ivar tried to predict her next move, but he could not. One of the aspects he loved most about her was how unpredictable she was, and how she had the ability to look blankly at someone whom she wanted to kill. He did not know what she was thinking or planning, bu he did know her gaze.

Gods, her dark, unrelenting gaze.

Ivar felt a thrill rush down his spine, a wicked kind of anticipation sparking in his blood.

His wife had always been possessive- of his time, of his attention, of him. And though he enjoyed toying with her, encouraging her, there were moments- glorious, fantastic moments- when he preferred to sit back and allow her to unleash herself.

The girl, oblivious to the danger she had summoned, smiled shyly. “I mean no disrespect to your wife, of course,” she added hastily. “But surely, she must know that she is lucky to have you.”

Ivar hummed, glancing toward his wife once more, curious to see if she would make her move-

But she only tilted her head, her eyes squinting as she did so, and then took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth, in an attempt to control her anger and wait just a moment longer.

The girl took his silence as permission, and in turn, stepped closer towards him, “perhaps she does not understand you as I would,” she murmured, “perhaps she does not—”

The loud noise of a dagger suddenly landing in the wall in front of the girl caught everyone by surprise, though, they did not need to guess who threw it.

The girl gasped, raising her hand to her ear and gently wiping it, only to realise that the dagger had cut it as it flew past. Y/N had immaculate aim.

Ivar did not flinch.

He merely grinned.

Because he knew what was about to happen.

The sound of boots against the wooden floor followed- the footsteps calm and paced. If anything, they approached slowly- almost like a lion stalking it's prey.

The girl turned just in time to see her.

Her expression was unreadable, eerily calm, but her eyes… they burned with something ancient, something feral.

"What were you thinking?" Y/N asked, genuinely. Though, she never gave her a chance to reply before giggling, "I mean, did you really think that flirting with my husband would work out in your favour?"

The girl swallowed. “I-”

She never managed to finish her sentence, because Y/N moved.

Her hands gripped the girls neck so tightly that she let out a squeak. Y/N let go of her, the sudden movement jolting her to the floor. Immediately, she bent down and picked her back up, but not with her neck. This time, she tangled her hands within the girls hair, and dragged her so that she was right in front of Ivar, then forced her onto her knees.

The girls chest panted up and down as she frantically looked between the married couple.

Ivar smirked, wondering what was going to happen next. He looked up at his wife who now stood next to him. Y/N bent down and used her finger to grab Ivar's chin, her lips crashed against his with brutal force, her free hand grasping at the back of his neck as if she was trying to pull him inside of her. Ivar groaned into her mouth, his own hands finally moving, one grasping at her waist, the other tangling into her hair, returning her passion with equal fire.

Their bodies pressed together, their hunger evident, their need undeniable. The entire hall watched—shocked, captivated, horrified, amused, impressed even.

Their lack of care for people's opinions was admirable.

Y/N let go suddenly, causing Ivar to falter slightly and settle back into his seat. He smiled, his lips now red and puffy from the kiss. Raising his hand to touch his mouth, he watched as his wife walked around the table and back towards the woman who cowered on the floor.

"You should never go near what does not belong to you." She said, calmly. Her movements contradicted her tone, as she leapt towards her.

So fast, so sudden, that the girl barely had time to react before a blade was buried deep into her stomach.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her hands flying to the dagger now protruding from her flesh, her fingers quickly becoming drenched in crimson liquid.

The hall had gone deathly silent.

No one dared to intervene. They never did.

She twisted the blade, slow and deliberate, tilting her head in curiosity as she watched the girl choke on a scream.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the girl’s ear. “You are lucky I let you speak for as long as you did,” she murmured, voice a deadly whisper.

And then, with a vicious yank, she ripped the dagger free.

The girl took one final desperate gasp for air, before stammering and falling forwards. Blood pooled beneath her, warm and thick, soaking into the wooden floor.

For a long moment, his wife simply stood there, watching the life drain from her. Then, without so much as a glance at the horrified onlookers, she turned to Ivar.

Her gaze met his.

And Ivar- grinning like a man possessed- raised his cup in salute.

“My wife” he drawled, voice dripping with satisfaction

His wife smirked, carelessly wiping the blood from her blade on her beautiful dress, “She was a fool.”

“Yes,” Ivar agreed, tipping his head toward her. “But she gave me a gift.”

She snapped her head towards him and arched a brow. “Oh?”

Ivar leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “She reminded me,” he murmured, his voice laced with hunger, “just how much you belong to me.”

His wife let out a breath of laughter, nervous laughter. Her cheeks burned red as she blushed, and used her index finger to twirl a strand of her hair. Some people thought it amusing that she would turn into a giggling, anxious girl from someone speaking in such a dark and toxic way.

But they were toxic and dark, and that was what made them, them.

They were not perfect, they were strange, they were eccentric, they were violent, they were possessive. But they were happy, in love, and shared a bond like no other.

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

MASTERLIST

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

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This pained her heart gravely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A raven...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

Taglist: @g-cf2020 @ugh-whytho

If you'd like to be add to the Taglist, please don't hesitate to let me know.

If you liked it, please leave a heart ♥️ a comment and reblog!

[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

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Ravenblade - Part 4 // Ivar Lothbrok x OC

Summary: A tremendous wounded Liv is being cared for after the battle by a surprisingly soft Ivar, so she needs to get the advice of her big brother

Warnings: Language, war wounds, blood

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @menari

A/N: Whoooo here I am back from my little Tumblr break!

The following day Liv is awake early. She keeps thinking about the sex with Ivar, and a smile creeps onto her face.

"Well? Did someone have a good night?" asks Sven, who has just come to stand beside her.

"Didn't I tell you it was none of your business?" asks Liv, annoyed, as she laces up her bracers.

"The cripple seems to be in high spirits," he says then and Liv rolls her eyes. She knocks Sven against the shoulder.

"Don't challenge me, Sven!" she grumbles, but Sven continues.

"What? It's like that. And your face is always graced with a smile too. Was he really that good?" he says, and Liv has had enough.

She gets up and stands in front of her friend. Behind her, the sons of Ragnar are just coming out of their tent.

"You asked for it," she hisses then and pushes herself off a tree trunk so she can reach him better. Sven, however, avoids her and grabs her around the waist. He pushes her back, but she manages to stay on her feet. Anger, however, spreads through Liv. She attacks again and has now taken her dagger. She lets it slide through her fingers, and Ivar's eyes grow big when he sees her fighting like this.

Liv does a pike roll, kicks Sven in the knee so that he sinks in and then wraps her legs around his upper body. With a swing, she drops backwards and pulls him with her. Sven lands on the floor and Liv is quickly back on her feet.

But Sven has also had the same training as her, so he too is quickly back on his feet. She tackles him a few times before he grabs her arm and pulls her over him. Liv deftly rolls off and lands a matching punch to the area of his stomach.

The air is forced out of Sven, and he becomes careless so Liv can hold her dagger to his neck.

"Don't you ever do that again! Do you hear me?" she hisses so that only he can hear. A real crowd has slowly formed around them.

Sven exhales shallowly and then nods. Liv slowly takes the dagger from his neck and turns away. But then she twists around again and gives him a small cut on the cheek.

"Don't forget who's in charge here," she hisses, stomping angrily.

As she passes her brother and his brothers, she looks briefly into Ivar's eyes but immediately moves on. She angrily throws her dagger into the nearest tree when she is out of earshot.

"Fucking hell!" she yells, ruffling her hair.

She hates having to discipline her people like this. Sven is ahead of everyone. They are friends, but even he has his limits, which he should not cross. But maybe she was overreacting a little. Could it be that Ivar is to blame? That she becomes so sensitive? Behind her, Liv then hears hooves stomping. Of course, it's him. Slightly amused, he sits in his chariot and looks at Liv.

"Are you okay?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asks sarcastically. Furious, she stomps towards the tree and pulls out her dagger. "What are you doing here?" she asks, turning to Ivar.

"The others want to go. We're just waiting for you. Your people won't come without you." Liv takes a deep breath before joining Ivar on the chariot. He slaps the reins, and they drive off.

"What happened there before?" he asks suddenly, and Liv is surprised that he even cares.

"What do you do with people who cross their line?" she asks back, and Ivar thinks momentarily. Then he shrugs.

"Then I guess he's lucky you like him."

Again and again, Liv thrust her sword into Saxon soldiers. She has been with the first troop, with Björn, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd and is now treading through the mud. Her face was splattered with blood after only a few minutes, and her thirst for blood had awakened.

Even her long blond hair, tied in several braids into a high ponytail, has already turned slightly red. She ducks, strikes and draws her sword through the bodies. Despite the effort, Liv cannot suppress a smile. This is what she was made for. To fight.

Again and again, she raises her shield to ward off blows and slashes. She doesn't feel the minor cuts inflicted on her because of the adrenaline. Whether it's minutes or hours, Liv can't tell, but it wouldn't make any difference either. And then another Saxon runs towards her.

He manages to take the shield from her, but she is no less dangerous without it. She draws her sword across the soldier's stomach, then stabs him in the chest. Satisfied, Liv watches him go down.

She stands in the middle of the battlefield. Her bloodied face looks around. Liv's chest rises and falls rapidly, as does her breathing. Then she sees the prince. Aethelwulf. Liv has met him several times, as his father has used her services.

He looks at her in surprise, and she can only grin. But then he raises his bow and shoots an arrow at her. It hits her shoulder. Enraged, Liv breaks off the shaft and tries to raise her arm, making it complicated.

At that moment, Aethelwulf raises his bow again, and the second arrow lands in Liv's stomach. She is too slow to deflect it somehow. She looks down at herself in disbelief, and at that moment, the rest of the large army comes running behind Aethelwulf, forcing him to retreat.

Liv, however, can barely hold on and then goes down. Unable to say anything, she lies there in pain. She has carelessly dropped her sword on the ground.

Satisfied, Ivar sits on his chariot and watches his army slaughter the Saxons. Screams and groans and the smell of blood fill the air. He feels superior to everyone now as if Odin is tapping him directly on the shoulder and rejoicing. He is so full of pride.

Defeated, the Saxon army retreats and flees from the heathen army. Slowly Ivar leads his chariot across the battlefield as his brothers meet him. They all laugh proudly and congratulate the youngest on his victory, for it was his doing.

Then he notices the slightly worried look on Björn's as he looks around. It doesn't take long for Ivar to realise what it's all about. He looks around too, but he can't see Liv anywhere either. Then Björn sees Sven. He stomps towards him.

"Where is she?!" he shouts, and Ivar didn't think Björn cared so much about his sister. "Where is she?!" he shouts again, and the other brothers look around too.

"I don't know!" Sven returns, and Björn grabs him by the collar.

And then Ivar sees her. She is lying in the dirt, surrounded by Saxon corpses.

"There!" shouts Ivar, and slight panic can be heard in his voice.

He throws himself from his chariot and crawls towards her. Björn, of course, is faster.

"Liv!" says Björn once more and throws himself on his knees beside her. Still panting and barely catching her breath, Liv looks at her big brother. Relieved that they have finally found her.

"Björn?" she stutters tonelessly.

"Shhh ... Shhh ... It's going to be all right. We'll get you a healer," he says, looking at the arrow still lodged in his sister's stomach.

"Get a healer now!" Björn shouts angrily, and Liv grits her teeth.

Before Björn realises what she is about to do, Liv unceremoniously breaks off the arrow shaft. A small cry of pain passes her lips. Ivar has seen this too. She is so brave and tough, he thinks to himself, yet the sight of Liv in the dirt with an arrow in her stomach shocks him. He can't lose her. Not now.

"Liv," he breathes when he's almost at her. "No!" he mutters to himself.

When he is finally beside her, he sees that her whole body is covered in dirt and blood. He can't tell which is hers, but it doesn't look good.

"Liv..." he says again, and Liv looks him in the eye before letting out a pained moan.

"Ivar," she breathes then and reaches out for him.

Her head rests on Bjorn's legs, but Ivar also sits beside her. He takes her hand in his and caresses it gently. Then he kisses her hand and presses it against him.

"It's okay, Liv. It's going to be okay," he whispers and touches her cheek.

Björn looks back and forth between Ivar and Liv and then at Ubbe, who stands beside him, shrugging his shoulders. They have never seen their brother like this before.

"It's okay," she stammers now. "I'm not scared."

"You're not going to die, do you hear me?" hisses Ivar, continuing to stroke her hand.

Sven has reached her now, too and rummages in his bag. He takes out a small vial and then kneels to her.

"What is this?" asks Björn immediately, and Sven takes off the cork.

"It will help her," he says, looking at Liv, who nods. He dribbles a little of the liquid into her mouth, and she swallows it. Then her eyelids grow heavy, and her body limp.

"What have you done to her?" exclaims Ivar immediately.

"She's just sleeping. This is for the pain. It will help her," he defends himself, and Hvitserk puts a hand on Ivar's shoulder.

The wound won't stop bleeding. New drops of blood keep forming in it. But Ivar patiently cleans Liv's wounds. It's not only the wound on her stomach that the healer has stitched up well, but she also has several cuts and bruises on her arms.

"You could have died today," he grumbles after a while.

"And yet I'm still here," Liv says, a little more cheerful again. "I thank the gods for that. But I can take care of myself, Ivar."

"Doesn't look much like it to me," he says, showing her the blood-soaked piece of cloth he's using to clean her wounds. "What if you're not so lucky next time?" he asks.

"Then I will die honourably in battle," she only says. Ivar doesn't want to hear something like that. He looks her in the eye momentarily, and Liv returns the look. He puts the scrap of cloth away and takes her hands in his.

"This must not happen, do you hear? Liv... I... I love you, and I want you by my side," he says then, and Liv's eyes widen in surprise. No one has ever said those words to her before.

"What? You don't even know me," she says, turning away from him.

She knows that love is a weakness. And she doesn't want weaknesses.

"It's not just you who can observe Liv. Even the first time I saw you, I knew you were special. And everything I've seen is enough for me to tell you that… I love you."

Ivar looks closely at Liv, and the otherwise strong warrior that he is suddenly seems vulnerable.

"I want you to stay by my side. I want you to be mine."

Liv looks at him. Light tears well up in her eyes as she averts her gaze.

"I can't..." she breathes and stands up. "I have commitments, Ivar. I can't stay with you. As soon as Ecbert is dead, I have to go." She takes another step towards him.

"Please, Liv. You felt it too, I'm sure of it. We belong together." Liv wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Please, Ivar... Don't make this harder than it already is," she pleads with him shaky.

"I just don't want you to lie to yourself. Your place is by my side!"

He takes her hand in his and caresses it. Again she looks into his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. She would like to say yes to him, but Liv can't. She has the Ravenblade, and she can't let it down. Hesitantly, she pulls her hand away from Ivar.

"I can't," she breathes, "I'm so sorry." With those words, she grabs her tunic, pulls it over her head, walks out, and leaves the tent.

When she gets outside, the sun blinds her. Still struggling with tears, Liv is even more confused because this usually never happens to her. She has been trained to be tough and keep her emotions to a minimum, but Ivar brings them all out.

"Liv!" she then hears someone call out. She turns and sees Björn coming towards her. "How are you?" he asks immediately, but as she stands before him, he notices that Liv is struggling with something, so he hugs her.

Liv lets it happen and presses herself against her brother. It is her first time in years to hold her brother in her arms again. And Liv has to admit, it feels good.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, and Liv sniffles briefly before running her sleeve over her eyes.

"Nothing," she then says quickly.

"Hey, you can talk to me," he says, looking her in the eye.

It's eerie that when Liv looks at Björn, her own eyes look back. Then his gaze wanders to the tent from which Liv has come.

"Is it Ivar? What has he done?" Björn then asks quickly.

"He hasn't done anything," his sister assures him.

"He seems very fond of you, Liv."

"I know, that's the problem. I can't stay with him. I...". Her voice breaks off.

"But you like him?" Liv lowers her eyes and then nods slightly.

"I can't, Bjorn. Love is a weakness that could endanger me and my people."

Björn considers for a moment. "In the end, you must know what you want, Liv. I know the Ravenblade have a pact, but if it makes you unhappy..."

"You don't understand. I'm the fucking leader. I can't just turn my back on them because I fell in love. It doesn't work like that."

Björn notices that his sister is visibly struggling with herself. She is still so young and has committed herself for life. She should be happy, even if that means wanting to be with his psychopathic brother. It shouldn't be like this.

"You know what? Just forget about it! It doesn't change anything anyway," she says. Then she reaches out and puts her hand on his arm. "Thank you, Björn," she now says softly, and to experience such an action from his sister, he would not have thought possible.

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

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

Summary: Aaline and Ivar are finally reunited.

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

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

Ch. 35

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

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

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

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

~ “Mercy” by OneRepublic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mads-weasley]

Summary: The daughter of Torstein, the loyal friend and warrior of Ragnar Lothbrok, meets Hvitserk Ragnarsson and sets a course for both of their lives that neither would ever see coming. Will it lead to ruin or salvation?

You'll have to read and find out :)

A/N: The following is a the story of Eira and Hvitserk through seasons 5b-6b. At first, there will be chapters of the main story, but as time goes on, there will be oneshots/blurbs/ect. They will be arranged chronologically on this masterlist, but they will not always be posted chronologically.

Updates on Sundays at midnight, EST!

Season 5b:

Shadows of the Gods

Prove It

Bound to Madness

Brotherly Love

Hidden Connections

The Path We Walk

The Offer

A Gentle Warrior

Cracks of Doubt

Tug of War

Breaking Point

Through the Haze

Fevered Truths

Of Gods and Choices

Simple Curiosities

Thoughts and Memories

The Cloak

Little Fox

A Moonlit Moment

In Good Hands

What Comes After

The Warmth of a Touch

Wild Child

Fire and Ice

Can't or Won't?

Into Darkness

The Cost (coming 5/18)

No Going Back (coming 5/25)

Into the Woods (coming 6/1)

Another Life (coming 6/8)

Be Alright (coming 6/15)

The Space Between (coming 6/22)

Return to Reality (coming 6/29)

The Buddha (coming 7/6)

Most Terrible Thing (coming 7/13)

The Decision (coming 7/20)

A Broken Promise (coming 7/27)

Heart in Motion (coming 8/3)

Goodbye for Now (coming 8/10)

Ringerike (coming 8/17)

If I finish writing the story before these are set to publish, I'll publish one every few days!

More are on the way!

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU) New Chapter

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.

Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!

Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst

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 - 3828 words

This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)

Shout Outs - They know ❤️

This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)

It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!

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

Masterpost

Chapter 11

The early days of Ivar and Liet.

Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.

She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.

Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.

She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.

The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.

———————-

Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.

———————

Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.

—————

She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.

She knows any peace is temporary.

The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.

She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.

“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”

Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.

In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.

“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”

She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.

“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.

“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.

Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.

“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”

Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”

Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.

She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”

She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.

“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.

As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.

As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.

She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.

She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.

—————

Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.

Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.

Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.

He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.

Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.

She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.

She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.

She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.

She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.

He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.

Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.

After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.

She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.

The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.

Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.

He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.

“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.

“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.

When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.

“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”

Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.

She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.

“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”

“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”

“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”

“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”

“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.

“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.

“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.

“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.

He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.

When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.

——————————————-

Present day

Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”

Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.

Her whole life is back.

Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.

“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”

Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.

She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”

She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.

“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”

“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”

Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”

As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”

Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.

Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.

She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.

“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.

She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.

“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.

A path to happiness.

————-

She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.

Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.

She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.

The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?

Back to the man who did this to her?

“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”

Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.

“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”

“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.

—————————

She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.

Chapter 12