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vixstarria · 7 months ago

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Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 5 - Warnings and weddings

Chapter summary: unexpected visitors bring ill tidings and vampire family drama. Also a wedding?! And alright, alright, we're on chapter 5, have a smidgen of smut as well.

Chapter word count: approx. 5,000

Chapter CW: Sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll reckless waltzing, poor babysitting practices, death mention (not related to babysitting)

Previous chapter | Series masterlist | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut

Rating: Explicit

Asmodea regarded the toddler with caution, the way one might an unpredictable wild animal that wandered, by chance, into a human dwelling, and began creating a chaotic disturbance with its mere presence - the feeling was akin to walking into a kitchen to find a raccoon on the counter.

After some screaming (done by the child), a wooden prop dagger was surrendered to it. The toddler alternated using it as a rattle and a chew toy. Were kids this young supposed to have teeth..? Asmodea wasn’t sure. Then again, she wasn’t great at determining children’s ages. It was somewhere past the ‘potato’ stage, but hadn’t yet reached the ‘persistent yet incoherent chattering’ phase of its development.

Something new must have caught the little girl’s interest, as she dropped the fake knife and began crawling up the sitting room’s wall.

When did they begin doing that? Perhaps at around a year of age..?

Her father, Ivar, had clearly witnessed the stunt before and was unfazed by it.

Astarion, on the other hand, was very much fazed, and regarded the girl with apprehension.

“I can’t sense her,” he remarked, furrowing his brows. “My eyes tell me she’s there, but everything else is telling me my eyes are lying... It’s unnatural!”

“You’re one to speak,” Ivar chuckled at Astarion’s words. “But yes… You get used to it.”

“In all honesty, I’d rather not,” grumbled Astarion.

Ivar had been one of the very last victims delivered to Cazador. Not one of Astarion’s catches - he had actually been mugged, stabbed and left to die in the streets of the city, only to be hauled back to the mansion by Dalyria. For ‘healing’, she told him. A mere few days later, he found himself a free vampire. His wife accepted the unwitting detour as a reasonable explanation for his returning home late. She even joined him in his exodus to the Underdark with the other spawn.

Being among the minority of the spawn that still had full control of their wits on regaining their freedom, and indeed one of those who had tried to help shepherd the more crazed spawn, Ivar quickly secured a spot at the top of the hierarchy in Leon’s coven. He had met with Astarion before leaving, and stayed in sporadic correspondence with him.

To see him hastily fleeing north like some kind of refugee was a surprise. ‘Everything’s going to shit in the Underdark’ was his brief explanation.

Six covens had formed, each run by one of Cazador’s immediate spawn. ‘The Seven’, they were called, albeit Astarion, the seventh, had so far refused to take part. A Council was established, formally, but it did little but serve as a means for the ‘Seven’ to spy on and attempt to manipulate one another.

As for the common, lesser spawn…

Between attacks by the druergar, drow, illithids (as well as anyone else who did not fancy having vampires for neighbours), the food shortages, and the infighting between and within the covens themselves, the Underdark had turned out to be a ruthless dog eat dog world, not the sunless sanctuary they had first envisioned.

Thousands of the lesser spawn had died, Ivar confirmed. Most had already gone incurably mad from the years of starvation and isolation by the time they were freed, and were culled immediately.

The rest were constantly at each other’s throats in a struggle for resources.

Leon’s coven, said Ivar, had tried to establish trade relations with druergar, kept herds of deep rothe for blood supply, and otherwise made attempts to obtain blood without resorting to outright murder. Unfortunately their efforts were largely in vain, as some of the other covens had opted to simply keeping slaves to be used as blood bags. At the end of the day, as far as any mortal denizens of the Underdark were concerned, a vampire was simply a vampire, and no questions were asked about their allegiance or philosophy on blood procurement. Weapons came out on sight of any vampire, most of the time.

Ivar said that more and more vampires had begun fleeing the Underdark, slipping back into onto the surface. Soon they would flood the cities. Baldur’s Gate was the closest port city to the main Underdark vampire settlements, and it was likely that most would end up in the city, at least to pass through, like him. His own plan was to board a ship to Neverwinter with his daughter, and then head further north from there. Someplace with long nights, far from Baldur’s Gate and his wretched extended undead ‘family’.

“And the girl’s mother..?” asked Astarion.

“Ingrid died in childbirth,” answered Ivar. Astarion and Asmodea murmured words of condolences. “Accidents are prone to happen, you know,” he continued, giving Asmodea a look that made her shift uncomfortably. “Especially with one who gorges on this much blood. Look at all this!” he turned to Astarion, pointing at the tankard of heated boar blood he had been provided. “A luxury! And to you it’s nothing!”

“Was Ingrid human?” Astarion ignored Ivar’s outburst.

“Aye,” answered Ivar. “Most dhampirs’ mothers are.”

“There are others?” Astarion asked, surprised.

“Some, and I know a few women were heavy with child when I left.”

“Well…” said Astarion, somewhat taken aback. “Perhaps in another twenty years a generation of dhampir will solve the vampire overpopulation issue,” he offered. “I don’t know who will take care of the dhampir problem. Perhaps gur vampires?” His attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears.

“How do the vampires feel about them?” asked Asmodea.

“The dhampir tots are protected, at least in Leon’s coven,” said Ivar. “I reckon we’re all still amazed any of us can create new life… But their staying in the settlement is discouraged. I only waited until little Helmi was old enough to travel. The Underdark is no place for a child...”

A silence hung in the air briefly.

“But speaking of Leon…” Ivar said, suddenly remembering something. “Before I forget, I’ve a letter from him for you.”

He got up and left the room, leaving his hosts with his daughter.

They silently beheld the dhampir toddler on the ceiling for some moments, before meeting each other’s eyes.

“Do not tell me you want one,” Astarion pointed a cautionary finger at Asmodea.

“No thanks,” she curled her lip, before looking up at the child again. “But can you go get that thing off the ceiling? Or shall I go fetch a broom?”

“Why bother?” said Astarion, stretching his legs. “It seems perfectly happy up there.”

“What if it falls and cracks its head open?” Asmodea said with a frown, crossing her arms. “Your associate wouldn’t be very impressed if his daughter died the moment she was in our care.”

They both gasped in unison and made for the centre of the room - Astarion via the ceiling - as the little girl suddenly got on her feet and wobbled, upside down, towards the chandelier. Astarion got to her before she could damage herself or the candlewheel.

“I still can’t sense her,” he muttered, having come down onto the floor. “It’s uncanny… And gods, is this how cold I feel too?!” He regarded the toddler thoughtfully.

“Aww, she likes you,” Asmodea cooed, tilting her head, as the little girl tried to reach up to grab a handful of Astarion’s hair. He bared his fangs and hissed at her, only to have her chortle and hiss back at him, baring her own little fangs.

“Right, your father’s a vampire, why did I think that would work on you...” Astarion murmured, setting the toddler down.

Asmodea excused herself and returned to the theatre shortly after Ivar returned with Leon’s letter, leaving Astarion alone with Ivar and Helmi.

“So you were truly unable to enter on your own?” Astarion asked. “Interesting. It is a public space.”

“Let me guess,” said Ivar. “Living quarters stretching all across the top floor?”

“And most of the basement,” Astarion nodded, with a hint of a smile.

“Clever,” admitted Ivar. “Will spare you any surprises from the others. But they will show up in Baldur’s Gate sooner or later.”

Astarion only waved his hand dismissively.

“You could take your place on the Council anytime, you know,” Ivar continued. “You killed Cazador. They will always hold a seat for you.”

“Not interested,” murmured Astarion. “And for hells’ sake, why do you even care?! You’re headed north yourself.”

“From what I know, you’re not a bad man, Astarion,” said Ivar. “And that’s more than I can say for many of the others. ‘Not bad’ is far and few. Leon is not a bad man either, and he thinks you can be reasoned with. Think of all you could do for your lesser brothers and sisters.”

“Please…” scoffed Astarion. “Even if I cared about that. I am doing more for vampires here than I ever could beneath the ground. Why, ask anyone who’s attended the theatre. They’ll say: ‘Sure, I’ve met a vampire - a dashing gent dressed in feathers and lace, he had me pissing myself laughing at his salacious jokes - I love vampires!’.” He smirked. “I’m a curiosity, not a threat. And I would very much like to keep it that way.”

“You’re an aberration,” Ivar said, darkly. “Not even hiding you’re a vampire. All the blood you want delivered to your door. They will come, and they will be envious and spiteful. This can’t last forever.”

Astarion did not say anything to that, and taking his silence to be encouragement, Ivan continued.

“The Council will ensure protection is extended to any mortal concubine you wish to keep - take the woman with you. All the better if you have your own blood source.”

Astarion wrinkled his nose in distaste at the implication.

“The answer is still no,” he scowled. “And she’s no concubine.” He took a sip of his wine, before adding with a touch of self-satisfaction: “Oddie and I are married.”

Sometime in the past five years

To say the wedding was rushed would have been a massive understatement.

Asmodea’s dress consisted of a show corset, hastily sewn together with a mass of organza, tulle and scraps of silk, all dyed a deep blood red. The skirt was an enormous, puffy thing that bounced and swayed with every step. It was farcical, ostentatious, garish and undeniably Asmodea. The seamstress, who had been cajoled into abandoning all other requests until this project was complete, could not have been prouder of her work, once she was finally convinced that this was indeed what her client wanted.

Astarion was the one to wear white, opting for a tasteful suit with silver embroidery.

The venue was an inn that was still partially under reconstruction, which hadn’t otherwise been open to the public yet.

The entertainment was provided by their friends and regular acts that appeared at their tavern. They took turns between performing and carousing with the rest of the guests.

The catering, thank the gods, was taken over and arranged by Wyll’s people.

The day began with a rush of people and last minute deliveries and arrangements. Asmodea was trying to direct it all before allowing herself to be whisked away to the wedding venue, where she would finish her preparations.

“This was left outside,” someone handed her a hamper filled with what appeared to be an assortment of edible treats, teas, little packages and a few jars and bottles. “Must be a gift for you, don’t know why they didn’t deliver it properly.”

Asmodea frowned at the hamper. What she first took to be woven willow strands appeared to actually be interwoven roots, and the basket itself seemed to be a peculiarly shaped plant, with leaves sprouting at the top. She wondered if it could be planted or placed into water.

Her eyes grew wider and wider as she regarded the contents of the plant basket.

“What is it, my love?” Astarion approached her.

Asmodea silently handed him a piece of paperbark engraved with sylvan words of felicitations, as she picked up a bottle and swirled it to observe the contents. The liquid inside appeared thicker than regular wine. And did it shimmer..?

Astarion’s own eyebrows had already shot up at the sight of the contents of the basket, by the time she handed him the bottle.

“My espruar is shoddy… Pray tell, what does this label say?”

“‘For the vampling’,” Astarion translated. “Can it… can it do that?! Slip between our plane and the feywild..?”

“I guess so,” Asmodea said with disbelief. She reached for one of the jars and opened it, only to gasp and close it back up. She let out a giggle and handed it to Astarion. “Tell me that is what I think it is.”

Astarion opened the jar and observed the contents.

“That, my dear, is indeed enough feydust to obliterate the mind of a dragon.” He looked at the other items in the basket. “That appears to be halfling weed - nothing special, but can’t go wrong with it either. That,” he continued, peeking into another jar, “is definitely dream flake. Not something I would risk, given my nightmares.”

Asmodea barely suppressed her incredulous laughter as he went on.

“That’s patch.” Astarion met her inquisitive look - clearly that was not something she was familiar with. “It will have you communicating with plants, not that they have anything interesting to say.” He continued to dig through the basket. “Sharpsugar?! That’s even more expensive than the feydust. And that’s…” Astarion suddenly broke off into elaborate elven cursing, dropping the item he had picked up back into the basket. Asmodea picked up the satchel that had upset him so much, and guffawed.

“Aww, they even packed your favourite!” she called out after him, as he retreated back upstairs, indignant. “Catnip!”

Jaheira, stately in an emerald green gown, sipped tea, watching one of Asmodea’s friends - Sarana, an improbable githyanki raised by halflings - fuss over her hair and makeup, applying finishing touches to the bride’s appearance.

“Will anyone be walking you down the aisle?” asked Jaheira.

“I will be walking myself, thank you very much,” Asmodea answered, reaching up to adjust her hair. Sarana silently smacked her hands away from her locs, which had been arranged into a complex crown, and continued adding some delicate touchups to her cheekbones with a brush.

“I was thinking of having Wyll do it, for the sheer grandiosity of it, but he can’t do that and conduct the ceremony.”

“Has Halsin offered?” asked Jaheira.

“Halsin?!” Asmodea laughed. “Having an ex-lover hand me over to my husband-to-be, who is incidentally also his ex-lover. I can’t even tell what all that symbolism would imply, but I think I’ll avoid it, even if he does volunteer.”

“Astarion, are you decent?” he heard Shadowheart’s voice from behind the door.

“What kind of a trick question is that?!” he scoffed, as the door opened to admit the cleric. She looked stunning in a flowing dusky lavender dress.

She took one look at him before recoiling in mock horror.

“Oh! Oh no… No, this won’t do at all.”

“What are you talking about?” Astarion asked, annoyed. “I don’t need a mirror to know I’m immaculate.”

“Exactly,” Shadowheart agreed. “You’re so perfect - it’s painful to look at. She will absolutely hate it. Here, allow me…”

She reached up to loosen his collar and unbutton the top button of his shirt, and did something with his hair, moving some strands around.

“There,” she said, withdrawing to look at her handiwork. “Much better. Not even you are allowed to outshine the bride, you know.” She smiled and stepped back towards him, to draw him into a hug, landing a kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations!”

And with that, she withdrew from the room, leaving Astarion blinking in surprise at the over-familiarity. Had she already gotten into the wine..? No matter. He returned to his preparations, which consisted of pacing around and trying to convince himself he had absolutely no reason to panic. He did not re-button his shirt.

The ceremony took place after sunset.

Their vows were heartfelt but brief. They both dreaded having to make an overt display of sentimentality publicly.

They both only laughed in relief when Minsc briefly stole everyone’s attention by releasing a loud sob when Astarion called Asmodea his sunlight in his speech.

The band was playing some cacophonous waltz, which seemed to be getting progressively faster as time went on, and Astarion was stuck swirling in a ludicrous dance that mostly consisted of spinning at breakneck speed around the dance floor with a partner. Between the ridiculous dance pas and the feywine he had been consuming throughout the evening, even his vampire head was swimming. He’d somehow lost sight of Oddie, as though it should even have been possible to lose sight of a boisterous little red cloud. And, absurdly, he found it simply impossible to leave. Apparently everyone needed to tick “dance with a vampire on their wedding day” off their bucket lists - new partners simply kept appearing in his arms after each turn around the hall.

He found himself leading Katrina, Gale’s date - apparently someone from the college he was teaching in - in yet another sequence. Surprisingly spry in her movements, she did not miss a step as she masterfully diverted an exchange of polite niceties into an interrogation on the topic of the intricacies of vampire digestion. Astarion could not boast the same about his footwork, as he nearly crashed them into another couple, caught off guard by the subject matter of her questions. Luckily they were nearing an end of a round.

“I… I don’t know, I suppose it’s all simply absorbed into the tissue..? Magically? I’m sure that’s a topic you know more about than I do. …I better return you to Gale, I’m sure he’s distraught without your lovely company.”

As they reached Gale, the wizard extended his hand, which Astarion presumed was for Katrina. As he released her, however the hand somehow ended up in Astarion’s, with another around his shoulder, and they were off, as though carried off by sheer momentum.

“Good gods, Gale, not you too!” Astarion groaned. “Alright, fine!”

Between the music, the flickering magelights and the voices all around him, the night starting to seem like a delirious dream he couldn’t wake up from. And where was Oddie..?

As they spun off, Gale whispered conspiratorially to Astarion.

“I have been tasked with delivering an important message.”

“Well?” Astarion sighed. “Out with it!”

“Your blushing bride awaits you. Through the kitchen, and up the service stairs.” Gale chuckled at Astarion’s immediate look of relief and gratitude. “Now go, go!”

He released his hands, leaving the inertia to carry Astarion staggering towards the exit leading into the kitchen, where he swiftly disappeared before anyone could note his absence.

He caught a glimpse of her skirt disappearing around a corner as he reached the top of the stairs. A hand beckoned him coquettishly before disappearing around another, and then there she was, grinning at him from the doorway of one of the inn’s suites. He tried to reach for and embrace her, but she only laughed and dodged him, retreating into the room and keeping a table between them.

“You left me stranded, all alone with those lunatics” Astarion admonished her, walking around the table as she mirrored his steps.

“You were having fun!” she protested

“I detested every second.”

“I saw you laughing so hard you choked,” she teased.

“Minsc insisted I dance with him and his hamster, it was awful,” he said darkly.

“Yes, Boo looked adorable sitting in your hair,” she laughed.

Astarion suddenly changed direction, and so did she, with a titter.

“Are you sure you want to play this game, darling?” he purred. “You know you can’t win it.”

She grinned, but before she could do anything, he simply leapt over the table, catching her in his arms. She gave a gleeful squeal as he spun and lifted her onto the table, wedging his hips between her legs. He planted his arms on the table around her sides, leaning over her.

“Ah-ah!” she warned, as he started to kiss down her neck, grazing it with his fangs. “No fang marks on my neck - we still need to return to the others before the night is over.”

“A vampire biting his bride, what a scandal that would be,” Astarion murmured as he dipped lower, towards her cleavage.

“Definitely not there, either,” she laughed, enjoying his cool breath tickling her skin.

Astarion straightened to simply kiss her, but once again, she held a finger to his lips.

“Sarana insisted on touching up the pastes and powders just earlier, and she will be most displeased if you ruin all her hard work before the night is over. She brought her greatsword to protect her artistry’s honour, you know.”

“And here I thought I wouldn’t need to fear any more githyanki women, with Lae’zel away on the astral plane…” Astarion lamented. “But I’m sure I can find a place no one will see…”

He urged her back until she lay propped up on her elbows, before finding her leg somewhere in the mass of her skirts, and kissing up towards her thigh, starting from her ankle.

“Now why would you wear something so ridiculous and impractical..?” he said between kisses, as he moved further up.

“It’s perfectly practical,” she batted her lashes innocently.

Annoyed with her mass of skirts, he hiked them up, throwing them up over her head. She laughed and tried to get out from under them.

“So it is! You naughty girl…” he purred against her skin, licking and sucking up her thigh. She was wearing nothing underneath the dress.

He sank his fangs into the inside of her thigh, making her gasp. His fingers teased her, sliding between her opening and her clit, grazing it but not quite giving her what she wanted, as he drank from her. His mind cleared, somewhat, as her blood hit his tongue, the effects of the feywine from earlier being replaced by a desire overwhelming all his senses.

He didn’t take much blood from her, instead kissing his way further between her legs, his lips and tongue caressing the soft skin just outside her sex, without going in.

“Please…” she moaned breathlessly.

The blasted skirt started falling over Astarion’s head and getting in his way again, and he growled, tearing at it, as he got up.

“Do not rip it,” Asmodea scolded him, still defiant despite her precarious position. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, kissing her - Sarana and her wrath be damned - as he impatiently unlaced his pants.

“But you will need to, later - I was sewn into all this,” she whispered in his ear once they’d broken their lips apart from one another’s, nibbling on his earlobe.

They both breathed a sigh of relief as he entered her, as though finding long needed respite. She wrapped her legs around his hips as they ground into each other, trying to alleviate a desperate need.

“Mine,” he gasped, thrusting into her. “All mine… Only mine,” he kept repeating like a prayer.

“Yours…” she gasped. “Forever…”

“I’ve been yours for a long time, you know, this is only a formality,” she said a while later, trying to make herself look presentable before heading back downstairs.

“Oh I know,” he answered, smirking. “But now I have a receipt that confirms it.”

The word ‘forever’ rang a bittersweet bell in his mind, but he brushed it aside. He refused to think about that tonight.

Getting into the carriage Wyll had arranged to take them home was turning out to be quite the challenge for Asmodea, given the voluminous skirt.

“Oh for the love of,” Astarion said, impatiently, before hoisting her up one-handed, and pulling her in after him. She collapsed on him, laughing, as he fell back onto the seat. Someone shut the door behind them, and they were off. The ridiculous skirt with its now crumpled and creased layers of fabric seemed to fill the entire cabin - it was all Astarion could see beyond Asmodea leaning against his chest, beaming down at him.

He reached up to tuck away a lock of her hair that had gotten loose.

“My love…” he whispered, smiling up at her. “Can you believe any of this..?” She peppered his face with kisses, as he continued, incredulously. “What in the heavens did we just do..? What did we do..?”

Present day

“I don’t understand,” Asmodea said as they lay in bed at dawn. It was just the two of them, the bard had been forgotten, at least for the night. “Why did he decide to come here to begin with? Didn’t he violate some vampire etiquette by showing up unannounced at another vampire’s lair?”

Astarion winced at her choice of words to describe their home, but answered.

“No, that was actually a display of perfect civility and decorum. I would have sensed his presence in the city anyway, and felt compelled to investigate. It saved me going down to the docks myself.”

Asmodea contemplated that, lying on his chest.

“I suppose it was better for the child as well…” she added. “Say, and what was in that letter from Leon, anyway?”

“Oh what’s in any of their letters…” sighed Astarion. “Complaints about the others and vague hints of an alliance should I join them.” He traced circles on Asmodea’s back, staring up at the ceiling. “Ivar was adamant that vampires will start flooding Baldur’s Gate soon, to plague the populace. He said it’s a matter of time before an angry mob arrives to drag me out into the light at daytime.”

They had accounted for such possibilities. The walls of the building contained hidden passages, leading down to the basement, which in turn was connected to the sewers. Astarion could cloak himself in invisibility and flee any time of day or night, if it ever came to that.

“We always knew this was temporary, anyway,” he continued. “The city guard will not touch us as long as Wyll is at the helm, but who knows how long that will be? He could remain Grand Duke for the next 50 years, or he could choke on a piece of steak and die next minute. And who knows who will come after him?”

“I’ve thought of all this, but I… I didn’t think it would start unravelling so soon,” Asmodea whispered.

As the sun set, Astarion headed towards the room they had provided Ivar. There was another matter he didn’t get a chance to ask him about. Although the sun still lingered just above the horizon, he found the room empty - the man was already gone.

Astarion swore and raced downstairs.

He caught him just outside the Siren. It was as though he couldn’t get away fast enough. Ivar gave Astarion a careful, apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No disrespect, I was unsure where you were. Left a ‘thank you’ note in the room, but now I need to get on the ship as soon as possible,” he said.

Astarion only shook his head dismissively.

“Before you do that, I just wanted to ask...” Astarion began, nonchalantly. “Has… any new ‘unlife’ appeared in the Underdark? Beyond Cazador’s original spawn and the 7,000 offerings? Let’s not count the dhampir.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking, Astarion.” Ivar sighed, wearily.

“Oh, but I think you know exactly what I’m asking,” Astarion said, piercing Ivar with his eyes.

“Necromancy is forbidden,” he replied. “The law states that all vile acts of necromancy are to be punished, the offenders chained in silver and given to the sun, their abominable creations destroyed. Every coven enforces this. Does that answer your question?” Ivar said, irritated.

“No, it does not. I will speak as plainly as I can.” Astarion looked down at his nails in apparent boredom. “When your wife lay dying, did you try to turn her?”

Ivar regarded Astarion with a darkening expression.

“Have you lost your mind?” he said. “Spawn cannot create new vampires.”

“There are those who believe that spawn become full vampires once their masters perish,” Astarion countered.

“And there are those who need to be reminded that necromancy is forbidden,” Ivar retorted. “Encouraging necromancy and spreading misinformation about it,” he leaned closer to Astarion, lowering his voice, “is also forbidden.”

“Oh don’t give me that shit,” Astarion hissed, dropping any pretence of his nonchalance. “As she lay bleeding, doomed and half dead already, did you try to turn her or not? As a last resort. I know what I would have done. So did you?”

“My wife is dead, Astarion. I buried her,” Ivar said grimly.

“Yes, yes, I heard you and I believe you,” Astarion sighed in exasperation. “So did she claw her way back out of the grave you put her in?”

Before Ivar could answer, his daughter started to cry, and he turned his attention to her, trying to soothe her. He did not turn away and leave, however.

“How old is your little half-elf?” he asked Astarion, finally.

“Around 40.”

“You have plenty of time, then. Find another way. Or better yet, stop playing the fool, bid your farewell, the sooner the better, and then stick to your own kind, in a place where you belong.”

Astarion opened his mouth to speak again, but Ivar cut him off, brusquely, and set out towards the docks.

“Take care, Astarion. You have my gratitude for your hospitality. I wish you well, and I hope we never see one another again.”

Astarion watched, silently, until Ivar disappeared around a corner. The man was gone, but the sense of unease he had brought with him had only grown. Astarion couldn’t shake off the feeling that what he thought had been whole suddenly revealed a multitude of tiny cracks.

Part 6

Thank you for reading! Find the fic on AO3 as well.

Thank you @grandmother-goblin for letting me borrow Sarana the githyanki bimbo for this chapter! 😄 You can find more of Sarana here, under Gale x Tav

Bonus post re the wedding dress

Tags:

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@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #some smut #some astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3weddingseason #bg3 fanfic #astarion x asmodea #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #bloodbang chronicles #asmodea #whatever the fuck the opposite of the dadstarion tag is

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the-girl-in-the-box · 2 years ago

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Not Today XLII

A/N: And we're finally back with another update! I posted on my last update to Can You Imagine? That I was going to try and get on a system of posting an update weekly, rotating which fic I'm updating, which means this will probably be updated about every three weeks going forward. So that said, I hope you all enjoy being back to this story, and I hope you'll stick around for the coming updates- I told you this wasn't abandoned XD Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Asta felt like she was going to explode. Talking to Olaf had brought up all the grief she’d felt over the years, everything she felt she had locked away when she left Kattegat, and now it was threatening to burst out of her if one more thing happened to bring it out of her. That’s why she needed to talk to Ivar- if anyone would know how to stay sane in the face of everything they were facing… Well, it wasn’t him, but he could help her sort through things at the least.

She let Hvitserk lead her back through the town quickly, indulging herself in the protective arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders. How would she be able to stand it if something were to happen to him, or to Ivar? She’d already lost so much… Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle it- and not like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d handled what had happened so far just yet. If she went through it in her mind- the father she hadn’t known, Heahmund, the father she had, Aethelred, her mother, Freydis, Lagertha, Bjorn… And those were only the deaths. What about Alfred, and Torvi and Ubbe who she hadn’t heard from in… who knew how long at this point?

Her mind turned back to something her beloved Freydis had once said to her, after the death of the Bishop Heahmund. When she had confessed her heart had broken with news of his death, Freydis had told her that her heart would repair. But that had been before everything else she had lost. She wasn’t so sure anymore that was true. Very suddenly, she held out her hand and held it to Hvitserk’s chest. “Wait,” she said, and he looked down at her confusedly.

“Princess?” he questioned. “What is it?”

“I think I need to be alone,” she confessed. “I need… I need to think. Please.”

“Of course,” Hvitserk replied. “Where will you be should we need you?”

Asta swallowed, looking out over the mountains. “I’d say wandering, but that wouldn’t be of any help, would it?” she said with a quiet chuckle. “There’s a clearing not far from here, take the path out of Vestfold and follow it to the east. I’ll be there.”

Hvitserk nodded a little. “Be careful,” he warned her. “Keep your sword about you at all times, just in case.”

“I will, thank you, Hvitserk,” she replied. “Will you let Ivar know?” She didn’t worry about clarifying, sure enough of him to believe that he would know what she was asking him to tell his brother. And happily, she saw she was right, as Hvitserk asked no questions. Instead, he kissed her on the head and wished her well before heading toward the palace.

Now all alone, Asta started down the path she’d indicated to Hvitserk, keeping an eye out as he’d requested. Besides, as little as she trusted Oleg and his men, she didn’t want to take any risks.

In the days since Asta left Wessex, she had noticed something about the way she’d picked up Viking customs. She didn’t pray the way she once did, not anymore. She had grown up praying in church, on her knees in the pews, hands clasped together and head bowed. Now, she just… prayed. The rituals had all stayed behind in England, and in their wake was left comfort and familiarity, a relationship as opposed to religion. Freedom she hadn’t once known.

Unlike Kattegat, Kiev had been stifling. She had to hide so many things there, for fear of what Oleg may do if he learned, even having to resort to hiding away to say a prayer. It wasn’t because Oleg had something against Christians- on the contrary, the man claimed to be one himself- but rather because everything he believed about her would begin to unravel if he learned this one truth about her. Asta knew Oleg would never understand how a wanderer who came to Kattegat, and became the wife of Ivar the Boneless, had become a Christian in her time there in Kiev- and to not partake in the rituals of the Kievan Rus would simply make him question things even more. She knew if he continued to pull on that thread, it would inevitably lead him to the truth- that she was English, and nearly everything he knew about her was a lie. No, she couldn’t allow that.

Thus, she waited until she was well enough alone to pray, and even sought out a hidden place to do so. Somehow, she found that just stepping into that space released the restraints she felt she now lived her life in, and she let out a long breath as she felt the peace of it wash over her. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed quietly, her voice nearly a whisper. “My life has changed… so much in the past years, Lord. My family are all but gone, my past buried so deeply inside me that I can hardly tell where the truth ends and this lie begins. Add to that how miserable I feel with each and every lie I tell, and I just… I’m so lost. Telling my story to King Olaf has brought it all back, every part of myself I’d silenced, and I know now that I cannot continue on this path I’ve set myself on. But what happens to Ivar and Hvitserk, if I reveal the truth? They’ve known me for years now, won’t Oleg know this? Know what they’ve done in helping me to conceal this? What will he do to them for covering the lie? I need You to show me what I am meant to do, to give me the strength to do it. I’m so afraid, Lord… of losing anything more than I already have.” She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “Help me overcome these fears. Bring me back to You. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted Asta, and she turned back to see Hvitserk running down the path. “Asta, you need to come now,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “They are going to kill King Olaf.”

Asta’s eyes widened as she processed the words, and she blinked a few times. “What are we doing?” she questioned. “What does Ivar want us to do?”

Hvitserk shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered. “He wants us to attend the execution, but we will not interfere. He wants to keep Oleg’s trust still.”

As little as Asta liked the idea of just letting this happen, she nodded. “Alright,” she replied. “Then we should go.”

They nearly ran back to town, to the docks where the execution was to take place, so they wouldn’t miss any of it, and by the time they wormed their way up to the front Asta could see that Olaf had already been tied down to a chair. Ivar, Oleg, and Igor were there as well, standing up at the front to watch the execution. Hvitserk moved to lean against a post nearby, while Asta came to stand beside Ivar, watching as two men stepped forward and began to pour oil all over… the wood piled around the chair? Oh. It was then that Olaf began to speak, and Asta’s eyes widened.

“There is someone beside me,” he said.

Oleg frowned. “There is no one beside you,” he said. “You are all alone.”

“No, there is someone beside me,” Olaf reiterated. “Although I cannot see Him, I know He is here.”

“How do you know, you old fool?” Oleg demanded.

“Because He speaks to me,” Olaf said. “I hear His voice.”

Asta swallowed as she realised what he meant, and a chill ran down her spine. Anticipation began to build in her. Listen.

Hvitserk glanced over at Asta, noticing the suddenly attentive gaze she had pinned on King Olaf. He hadn’t confessed to this earlier, but he’d heard the tale end of her prayer. He knew now what the woman was struggling with, so he asked, “And what does He say?”

Olaf answered, “He says, ‘He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. I am the resurrection and the life. I shall walk beside you. Always. Always.”

Asta was stunned. I shall walk beside you. She glanced over at Ivar, who she could tell understood the point of Olaf’s words, and had grown concerned. Why, she couldn’t say, but she knew what it meant to her. She had to do what was right, and the rest wasn’t up to her.

Still, she was distracted from trying to figure that out by Oleg’s interruption, as he instructed Igor, “Don’t listen to him, get on with it.” When he shoved the boy forward, a torch in hand, Asta felt anger boil up inside her. He was really going to make a child do this? He had the gall to order a man’s death, but not to go through with it on his own? To do it himself? She wasn’t sure her opinion of him could get any lower than this. Then, she noticed how anxious Igor clearly was, and her heart clenched.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured from beside Ivar. “He’s a child…”

“I know,” Ivar whispered in return. “But we cannot stop it. Not without raising suspicion.”

She swallowed again as she heard Olaf trying to comfort Igor, even as the young Prince was preparing to end his life. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, though in Asta’s experience that rarely actually helped.

“I can’t,” Igor replied.

“Think of me as already dead,” Olaf advised. “Nothing more can hurt me. Not the thunder, nor the deep swell of the waves, nor yet, the tongues of fire.”

Igor turned back to Ivar, as if silently asking whether or not he should go through with this, and while Ivar nodded to encourage him, Asta glanced over at Oleg. He was clearly quite unnerved by this, seeing that Igor preferred Ivar’s encouragement to his own, and that, at least, brought a small smirk to Asta’s lips as she turned to watch the execution again. Let him stew on that. Children rarely sought strength from the person who pushed them too far, anyway.

The boy knelt down in front of Olaf, lowering the torch toward the pyre built at the King’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Olaf replied. “My lands are in order, and I am ripe for Heaven.”

He offered Igor a reassuring smile, and Igor finally lit the pyre, before standing and beginning to back up. Ivar reached out and wrapped his arm around him to pull him back, protecting him from the flames that grew quickly to ensnare Olaf within them. To the surprise of most there, however, the man lifted his hands as if in prayer, and gave nothing even close to a cry of pain as he was consumed. Oleg shook his head and stalked off.

For once, his behavior left Asta unbothered as she watched Olaf’s life fade before her eyes. She hadn’t known him for very long, but she had quickly realized how wise he was, the depth of his knowledge, and the fact he had asked the question that had been the catalyst to her awakening was something she couldn’t simply overlook. It hadn’t taken very long at all, but King Olaf had become quite an influential figure in her life. But the Lord worked in mysterious ways, she knew, and all paths crossed for a reason. She found herself thanking God for Olaf’s life, and for the chance she got to meet him, swallowing as she blinked to clear the wetness from her eyes. The crowd began to disburse, and Ivar asked her if she was coming along with him, Hvitserk, and Igor, but she answered that she wanted to be left alone for a while.

She stayed until there was nothing left to stay for, a lone figure on the dock.

Eventually, Asta returned to the Great Hall, and she quickly became aware of Ivar at her side. “My love,” he whispered, disguising it with a kiss to the side of her head. “Are you alright? Hmm?”

She nodded slightly and leaned her head over against his. “Just tired,” she answered. “I don’t think I’ll stay for the feast tonight. I need to get some rest, think about some things.”

Ivar frowned, not convinced at all that Asta really was ‘just tired’ as she said. But, he wasn’t about to force the truth out of her in front of this crowd, so instead of trying he simply nodded and kissed her head again. “I’ll come and join you soon,” he promised. “And I’ll bring you food and drink. Go rest.”

Asta smiled up at him lovingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t know how much of a comfort you are to me.” She leaned up to kiss him softly, and rested her forehead against his, taking a deep breath as if she could draw some sort of strength from him. Ivar returned her kiss before pressing one of his own to her forehead, and releasing her.

She wandered off to head to their room, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Igor’s head and telling him she was proud of him, and when she got in there, the sounds of the feast now distant, she felt a weight come off her shoulders. Running a hand through her hair, she went and flopped down on the bed. It was then that her door opened, and she looked up to see who had come in.

If there was anyone she had expected to see, it wasn’t Igor. Still, she smiled a little when she saw him, sitting up to greet him. “Igor,” she said. “Can I help you with something?”

“You did not seem like you were well when you left the feast,” he told her. “I wanted to come and see what was wrong.”

Asta let out a touched sort of sound and smiled at him, reaching out to invite him to come and sit with her. “Oh, sweet boy,” she said affectionately. He did as she offered and settled in beside her, so that she started to run her fingers through his hair. “I’m more worried about you than you need to be about me. How are you after today?”

Igor swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to kill him,” he said. “I’m not even sure what he did wrong.”

This brought forth a sigh from Asta, who ended up laying back with Igor and holding him close still. “Nothing,” she said. “Your uncle wanted him dead because he feared the loyalty King Olaf could inspire in the remaining Vikings. This sort of thing isn’t exactly uncommon in war, but…” She paused and gave a soft sigh. “It wasn’t right, especially not the way it was done. Your uncle made the decision, and he should have seen it through himself- not passed it off to his young nephew. I can’t tell you how sorry I am he did that, and how much I wish he hadn’t.”

Igor shrugged a little as if he wasn’t all that bothered. “He said he wanted to teach me how to be strong,” he said. “So I had to be the one to do it.”

“Killing a man doesn’t make you strong, darling,” Asta told him. “Although you are strong for enduring what your uncle made you do today. But killing in itself isn’t what defines strength. In fact, your uncle showed a lack of it when he didn’t kill King Olaf himself.”

“He did?” Igor asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She hummed as she nodded. “He did,” she confirmed. “Never forget this, Igor. If you ever decide to execute a man, you must always be willing to carry it out yourself. If you aren’t so convinced it’s the right thing to do that you have the strength to do it, then it isn’t right. Do you understand?”

He nodded at her. “I think I do,” he confirmed.

It was just then that the door opened again, and Ivar was coming in with a plate full of food, a cup balanced carefully on it and leaned up against his arm. He blinked a few times when he saw his wife and Igor laying together. “Did I miss the invitation?” he deadpanned.

“Yes,” Asta teased him in response. “I was just telling Igor how he couldn’t trust you anymore, and he could only trust me.”

Ivar raised a brow and asked Igor, “Is that true?”

“No,” he replied. “She was teaching me about strength.”

“Ah,” Ivar said. “This makes more sense. I did not think she would betray me that way.”

Asta chuckled softly. “Mm, but he could be lying, you’ll never know,” she joked.

Ivar smirked and brought her food and drink to her. “Then I suppose I will just have to trust you,” he answered, and once the food was sat on the small table beside the bed, leaned down to kiss her softly.

That was when Igor gave a fake gag and got up. “I’m going to go now,” he announced, causing Asta to fall into a fit of giggles. “Enjoy… that.” He shuddered and then walked out of the room.

“Should we have stopped him?” Asta asked, looking up at Ivar and trying not to laugh, especially when he shrugged.

“I wanted to see if you were doing better anyway,” he said. Her laughter died down instantly. “Mm, you are not. Hvitserk told me you had left the village to pray. You only leave for that when something is bothering you. What is it?”

Asta swallowed and looked away from him, sitting up slowly as she took in a deep breath. This wasn’t a conversation she had expected to have this way, but… she had asked for a path, hadn’t she? The time had simply come to take it. She looked back up at him, and said, “I think we need to talk.”

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @crashbyers, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood, @lotr-got, @dekusdante

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#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc #ivar's heathen army #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #not today #chapter forty-two

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mighty-ragnarssons · 4 years ago

Text

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter II

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Warnings | some smut, a little angst, violence, harassement, teenage pregnancy

Keep up with the previous chapter here [chapter 1]

First of all let me thank you for the amazing support. You guys are the best! I hope you enjoy this one as well :)

You can read in AO3 as well (click here).

Chapter 2

Days passed and still no text. Ivar was tempted to drive by the apartment he’d left them at, but that would be crazy, right? He should’ve never told her to use his number in case of emergency. What if that was why she didn’t contact him? Instead he tried to let it go although it wasn’t easy. He’d go to class in university, he’d party with his brothers, he’d smoke some things to keep his mind away, but nothing really worked. Once he was obsessed with something, that was it.

It didn’t help at all when Hvitserk came home one day saying he’d seen Ivar’s girl.

“What do you mean?”

“That girl from the other night. The one you’re so hung up on. The pretty blonde” Ivar had to stop himself from growling. Why couldn’t his brother just tell him already? Hvitserk was clearly amused at the whole situation. “I left the gym and went to try that new coffee shop downtown, know which one? Well, she’s an attendant there. And you know what, she looks really cute in an apron” Hvisterk teased, seeing how Ivar’s teeth clenched slightly. “Cute and nice. She offered me a coffee and a muffin, saying it was to thank me for the help. Damn fine muffins. I might have to go there again for one of those sweet things.”

While Hvitserk daydreamed of muffins, Ivar was thinking about having them as an excuse to pass by the coffee shop. He couldn’t stay away and this was the perfect excuse.

“Did she tell you to visit again?” Ivar asked, taken aback for a moment. His older brother, much like the others, was the town’s heart breakers. Hvitserk’s pretty looks and dazzling smile could get him anyone he wanted. Perhaps he’d already bewitched the girl.

“I guess so. She works there, isn’t she supposed to say that? ‘Have a nice day. Come again!’ I’m pretty sure she says it to everyone. But if what you are asking me is that I got her number or anything, the answer is no. I actually asked her out again but she didn’t take me seriously” Pretending to be hurt, he put his hand over his heart. “Perhaps she is not into Ragnarssons. Interesting, uh? There’s always a first”

Stupid Hvits, Ivar wanted to say. How could his brother go after the girl he clearly had staked a claim on?

“Did she tell you her name?” This little detail was something he couldn’t stop wondering about.

“Now that I think about it, no, I don’t think so. I was too distracted by her pretty smile to ask about that” Well, now Hvisterk was really just trying to mess with his brothers “Tell me, little brother, will you crawl into that coffee shop right now?” he joked “Take my advice: lose the puppy face before going.”

“So funny I forgot I to laugh”

Hvitserk was wrong. Ivar didn’t crawl to the coffee shop right away that day, although he wanted to. Instead, trying to be rational, he waited a couple of days and decided to drop by after his classes in university. He could always pretend he went there to study, although that was something he rarely did. He just really wanted to see the girl again. She hadn’t left his thoughts since that night.

However, to his dismay, she wasn’t there. There were only two attendants and none were his nameless girl. His heart sunk a little, but disappointment was something he was used to. It no longer left a bitter taste to this mouth. He stayed, nevertheless. After a couple of hours working in his computer in the company of a whipped cream coffee and one of the famous muffins - his brother was right, they were a delicacy, he was finally willing to admit defeat. It’s not like he could even ask about her, not really given how her name was something he didn’t know yet. so, the afternoon definitely didn’t go as he had expected.

Frustrated, he put his computer back in the bag and left the payment on the table. With the help of his crutches, Ivar stood and was on the way out, almost making it past the door but stopped seconds before the door opened, almost hitting him.

He would’ve been mad, but it was her coming in.

“It’s like we can’t stop meeting like this” he chuckled.

The blonde girl looked surprised. “I’m sorry. It seems I have a bad habit of bumping into you”

Because there were clients trying to go through said door as well, both Ivar and the girl stepped outside.

“You’re leaving?”

“And you’re just getting here now?”

“I guess your brother told you I worked here”

“Well, yes. But I was just passing by. My university is just a couple of blocks away. I’ve been meaning to try out this since it opened and I needed to study”

He regretted saying this almost immediately. Would she get the idea that he was not interested in seeing her again?

“I only work here after classes” she informed, while mindlessly flipping her hair away from the side of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Ivar didn’t miss a single movement of hers, wishing he’d been the one doing that for her.

What the fuck, Ivar? Focus, he was trying to tell himself.

“It was nice to see you, Ivar. I don’t think I thank you enough the other night. You really helped us out. Not many would have done that” She smiled a little “I gotta go in or else I’ll be late for my shift” She moved closer to the coffee shop’s door.

He didn’t want to see her go, though “Maybe we can meet one of these days?”

Looking conflicted, she bit her lip “Perhaps we'd better not" she said “It’s like I told your brother… I have a lot going on, with school and work and.. well, I’m sure you’re busy too”

Ivar was shocked. Was she really dismissing him that quickly? He wasn’t one to take ‘no’ for an answer. “There’s always time if the company is good”

“You’re Ivar Lothbrok. One of the Ragnarssons”

That settled it. The first time he heard her saying his name, it sounded so good. This time? She was not as impressed, it seemed.

“And so what? What stories have you heard that led you to believe I won’t be any good company?” his voice was raised and succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable.

She shot him an apologetic look. “It doesn’t matter, Ivar. I’m sorry, I really have to go inside. Please, do know that I’m grateful for your help and I wished things were different”

“You just don’t want to hang out with a Ragnarsson, I get it” his accusatory tone made her flinch. Although his expression was carefully controlled, she saw in his eyes that her rejection stung. “Before you go, allow me at least to say a proper goodbye. I don’t know your name yet”

For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to tell him anyways. All of this was going terribly. But then she surprised him “My name is Eva. Eva Jørgensen”

Bitterly, and before walking away, he proceeded “Then I guess this is goodbye, Eva Jørgensen. Have a nice life.”

“Goodbye, Ivar Lothbrok”

Her rejection stung far more than he wanted to admit. It felt worse than his previous rejections, not just because of the blow to his ego, but more because he cared a little for her, had since the night he helped her in the club, and somewhat he’d been expecting things to go differently. How stupid he was feeling.

It didn’t take long for his ill temper to grow as he drove back home. Finding out that a party was taking place in the Lothbrok home didn't improve much of his mood, either. Moving through the crowd of people into the living room, he saw Sigurd playing DJ in a corner, looking high as fuck by the looks of his attempted dance moves. Not far from him was Hvitserk surrounded by a bunch of ladies. Ivar recognised many of the faces among the more than a hundred people.

“Brother” Ubbe showed up behind him. He was still in his business attire, looking completely out of place from the rave “Sigurd claimed we need to make use of the house before our father comes back. Texted everyone we knew.” he explained, opening a beer can. Only then he noticed his little brother’s somber expression. “What’s eating you? You look like you could use a drink”

“I sure do. Actually… You wouldn’t happen to have any pills with you? In your personal stash”

“Ivar… I’m not sure that’s a good idea”

“C’mon, don’t be a killjoy”

“Is it for the pain?” Ubbe asked, but reckoning it wouldn’t be. Ivar’s eyes were not the strongest shade of blue like they used to be when he’s suffering more than usual.

“Ubbe, will you fucking give me some or not?” he snarled.

“Look, I don’t have any at the moment. Maybe Hvitty does, but he looks like he’s already under the influence of them. Why don’t you just come out to the terrace, drink something and chill? I’m sure your shitty day will get better if you stop being so grumpy”

“Spare me the bullshit. I’m out of here”

Holding tight to his crutches, Ivar went to his room. It was the only room on the ground floor so the blasting music could still be heard from it. In need of releasing some steam, he took the matters to the gym they had on the basement floor, also known as the man cave. Getting one beer from the bar they kept down there, he decided to throw punches on the boxing bag, which he could only do from a seating position. When beers were no longer satisfying him, he took it to the bottle of vodka. Ivar just wanted to have his mind distracted from the beautiful Eva.

At some point, when his sight was already blurry and he had collapsed on a red couch, he thought he was imagining things for he’d swear there was a girl who was making her way to him. He tried to blink but his vision wouldn't get any better (no doubt too much alcohol and physical pain had taken over him). The world slightly dark around him, Ivar felt a set of hands pulling his t-shirt, then pressing onto his sweaty torso first, then down towards his pants. The next thing he feels is his lower lip being bitten. At the metallic taste of blood, he regained consciousness just a bit, but enough to discern the blonde girl who now had her hand inside his pants.

“Margrethe, don’t fucking play games with me” he said dangerously.

Margrethe only continued to look mockingly into his blue eyes. “So vulnerable and at my mercy, Ivar. Still, you don’t get it up, do you? Why do I even bother?” A mean laugh rose from her throat “Ubbe said you need some cheering. I guess I felt sorry for the poor little Boneless”

Something snapped in him. His ungovernable temper got the best of him. With the accumulated irritation of the day upon him, he suddenly grabbed her arm and forced it off of him. Muttering between his teeth, he warned “We 'll see about who’s at mercy here”. He could be a crippled, but he was not weak by any means. His hand was not on her neck so hard that Margrethe fell back against the couch, and stayed there with her hands spread out against him, trying to get off his grip.

“IVAR! What the fuck are you doing?”

Suddenly Hvitserk was pulling him away, making Ivar collapse on the floor. Margrethe jumped to the blonde brother’s arms in no time.

"He's crazy. He’s absolutely mad!” She whined, burying her face in Hvitserk’s chest. “Take me out of here”

To complete the party, the rest of the brothers showed up as well, all of them taking Hvitserk’s side and looking down on their cripledl brother. Their looks were one that Ivar had spent his whole life loathing: one of pity and superiority.

“You’re drunk, man. Crawl back to your room, cripple”

It was Sigurd speaking, of course. Margrethe was his favorite. Ubbe simply shot him a disappointed stare before the four of them returned to the party.

Ivar stood on the floor laughing hysterically until he realized what he had done. It didn’t matter that Margrethe was not a saint. She loved to miserly tease him just so she could humiliate him next. It still didn’t give him the right to go against a woman, though. Shame poured over him.

Alone on the cold floor of the basement, a single tear ran down his cheek. What a fucking miserable day.

The following days were no better. His brothers were giving him a silent treatment since the party. Sigurd could barely look at him without snorting. And without his brothers Ivar really didn’t have anyone close, not really caring for his colleagues at university.

There was one person. Floki, the oldest friend of his father Ragnar and Ivar’s mentor.

Ivar dropped by the bay where Floki had his workshop, where he worked on the sailing boats that had coined him the best boat builder in all of Norway. He now ran a successful company called North Sails. Usually Ivar would go spend his afternoons there and would even help a bit, but his mind wasn’t in the right place at the time and Floki kindly dismissed him after Ivar almost ruined a custom-made pine wood deck by spraying the wrong product.

For the most part of the week he had been lonely, which wasn’t something new, but it still bothered him. To pass the time, he worked out more and even went to all his classes and not skip some as usual, but none of that really helped. So that late October afternoon he had resigned to spend it indoors, playing playstation, which was something he usually delighted in beating his brother at, but not this time as he was by himself.

Until his phone beeped. At first, Ivar didn’t pay much attention, but then another text message flashed his screen and a word caught his eyes. Eva.

He immediately grabbed the phone, sliding into the messages from the unknown number which read:

‘Sorry to bother, but I don’t know who else to ask for help. Can you come to the coffee shop? Asap’

‘It’s Eva’

Less than fifteen minutes and many crossed red lights later, Ivar parked his SUV right in front of the coffee shop, not minding it was a forbidden parking area. Although it was past the normal closing time, the lights were on, yet the door was closed. On a normal week night, the street wasn’t as busy as during the day, and but a couple of guys in a corner, it was all empty.

Ivar first tried to look inside, then knocked. He was worried, wondering what help Eva needed. Was she in trouble? Was she hurt? Ivar surprised himself by figuring out that all the grudge he was holding against her was gone, completely replaced with worry.

He let out a sigh of relief when she came up from behind the counter and came to open the door, allowing him inside. The look of relief in her face did not escape him. “Thank you for coming, especially after the last time we..uh...met”

“What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

“This might be silly, and I’m sorry for making you come all the way here, you did tell me to contact in case of an emergency and this might not be one and I’m sorry -”

He cut off her nervous rambling “Eva, just tell me”

“My stupid boss went to watch a football game and left me the keys to close up the space, even if it was not on my schedule. Some guys dropped by. It was really difficult to get them to pay and leave. But they're not gone. When I tried to step outside and wait at the bus stop, they started coming my way and calling out. I rushed back here and locked myself. I was so nervous I texted you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking”

“Don’t apologize.” His jaw clenched. His face hardened, and he started to rise with a hint of violence “Stay here” He commanded before turning his back on her and walking out of the coffee shop.

“Ivar, what are you going to do!”

“Damn, Eva, stay inside”

But she wouldn’t and followed him into the alley. Ivar actually recognised the four guys propped against the wall, acting all tough. The Ragarnasson stood his ground, not feeling nor looking the least intimidated for being outnumbered.

“Nothing to do tonight, boys? You can always go home and catch up with the last episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians instead of creeping out here” he gritted through his teeth.

“Who do you think you are?” one of them stood to face Ivar.

“Oh, the brave one of the group, no? Get your asses out of here before I make you regret coming” Ivar warned seriously.

“You think I’m afraid of you, cripple?”

Don’t say I didn’t tell you so, Ivar thought before head-butting the guy in the nose. The scumbag immediately fell to the ground, dazed. Ivar stomped his crutch over his chest.

“If you ever come near her or the coffee shop again, I'm going to break the rest of your face. And after I do that, I promise I'll break every bone in your body, one by one. Trust me, I know how much it hurts to have your bones broken. You don’t want that happening” He lifted his foot a fraction and the guy whimpered “You know who I am. I am Ivar Lothbrok. I might break a bone, but I can never break a promise. Do you follow me?”

After Ivar let him, the guy rolled over. He seemed scared enough, his hands covering the bloody nose. The guys were looking at Ivar like he was mad and that scared them enough to leave as soon as they helped their friend get up.

When they were finally alone, Ivar turned back to face Eva, thinking he probably scared her off as well. Yet there she was and the next second he knew, Eva launched herself at him, giving him an unexpected firm hug. He definitely hadn't seen that coming.

“Thank you” As she stepped back, she looked a little embarrassed as if realising a boundary had been crossed “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot” She blushed. “I’m glad you texted me”

“I didn't know who else to text… I don’t know many people in this city yet.”

“Do these guys hang around here much?”

“Sometimes” she bit her lip nervously. “Tonight was the first time they tried to come for me. I usually don’t do night shifts alone”

For a moment he wondered what could’ve happened. Anger build up within him, making him wish he’d beat the crap out of those stupid guys.

“I don’t think they’ll try again. If they do, they’ll have to do deal with me”

“Again, I really do not know how to thank you enough, Ivar”

“It was no trouble” he replied, with a smile that made him look more handsome than ever, or so she thought.

“It was trouble. Are you hurt?” Again, without thinking, she came closer to him inspecting concernedly “Are you hurt? You head butted that guy strong”

“I’m fine, don’t worry”

“Well, I am worried. Let me at least give you some ice”

He followed her inside and sat waiting for her to return with a bag of ice. The inside of the coffee shop was welcomingly warm in sharp contrast to how cold he didn’t realize was outside. “Lean back” she instructed and he followed suit, putting his head back. Eva had to stand so close to him that her body touched his as she placed the ice bag gently on the swelling of his chin. She bent over him, her lips puckered in serious concentration as she tried not to hurt him. Other than his mother, no one had ever been so gentle with him before. Gradually as he takes in her closeness, he smells her perfume, surprised that it is something spicy, sweet and lovely altogether.

“I’m sorry you got hurt. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”

“This is nothing. I grew up the youngest of many brothers. Can you imagine how many times we wrestled while growing up?”

She smiled, causing him to do so as well. After how he treated her the last time they met, he thought she wouldn’t feel comfortable with him again, but it didn’t feel that way. He felt...at ease with her. Just like he did when they had first met.

Eventually, as Eva released the ice bag, their distance grew a bit. Ivar had to keep himself from growling in disappointment.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed after looking at the time and jumping to grab her things “The last bus just went by. Fuck!”

“Let me drive you home. There’s no way I was going to let you wait for another bus anyways”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore. You already had quite a share”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t take no for an answer”

Driving her home took longer than he imagined. She lived almost out of town, which made him figure it would be around forty minutes by bus. Driving took a little less time. Time which they did mostly in silence, although it looked as both wanted to start a conversation without really knowing how.

“You can drop me off here”

“Are you sure?” There didn't seem to be many houses there, mostly warehouses and shops.

“Yes, I live nearby.”

“I can drop you off at your doorstep” She seemed troubled which made him guess “You don’t want to be seen with me”

“It’s complicated, Ivar”

“You said that last time” he snorted, disappointed once again.

“You’re right. I did.”

“You have a look on your face that tells me you’re about to say sorry again”

“Well, I was. I am.” How had he read her so easily? “I wish I could explain it better. I can get in trouble if my family realizes something happened and that I took your ride. That is all. Ivar, I really owe you thanks for your help” her hand reached his instinctively. Eva looked up at him with a thankful gaze before getting out of the car.

He watched as she disappeared in the distance and drove off afterwards, not knowing how to feel about all of this. He had wanted to talk to her, learn more about her, ask her what was going on and on what terms they were on. He wanted to ask her if she’d text him again.

He wanted to tell her he wanted her to.

To his amazement, she did. Text him, that is. He was already in bed when his phone bipped.

‘I really thank you, especially for helping me out twice already. I promise trouble doesn’t usually follow me so often… I also want to apologize for the way I approached you at the beginning. I'm sorry about that. Let me know how I can make it up to you. Good dreams, Ivar.’

That night he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Tags: @adrille88 @istorkyou @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius

If you’d like to be addded or removed from the tag list at any given time, please, message me to let me know*

#knocked up fic #my fiction #vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fic #modern vikings #modern vikings au #modern ivar #modern ivar au #ivar #ivar the boneless #ragnarssons #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar x original female character #fanfic #fic #fanfiction

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thepaperpanda · 3 years ago

Text

Arranged Marriage || Part II || Ivar x Female!OC

Part I

Summary: Growing closer to each other, Freya and Ivar begin to realize that their parents’ decision about marriage was not as bad as they thought. Ivar tries impossibly hard to appear as unapproachable viking to Freya, but he’s actually very charming, as for her liking. Ivar, however, begins to realize Freya wasn’t merely a whiny woman as he formerly thought. As a result of their marriage, their wedding night is quickly approaching.

Warnings: smut (if you’re a minor, don’t read!)

Words: 13,5k

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

The morning came quickly. Too quickly as for Ivar's liking.

He woke up as the first one and discovered how beautiful and peaceful Freya looked while sleeping.

Ivar couldn't stop himself from reaching his palm to caress her rosy cheek.

After that, he got out of the bed and crawled back to his chamber, to not get caught so easily by her side.

Girl yawned loudly, hugging the fur she used to cover herself with, and growled loudly when she saw an empty spot next to her. He left? How could he leave her all alone?!

Freya growled loudly and then got up to her ready for the day by putting on her best dress, braiding her hair as beautifully as it was only possible and putting just enough makeup on.

Ivar was already present in the throne chamber, dressed in black tunica and black pants, with braces wrapped around his legs. He looked so fresh and happy. As soon as he spotted her, he raised his palm to greet her.

Freya huffed and looked away as soon as she noticed Ivar. Of course she was angry, he just left her alone when she was sure they finally had some connection. "Do you... Eat together in the morning? I used to do so with my family and I would like to talk to Ubbe."

"My dumbshit brother still sleeps. Yes, we do, mother is very strict about this." Ivar informed. "Freya, you look so beautiful."

"As I can see you are rude as always but thank you for miraculously kind words." She nodded, smoothing her dress.

"Beautiful and sweet as always." Ivar commented. "Why are you so unhappy today?"

"Oh, well. Let's see." Freya hummed, tapping her cheek. "I had a really pleasant evening with my soon-to-be husband. He was kind to me once but who would have thought he would be gone before I even woke up?" She growled.

"Okay, so what's the commotion about me getting up early? Listen, it takes me a while to get ready in the morning, especially when I have braces on." He raised his finger at his braces. Sweetheart, I need more time than you do. But I can't lie, you sleep so peacefully that I would love to stay with you longer."

Freya blushed but frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why didn't you? I wouldn't be mad, it would be really nice, actually, love."

"I told you why. I had to get ready for the day."

I could help you if you needed it, or at the very least, you could wake me up." She said, shrugging. "It wasn't enjoyable to wake up alone."

"I didn't want to disturb your sleep. You needed some proper rest after yesterday."

She sighed and walked to him, sighing. "Let it be but do not leave me like this." Freya suddenly touched his cheek, gently stroking it. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Ivar almost hummed and leaned into her touch. "Yes... Good... Keep on..."

Freya kissed his forehead softly after stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Ivar murmured quietly but stopped when he noticed his mother standing nearby.

Aslaug smiled widely and said, "And just yesterday you claimed to snap the neck of a girl that will come here. She has you wrapped around her finger."

You blinked and looked at him, raising your eyebrow at the whole 'neck snapping' thing.

"Mother," Ivar greeted the queen and rolled his eyes at the woman's comment about Freya, "Don't jump to such conclusions. She's just being helpful to a cripple."

Freya blinked, surprised and frowned. She didn't just try to be kind to a cripple. All she wanted was to get closer to Ivar but apparently he had his own conclusions. She huffed angrily and simply walked away to find herself a free seat at the table.

The queen chuckled, nodding her head. "Of course. Keep thinking that."

Ivar offered his mother a glance.

Soon, Ubbe joined. "Good morning, dear family," he said, finishing braiding his long hair. "Freya," he greeted the girl. "How did you sleep?"

Freya smiled at Ubbed sweetly and nodded. "I slept very well. The bed was so nice and warm until morning. How was your night?"

"Good. As much as it can be when you share a chamber with the younger brother who snores."

Ivar giggled loudly.

"Oh... I am so sorry to hear that. I heard no snoring." Freya giggled, giving Ivar a short look before her attention returned to Ubbe. "So, are there any places I could visit today?"

Aslaug frowned. "Why would you leave the Great Hall? Are you bored with my son already?"

Girl shook her head. "None of that, my queen. I just want to know Kattegat better. After all I will stay here, also I want to do something interesting."

"I can show you our settlement," Ivar offered instantly, throwing cold glances to Ubbe, "If you want, of course. Unless you want to go with my brother. At least no one is going to laugh seeing the two of you."

Ubbe stopped with a chalice raised to his lips, his eyes falling on Ivar's face. He could see the anger in his little brother's eyes. "I can take her for a walk, it's not a problem."

Freya looked at Ubbe and then back at Ivar. Oh, how she wanted to mess with him a little longer. He looked cute when he got mad and probably jealous. But she decided not to tease him for now, there would still be time for this. Her grin was contagious. "I will stay with Ivar.”

Ivar smirked proudly. It cost him a lot to not say anything to Ubbe. The feeling was amazing; he won the small fight and it tasted like ale.

Freya smirked as well, seeing Ivar's happiness. Those blue eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Rest of the morning went quiet. Freya was nice to other brothers and Queen, simply talking with them. After breakfast Freya got up from her seat and walked to him. "Is the walk still a thing or you changed your mind?"

"No. I'll take you on a walk. Just I need to go get something so I need to ask you for a little more patience," Ivar replied.

Hvitserk raised his brows and muttered something to himself.

"What's that?" Ubbe asked, nudging his elbow into Hvitserk's side.

“A girl is dating a cripple."

Sigurd shrugged and said, "She is forced to do it, Hvitserk. Remember, she does it to please our mother and her own father." He predicted, "She will run away as soon as she can.".

Aslaug ignored her older sons, looking too intently at Ivar.

Ivar smiled, and Freya gently kissed his temples. "I'll just sit here with the Queen and wait for you. Take your time."

He nodded in agreement. After slowly getting up, he limped back to his room.

Ubbe glanced at their mother. "Are you happy, mama?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. Of course, I am. Ivar will have this lovely girl as his wife." She nodded. "You three aren't happy for your younger brother?"

The smile on Ubbe's face assured Aslaug that he was happy. He had never shown such politeness before.

Hvitserk, on the other hand, merely shrugged. It didn't matter to me.

Sgurd rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Ivar didn't deserve such a chance. He will hurt her. Just like he did to Margrethe. One of us should marry her. Even Bjørn could."

Freya blinked, staring at them. 'Margrethe? Hurt? Who was she?' She wondered.

Ubbe rolled his eyes as he looked at Sigurd. "Stop it!" He said.

Sigurd said, "You were the first to ridicule him for that. She ought to know what kind of man will be her husband."

Ubbe frowned, encouraging him to tell her. "I bet my right hand Ivar will try to rip off your head."

Sigurd nodded and turned to Freya. "As for someone with such a beautiful name and face you ended up with a boy that can't even..."

"Enough!” Aslaug almost yelled. "The three of you are done eating. So off you go, I bet there are thralls thirsty for your pricks." She growled.

The girl was completely confused as she sat there.

The fuss didn't escape Ivar's attention when he returned from his chamber. Is there anything I missed?" He asked, holding a thick bear fur in his hand.

After giving the other boys one last look, Aslaug shook her head, smiling at Ivar. "Nothing is as critical as you think. Ready for a walk?"

Sigurd was the only one to chuckle at the question.

Ivar's eyes instantly scanned the room and stopped on Sigurd. "Do you have a problem?"

"No, not really. I just feel bad for Freya. The walk with a cripple will be sad and humiliating." Sigurd commented looking at Ivar.

Freya was fed up with this stupid play. She rose from her seat and walked towards Sigurd.

"I am tired of you, I am tired of your comments. I don't know what your problem is. I will be Ivar's wife in the future while you'll keep on fucking random thralls."

As Ivar blinked, he took a seat at the table to process what he had just heard. "Freya, leave him, he won't understand." Ivar said slowly.

Older brother said, "You will have problems with him."

Girl snapped, "I don't care. For now, I only have a problem with you. So go get your prick wet because you apparently need this. Maybe some girl will think you are special thanks to those stupid eyes."

Sigurd frowned. "As you wish. Just don't come to us when he will try to strangle you in your bed." He muttered and left.

Freya let out a deep breath and smoothed her dress before smiling at Ivar. "Are you ready?"

Aslaug was of course taken aback by it all but as a good mother should; she simply observed.

Ivar got up slowly and looked at her. He nodded slowly. "Sure. If you still want."

Ubbe smiled at the girl and his brother and as soon as they left, he looked back at the queen. "I can't believe they're speaking so calmly.”

Aslaug nodded, admitting, "You see? Your youngest brother isn't as bad as you all think, boys. He just needs some love and I am more than sure that Freya will give it to him."

Hvitserk chuckled a little darkly. "But mom, you do realise you'll never have grandchildren if it comes to Ivar?"

"Perhaps the three of you will finally follow your brother's lead and take a step to find a real woman and give me grandchildren." Aslaug snapped and added, "Besides, you never know, he may have more children than all of you combined."

"Surely he will. Did you hear that from the Seer?"

"Just go already. Don't you two have stuff to do? Or fuck?" She asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Of course, ma." Hvitserk replied and got off the table to leave the Great Hall as well.

"Let's just hope Ivar will be good for her and won't hurt her." Aslaug sighed, looking at Ubbe.

"What can I say, mother? You know he's short tempered, just like you," he winked at her. "So, you said that you need some help with planning. What can I do for you?"

In the meantime, Ivar stopped outside the Great Hall and looked at her. "Wait, you can't go like that."

She looked at her dress and blinked as she gazed at him. "Is there something wrong with my dress? Shall I change? Maybe I braided my hair in the wrong way... I can change, no problem."

Ivar gave her a look, cocking his brow. He handled her bear fur in a dark brown colour, saying, "You'll get cold. Put it on."

Freya quickly shook her head. "No, honey. You will get cold... Last thing I want is for you to get sick and suffer more than you already do. I will be fine."

The fur was simply placed on her shoulders as Ivar shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm a warrior, I am never sick or weak."

With a nod of the head, Freya accepted the fur and tucked it properly around her shoulders, nuzzling to it gently. "So? What shall we do first?"

"Follow me," he gestured to her.

While walking down the sandy path, Ivar told her about the buildings they passed by.

As Freya tried to keep up with him, she followed him slowly. Everything he said sounded so interesting.

"Over there," he pointed north, "Is a place where my father fled, leaving us all behind." Ivar said.

Freya blinked, surprised at the sudden information. At this point she wasn't sure what to say. "Oh... How could a father do such a thing?"

"My father might be the most famous viking of them all, but he is nothing but a prick." Ivar told her with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Freya nodded. "My father... Never left me. He always kept a watchful eye on me."

"Lucky you then." Ivar replied with his eyes stopped on the mountain on the horizon.

She gently touched his shoulder. "Let's go, Ivar. I am more than sure you want to show me more."

"Yes. I want you to meet a person who has a very special place in my heart," he informed the girl and gestured for her to follow. "Come on, come on."

Freya of course followed him. Her curiosity was piqued when she heard his words.

Ivar limped down the path.

Prince attracted a lot of attention from people, who stopped whatever they were doing to look at him and the girl by his side.

Upon seeing the couple, a few young girls started giggling and whispering to each other.

Ivar ignored them perfectly.

This didn't escape Freya's attention since it seriously pissed her off. Although Ivar wasn't ordinary, that didn't give anyone a right to laugh at him. Taking a look at the girls, she asked, "Hello! What's going on?".

One of them crossed her hands over her chest while whipping her hair. "Have not seen you before. We," she pointed at the girls gathered around her, "Aren't exactly sure who would accompany Ivar the Boneless. Especially if it's a girl."

Ivar stopped, looking back at you. "Freya. Come."

"At last, you are brave enough to speak openly." Freya frowned, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke. "My name is Freya and I dare to walk with Ivar. Do you have any problem with that?”

The girl giggled, "I don't think so, but I think you do." She said, "I hope you know what his sweet nickname 'boneless' means."

"I don't really care what it means." Freya simply shrugged. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

Another girl raised her eyebrow, giving Ivar a mean glance. "He will not be able to satisfy you nor give you a child. Pity you, you have a pretty face. You should have gone after one of his brothers instead."

"I'm sure you already have. I wouldn't be surprised at all, since you look like a simple whore who would jump on any cock." Freya said, shrugging and joining Ivar. "Forgive me that I wasted our time on these girls. Let's go now."

Ivar looked at her a little angrily. "I told you to come earlier. Listen to me. And don't engage in unnecessary conversations."

She blinked and frowned. "So you will just let them whisper about you behind your back?!”

The subject was dropped when he said, "I don't want to discuss this." "It's not relevant. Leave it."

She followed him as he wished, rolling her eyes.

Ivar remained silent the entire time.

He stopped and offered her his arm as soon as they left the settlement.

Since Freya was more than certain that he was angry, this gesture surprised her. However, it made her smile because it was a positive sign. The offer was accepted, and Freya took his arm. "I'm scared of where you'll take me." She stated.

He told her, "We're going into the woods, so you'd better make sure you hold my arm." "The last thing we need is for you to fall into a bear nest or something. As a cripple, I wouldn't be able to save your beautiful ass if that happened.".

Holding on to him firmly, she laughed and shook her head. "Throughout my childhood, I spent a lot of time in the forest running around, but as you wish, I will stay close and hold on tight."

It felt comfortable already to feel her hands on him; her grasp was strong yet light.

They walked slowly through the woods, in silence.

Freya remained quiet so as not to disturb the silence. She just kept looking up at the trees and the clear sky above. At some point she wrapped some of the fur she was wearing around Ivar's figure as well, just to be sure he wouldn't get cold.

Ivar looked at her after she wrapped fur around him; in the end he offered her a little nod and a smile.

Her face enlightened by little sun rays falling from thick treetops was like a blessing; her beautiful blue eyes glinting with small sparks of excitement, her round, soft lips parted as she inhaled the cold, fresh air into her lungs, her rosy cheeks from the cold wind on her high cheeks. She looked like a goddess. Ivar began to believe she really was one of Æsir.

Freya placed a gentle kiss on his temple as she continued walking.

In this cold wind, the fur kept them both warm.

Even though there was silence during the walk, Freya really enjoyed it. Just being close to him made her happy. She was a bit confused when Ivar stopped. "What... Where are we?"

Ivar shouted, "You old, stinking brat! Where are you hiding your slimy ass?!"

The more Freya looked at him, the more confused she became

Ivar waited for the response, but there was none. He finally turned to his girl. "Come further."

Freya became concerned that Ivar had lost his mind. The area looked abandoned and he appeared to be acting as if someone was there.

Suddenly, a tall, older man appeared before them. He appeared out of nowhere, letting out a deep laugh. As if a stone had been thrown into a still pond, his laughter made ripples. Why does a cripple with a crooked face like yours hang out with women?

Ivar tilted his head a bit. "Since none of them want to waste their time on you." The young man replied with a mischievous grin on his face.

Freya almost jumped out of her skin when the man suddenly appeared in front of them.

In an instant, she hid behind Ivar and looked at the stranger over his shoulder. Girl didn't like this at all, at least it looked like Ivar knew him.

In the end, the older man offered Ivar a wink as he summarised, "So you found yourself a cute, jumpy creature." "I'd like to see her."

Ivar turned his head a tiny bit to look at her. "Don't worry. He's not dangerous. Not emotionally stable, that's true, but not dangerous in the least."

Freya frowned, looking at Ivar. Even though she wasn't so sure, she did what he asked since she kind of trusted him. The girl sighed and smoothed her dress before walking behind Ivar. "Hello there... Um... My name is Freya."

The older man looked at the girl curiously and said, "With your look, you're very winning. Freya it is." He hummed, smiling brightly at her.

Girl nodded. Her eyes focused on Ivar as she replied, "Yes, that is my name and thank you."

"Floki is my father from another mother, an old, stinky, bald wiseass." Ivar told her openly.

Freya blinked and then gasped loudly. "Floki? You mean that Floki? The finest boatbuilder there ever was?!”

Floki giggled loudly while nodding. "That's me, my beautiful Freya. Am I such a well-known and distinguished boatbuilder that my fame is few steps ahead of me?"

Freya jumped into place, clapping her hands a little in celebration. "Your boats brought Ragnar everywhere!" she said.

Floki glanced at Ivar once in a while while watching the girl. "She's lovely, you should marry her."

After looking at Ivar for a moment, Freye laughed nervously. "Well.... So... I think you will like the news that this will actually happen."

"News?" Floki asked as he sat on a thick branch of a fallen tree.

Freya looked at Ivar. "Are you even here with us?”

Ivar stared at Freya without blinking.

Floki said, "He just zoned out. With such a beautiful woman by his side, it is no surprise that he did that. You know, he is not good with women."

Ivar frowned and walked over to the girl. "You're not particularly adept with women, old fool." He added.

"Don't be so selfish, Ivar!" A spirited woman replied and soon Floki was joined by a blond girl. "How are you, by the way?” She asked and immediately walked to Freya to cup her cheeks. A woman looked at Floki and said, "She is so pretty. Did Ivar really bring her here?"

Freya was giggling uncontrollably.

"He did.” Floki giggled, looking after the woman. "They brought us some news."

As Ivar walked slowly towards Freya, he nodded. "She's going to become my wife."

Woman's gaze fell on Freya as she gasped. "Is that true?”

Freye smiled and nodded. "Y-Yes, that's true. It's our parents' decision but it will certainly happen."

"It's our decision as well," Ivar's hand rubbed small circles on Freya's waist. "And this lovely blonde is Helga, Floki's wife."

Freya raised an eyebrow and looked at Ivar with a soft smile. Then she smiled at Helga. "The following statements are true. Soon we'll be husband and wife." Freya nodded her head as a bright smile appeared on her lips.

Helga giggled and embraced Freya before hugging Ivar. "Look, Floki! We will have a delicious feast to attend soon."

Ivar corrected Helga, "The greatest of them all. You know my mother. She will do anything to make sure this day is remembered and talked about for years." Ivar glanced at his girl. "And this beautiful woman, she has already brightened up the entire settlement. I saw people looking at her, but is it too much to ask? She is like a goddess. It was as if Freya herself chose to honour us with her presence."

Helga said excitedly, "Oh, she'll look even more beautiful at the wedding. I'll help her get ready. Find a gorgeous dress, braid her hair, I'll make her a big flower crown!"

Freye smiled and nodded. "I would love that! Since my mother won't be here, this would be very kind!"

Ivar smiled as he let go of Freya's waist. After letting go, he watched both girls walk away, giggling and talking. Ivar loved that about his soon-to-be wife: she was very kind to everyone and spread a pleasant aura around herself.

The shoulders of Floki wrapped around Ivar. "Are you in love?" Floki asked. "Your face is flushed like that of a young shieldmaiden who has just seen her first real manhood."

The only response Ivar could muster was a roll of the eyes.

Freya walked with Helga, talking and chatting about the wedding and everything that needed to be prepared. It was nice to finally talk with someone who wasn't directly involved in this whole mess.

A man as big as a bear suddenly called out Helga's name. Once again, she hides behind her new friend.

Ivar's smirk was instantly wiped from his face when he saw Bjørn approaching.

"Ivar!" The man shouted, taking only two steps before he was standing in front of a cripple. "I came to find you on behalf of your mother."

Freya was taken back to Ivar and Floki by Helga. "Bjørn! It's good to see you as well." She said cheerfully.

The tall, blond viking man completely captivated Freye's attention. His appearance was the opposite of Ivar's.

Bjørn caught sight of her with the corner of his blue eye, and soon his full attention was drawn to her. "Who are you?"

Freya smoothed her dress nervously and smiled as she cleared her throat. "My name is Freya."

While he didn't try to hide the fact that he was checking her out, his eyes drifted up and down her body, inspecting every curve. "Bjørn Ironside." He introduced himself briefly. "It's my first time seeing you, but you can't possibly be a thrall. What are you doing here?"

Helga announced that Freya would soon be Ivar's wife.

Freye smiled and nodded her head. "That's true, I was brought here to become Ivar's wife. So I am not a thrall, you're more than right."

Bjørn laughed loudly, rolling his head back a bit. "Oh, you poor, helpless thing." He took one step closer to find himself in front of the girl. His palm was immediately placed on her cheek. "Such beauty is going to be wasted."

Freya nuzzled to his hand and sighed, shrugging just a little bit. "Honestly, I wasn't the one who made this decision. Father brought me here and said I should marry him."

A glance from Ivar could freeze everything in a blink of an eye, as he cocked his brows. "Freya, let's get back to the Great Hall." He growled.

Bjørn's thumb gently caressed the girl's cheek. "Look at you, you could have anyone, but you're stuck with the most disagreeable person. What a shame."

Once again, Ivar sounded cold when he repeated her name.

When she heard her name, she turned her attention to Ivar. She purred quietly at other man's touch but her attention quickly shifted to Ivar. Freya bit her lips and even if she didn't want to, she moved away from Bjørn to join Ivar.

Ivar grabbed her hand, thanked Helga and Floki, and started dragging Freya after him.

Bjørn spoke with Floki for a while, watching as his step brother walked away.

I-Ivar! You don't have to pull me! I can walk on my own. I am not a horse you need to lead." Freya said as she whimpered under the strength of his grip.

"What the hell was that, woman?" He yelled loudly as they walked along the path that brought them to Floki in the first place. His grasp never relaxed.

She growled, "What's your problem this time? He was just polite to me!"

"And of course you had to fall for these stupid, silly games. As a wife, you have to behave like one. You think I'm deaf and blind?" Ivar raised his tone.

As Freya struggled to free her hand from his grasp, she said, "He appears to know how to behave around women."

With a low growl, he let go of her hand and turned quickly to her. "Of course! Go to him then! Go on! You're free!"

" I need to remind you there is no one who can free me from this situation! I will remain your wife no matter what." She replied, rubbing her palms together. She could see the bruise forming already.

"It doesn't matter. I knew from the beginning that this idea was absurd. How could you fall for someone like me? Go to him. I'm freeing you from this stupid arrangement that none of us are comfortable with."

"Neither you nor I are making this decision, Ivar." Freya said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could also be a bit gentler. It wouldn't hurt you."

As he hobbled away, he asked, "What if I don't want to? Don't force me to be someone I am not."

While returning to the settlement, Freya grunted frustratedly and passed him by.

While following the girl, Ivar grunted something under his breath.

Freya went to the settlement, but she wasn't interested in returning to the Great Hall.

She disappeared into the crowd as soon as she crossed the main gates.

__________________________________

The moment Aslaug saw her son walking into the house, she snapped, "Where have you been? The two of you were absent for several hours. It's supposed to be a walk!" She exclaimed. "Where is Freya?"

"I have no idea. I am not her father. She's probably fucking somewhere with some normal man, just like any normal woman would." Ivar replied as he passed Aslaug. "Now, leave me alone."

"What do you mean you have no idea? She is going to be your wife soon, you should keep her safe and close." Aslaug scolded him.

"I'm a cripple. How am I supposed to keep any woman close?! Even our fucking thrall didn't want to be involved with me! I'm nothing. Just like my father."

Sigurd laughed, playing with a wooden cup as he sat in front of a fire. "I'm sure if you act like a man for once, she will stay with you by herself."

Aslaug sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The two of you were doing so well. She will be your wife. Shouldn't you really try to make it work?"

Ivar growled, throwing his crutch on the floor and crawling throughout the chamber. "I don't need a wife. I think maybe you should start planning Sigurd's life? And not mine!" He screamed.

Sigurd rolled his eyes. "You are always so dramatic. I would have run away too if I were that girl."

"Enough." Aslaug growled at Sigurd who just shrugged his shoulders.

Ivar locked himself in his bedroom.

Though he hated to feel that way, he had a mental pain that was so intense that he almost felt a physical pain in his chest. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he leaned back against the wall.

__________________________________

Freya was hurt and angry as well. His behaviour really pissed her off. She did indeed try her best for him.

The girl found a nice place to sit near the market. She was able to eat an apple in peace. Thankfully, she still had enough coins to purchase one for herself.

Suddenly, a strong hand caressed her neck, caressing the crook of her shoulder. "Our gods will bring us together again, isn't that so?"

Perhaps you just like to follow girls around?” Freya asked and looked up at Bjørn. “Don't you have better things to do?”

"Saw you sitting here, all alone. As for the gentleman I am, I decided to verify if you're fine."

"No, I am not fine at all." She huffed angrily before biting into the apple.

His palm moved to remove a lock of her hair from her cheek as he sat next to her. "What's wrong?"

As she looked at her bruised hand, she muttered, "My soon-to-be husband is wrong. He behaves as he does and he is surprised when I snap back."

"He did this to you?"

"He grabbed me too hard. That's all." She shrugged.

"You should drop this agreement. You're a free woman, until you marry him."

"I am not. Everything is set..." Freya sighed heavily. "My father brought me here when I was a free woman. Now, I will become Ivar the Boneless' wife."

Bjørn was bold with his actions.

He wrapped his arm gently around her waist. He leaned forward a little. "If you want to be saved, just say it." He whispered into her ear, brushing his lips against her earlobe.

It really annoyed Freye to see him so close, so loudly she growled. "Oh, really? And how would you do that?" She asked, frowning.

"A Ragnarsson who is not crippled would be a better match for you." He simply replied after getting up. "Think about it."

Freya watched him with her eyebrow raised. Having another Ragnarsson hope that she will warm his bed was the last thing she wanted right now.

Bjørn left her all alone.

The girl sighed and stood up to return to the Great Hall. She wanted to go to bed, even though it wasn't the middle of the day yet.

__________________________________

Aslaug smiled when she saw Freya entering the Great Hall. As she walked up to the girl she said, "Oh Freya, thank gods. I was growing worried ever since Ivar returned alone."

Freyea smiled a little. "I am alright. Really."

The Queen cupped her cheeks. She said, "Relax now. If you need anything, just let me know."

Freya nodded and decided to join Ubbe at the table. Girl smiled at him, sitting down. "Hello.'

"Hi," Ubbe responded, staring at her intently as he bit into a piece of chicken leg.

She nodded with a soft smile as she said, "Enjoy your meal."

Ubbe moved a plate filled with chicken towards her. "þakka."

Freya blinked and shook her head. Though she appreciated the offer, she was not hungry. "No, no. Thank you, really. Have you seen Ivar? He made it back here, right?"

“As soon as he got back, he headed to his room. He seemed angry."

Freya got up and strolled straight to Ivar's room after nodding her head. She knocked on the door as soon as she found it. door. No response was received. A frown appeared on her face as she entered the room.

Wrapped tightly in furs and cuddling his pillow, Ivar slept peacefully. Dreaming of the only thing he was sure he would never be able to have - fatherhood - he heard the sound of his children's feet, of their laughter.

And he was so handsome as he slept, that steady heart, those steady breaths, more than enough to make everyone fall in love with him all over again.

She watched him for a short moment, then quietly closed the door before walking closer to the bed.

Ivar looked calm and sweet for once. Then she gently stroked his hair as she sat down on the bed. She felt terrible about making things worse.

At first, he didn't react, being fully asleep. But as she continued to stroke him, he rolled his head, leaning into the touch. While Ivar slowly opened his eyes and breathed back, he stared up at her without blinking.

Her hand moved away and she smiled awkwardly. The girl said quietly, "I am sorry... I didn't mean to scare you or wake you up."

"It's fine.” He replied, slowly rolling to his back, hissing a little.

She worriedly asked, "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I ask your mother to get someone for you?"

"Easy." He asked her. "It's fine. Nothing happens. Cool down."

Although Freya didn't want to risk it, she bit inside her cheek and nodded. "But... Are you sure? If you are in pain, I can bring someone or something to help you. It won't be a problem."

"It's fine." He assured, turning his head away from her. "What do you want, Freya?"

She quickly explained, "I wanted to see how you're doing, Ivar. Make sure you're fine."

"It's unnecessary, Freya. I'm always fine and good."

"Ivar... I am so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. You've done nothing wrong."

Laying down, she placed her head on his shoulder. I rarely do that. I really shouldn't. I am yours. No one else's. Such a situation should never occur. He wasn't worth my time."

"Just so you know, I don't blame you and I don't have any hard feelings toward you." Ivar assured, cocking his brow slowly when she placed her head on his shoulder. "You are a healthy, young woman. Your purpose is to become a mother one day, to give a life. It's in you, even if you aren't aware of it yet. With me, the grief will be the only experience you will have."

After shaking her head, she nuzzled his neck while cupping his cheek. "No matter what happens, I want to experience it by your side."

"Look at you. You're young and adorable. All men are losing their heads over you. And here I am, a crippled Viking. Do you realise how ridiculous it sounds? A Viking who is a cripple."

She sighed. "None of it matters to me. When you aren't so angry, you are a really nice person and I want to be with someone like that."

The man replied, "But that's not who I am." He said, "I'm vicious. Angry. Raging."

"Oh, Ivar. I know you aren't like this. You are so much more." She looked at him and smiled.

He closed his eyes and replied, "You don't know me.".

As Freya kissed his cheek, she whispered, "So let me get to know you."

He didn't react. But seemingly enjoyed her lips being pressed to his clean shaved cheek.

Freya hummed quietly and continued to kiss his soft skin, soon moving the kisses to his neck.

He turned his head to her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I am kissing your neck. You don't like it?"

"I do.” He replied honestly.

A small giggle was heard from her and she returned to kissing his neck.

He let her go further. "You should marry my brother."

Freya sighed against his neck. "I was brought here to marry you, not anyone else. It was already set in stone. Nothing could change their minds."

His right hand moved to her shoulder and slipped to the back of her neck where he stroked her. "If we protest together, they'll have to change their mind."

"You really don't want me as your wife?" Freya asked.

His fingers danced up and down her neck as he did not reply.

Her smile made him look at her as she cupped his cheek. It took courage for her to touch his lips.

It was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

Freye soon backed away. As she gently rubbed his chest, she said, "Let's not ruin something we promised. Is that okay with you?"

Ivar ran his hand through his thick, stiff hair. "Yes."

Freya could not contain her laughter. "You are good when it comes to talking with a girl."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not, I must admit. I still have time to learn."

"I will help you." She smiled.

Anxiety thoughts were like a horde of soldiers running through the battlefield, faster and faster. And Ivar felt very anxious at that moment. "We'll see how it ends." He rested his hand on the curve of her hip.

"Ivar, I can feel your heart beating like the heart of a scared rabbit. What's wrong, you can tell me." She whispered into his ear.

"Nothing. I'm not a good man, we both know it and we both are aware where it might lead. I don't want to hurt you, but on the other hand, this is who I am and I can’t just deny it."

"You? Not a good man? Why?" She asked surprised.

"I thought you're aware after today's outburst."

Freya laughed and shook her head. "Ivar. This? Really? You have no idea how many times my father snapped at me. One outburst doesn't make you a bad man."

"You'll realise this one day."

He closed his eyes, enjoying her presence.

"Don't be so sure.” She whispered, kissing his cheek gently.

He opened one of his eyes, glaring up at her face.

Freya looked back at him and simply smiled.

His hand travelled to her cheek, his thumb gently brushed her lower lip. He moved a little, pressing his lips to hers. She tasted like the finest ale.

Freya let out a soft, happy moan and gently kissed him back, wrapping arms around his neck.

Ivar opened his eyes a little to have a brief look at her face.

She looked like an angel. Long lashes, honey hair and honey skin. That girl was sweet from sun-kissed lips to soulful gentleness.

He gently deepened the kiss, trying to not forget what Ubbe had taught him about kissing.

She hummed gladly, accepting the kiss fully. Freya was actually surprised that he was such a good kisser.

When their lips, once connected in a shared, sensual kiss parted, Ivar looked into her eyes. "You're a good kisser."

Freya hummed, nodding her head while biting her lip. "You aren't so bad either."

Ivar's eyes didn't move; they observed you carefully.

Reading a face was using his intuition to see the real person, to allow his longing heart to see below their mask and respond with grace and tact to their real needs.

Freya's face was lightened up with a tiny smile dancing in the corners of her lips. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkling, her little nose twitching a little as a brief laughter escaped her lips.

Ivar chuckled. "I've been practising a lot.” He replied sweetly.

Girl nodded and watched him. Ivar was handsome just the way he was, even if he didn't think so at all. There was more to him than just legs and Freya could see this.

There were still many hours left before the night. As much as Freya wanted they couldn't spend the day in bed. Girl got a nice idea. "Ivar? You know how to use a bow?” she asked curiously.

"Do I know how to use a bow? This is such a random question but yes, I do, why?," Ivar replied, frowning a little.

Freya gasped loudly. "Could you teach me?! I kind of know how to use it but I am not the best at it."

"You want to learn how to use a bow?," He asked. "What for? You're a lady."

She frowned. "Ladies fight as well. I want to be able to fight! How else will I help my husband during a raid?"

He blinked. Ivar was at a loss for words. "You're not only soft-hearted, you're tough enough to stay that way. That takes a kind of bravery that I'm still processing," Ivar replied in the end. "I need to admit that you're a great surprise to me. I'm lucky enough to have a woman with ambitions by my side. Have you ever fought before?"

Freya giggled and shrugged. "I have three older brothers. Life wasn't easy and most of our play time ended with stick fights," she explained. "Once I got older they helped me learn a thing or two. Just to be sure their little sister is safe. I am the youngest child."

The youngest and the cutest at the same time, Ivar thought to himself, but he didn't say it aloud.

He considered her words. "If you want, we can go to the woods to have training."

Freya nodded eagerly. "Yes, pretty please. I would love you to teach me."

She immediately sat up and then got up quickly. "Let's go!" Girl jumped in place.

Ivar blinked once again. "Let me get ready. Wait in the throne chamber."

"No... Can I help you with anything? I... As a good soon to be wife, I should know what my husband's needs are."

"I need to put the braces on," he replied softly.

Freya straightened her back and nodded. "Tell me what to do and I will follow."

"Ahm, Freya, I can do this on my own, don't worry about your little, pretty head."

Freya shook her head and kneeled in front of the bed. "I want to know what my husband needs if I ever have to help him.'

As much as he didn't condone this, with a loud sight he gave her a nod.

Ivar reached to get the braces. "You need to be careful, extremely careful. You need to know that my legs tend to hurt a lot."

Freya bit her lips and nodded, taking the braces from him. After taking a deep breath she started to gently put the braces on.

He sat there stiffened, almost forgetting to breathe; he was mentally ready for the pain wave that would wash all over him if she would not be gentle enough.

Freya worked gently and carefully, making sure to not cause him any pain. This was the last thing she wanted. After a moment she looked up at him. "Everything's fine..?"

He was looking down at her with his eyes wide opened, his breath held back. Ivar nodded, slowly exhaling. "Yes. Yes, you're doing a very good job down there."

She smiled proudly and continued her work to soon put the braces on his other leg as well. Freya honestly felt happy that she didn't hurt him at all.

Ivar reached hand out and put it to her cheek, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "Ágeatavel, þakka.” He said quietly.

It was the very first time when someone was truly kind to him. He wasn't sure how to behave. He wasn't sure what to tell her and how to express his gratitude.

When he made sure his palms were gloved, Ivar got up and offered his hand to Freya. "I can also teach you how to use an axe."

Freya grabbed his hand and happily followed him, smiling at everyone who dared to give them a weird look. She really wanted to build a bond with him and apparently she indeed found a way to do so.

Ivar stopped in the throne chamber to collect his lighter fur. He also attached his favourite axe to a sheath.

Freya grabbed her own fur and then simply watched Ivar getting ready. She was so excited for those lessons. "Can we go?"

"You two are going out again? Will this end up in another fight?” Aslaug asked as soon as she noticed Ivar putting on the fur.

Ivar smiled briefly at his mother. "Hopefully it won't. Don't worry, mother. And don't wait for us. I want to take Freya to the tavern later."

Freya blinked but nodded. "I will make sure we are safe. No need to worry, my queen."

Aslaug sighed and nodded. "Fine then. Just don't get her drunk, Ivar."

"So I can get my ass drunk? Thanks, mother." He teased Aslaug with a little giggle. "Freya, come on."

She nodded and followed him.

Ivar limped slowly through the settlement, leading her to the secret place where he used to train with his brothers. He hoped Sigurd or Hvitserk wouldn't be there.

Girl this time followed him without stopping but she still was giving a mine glances to anyone who dared to giggle or anything.

Of course Sigurd was there. Freye didn't like it because she could already feel the trouble coming. "Oh, Freya! It's so good to see you again!” Sigurd immediately got up from his spot under a huge tree, where he was polishing the blade of his axe. "It's such a shame you have a trail behind you," he added as soon as he spotted his crippled brother.

Ivar didn't reply, instead passed Sigurd by, of course poking him with his shoulder.

Freye huffed and passed by Sigurd as well, trying her best to ignore him.

She was growing tired of his behaviour, all she wanted was to spend some time with Ivar.

She wasn't fast enough; Sigurd caught her by her wrist, pulling her closer, letting his free hand wrap around her waist. "Look at you, such a pretty girl."

"Let me go!" She growled annoyed. "I came here with Ivar. Take your filthy hands off of me!”

"Oh, so resistant.” He chuckled.

His laughter was yet cut off by an axe flying right next to his face, sticking in the branch. It was Ivar's axe.

Freya blinked surprised and looked at Ivar yet she frowned since Sigurd's grip didn't loosen at all. "I warn you, better let me go."

Sigurd was looking hard in her eyes, then let go of her wrist. "So you've chosen. You want to be his cum sack. Fine then but do not come to me if he won't satisfy you."

She finally had enough and simply punched Sigurd in the face, hissing softly as she moved away. "Shut up finally! I have enough of you, by being such a shitty person you will never get any normal girl to like you. Only cheap whores catch an eager cock like you." Freya growled, massaging her palm.

Ivar limped closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You heard the girl, don't ya?" He asked with eyebrow cocked, looking at Sigurd who fell to the ground.

Other brother got up and spat on the ground right next to Freya's feet. "Whore."

"Say it once more and I'll cut your tongue off.” Ivar informed Sigurd, remaining stoical.

Freya crossed arms over her chest, his words didn't offend her at all. "You better go. Find some woman with no taste who will even want to fuck with you. We are too busy to deal with you, right love?"

"Exactly." Ivar pulled her closer to offer her a lovely kiss.

Sigurd growled loudly. "This is not over yet, Ivar." Then he left the two.

"Like what would he do? Growl at us?" Freya asked, looking at Ivar.

"I have no idea what he meant."

Freya shrugged and clapped her hands. "Who cares. Let's get to what we were planning, I can't wait!"

__________________________________

Ivar showed her many things, from how to use a bow to how to throw an axe.

Freya laughed loudly when the arrow hit the exact spot she was aiming at. She was really mastering her skills. "Did you see that?!”

"Yes, Freya. Good shot." Ivar praised her with a grin on his lips as he sat on a thick branch of a fallen tree.

"Axe probably won't be my best weapon but I am getting good with the bow.” She said proudly. "I will be able to join you during the raids!"

"Join me during raids, you say?" Ivar asked, raising his eyebrow. "You'll never go with me."

Freya looked at him. "What... Why not?”

He measured her features with his glance carefully. "You're too pretty and too precious to be put in such a dangerous situation."

She blushed, hearing his words. Blinking from time to time, she stared at him. "But... I was sure you would love your wife to be with you while raiding distant lands..."

"I'd love my wife to be safe, ruling the kingdom while I'm gone to distant shores, nursing our children.” He said and blushed a little.

Freya blushed a little as well and smiled sweetly. "Oh, really? Nursing our children, you say?" She hummed while walking to him.

"Nursing our children,I say.” Ivar nodded, his face straight as he spoke. "Every marriage has a purpose. It's about giving new life in the end, isn't it, dear Freya?"

She walked to him closer and gently moved hand through his hair. "I think it is. But I was sure you hate me and you don't really want me as your wife or mother for your children."

"I didn't say such a thing.” He shrugged, pretending to not remember about him saying all of the bad stuff.

She hummed and hugged him, stroking his hair lovingly. "In that case... I cannot wait to nurse our children."

He got sad instantly. With a sadness written on his face, Ivar looked up at her. "You do realise I can't give life, right?”

Freya hummed and kissed his head gently. "You don't know that for sure, Ivar."

"Everyone says that.” He reminded her. "Besides, look at me. A crippled viking? I barely can walk. How am I supposed to get you pregnant?"

"Just because people say something doesn't mean it's true. We will see how it is and who knows. Maybe you'll get me pregnant." Freya shrugged a little. "And then I will nurse a lot of our children."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah... Don't you have a feeling you're going to lose all of your best years by the side of the cripple? It must be terrifying."

Freya gently smacked him on the head. "Stop that, I swear to Odin himself.”

__________________________________

He was supposed to be married on that day. He was supposed to be married to the woman his parents had arranged.

But Freya proved to be quite the opposite of the conservative woman he had expected.

He considered Freya to be his soulmate. A partner in crime and his closest friend.

Grabbing Freya's cheeks, Helga exclaimed, "You look so cute!"

As Freya listened to her words, she couldn't help but giggle. Her nerves were frayed. The girl really did fall in love with Ivar, but once that day is over, she will be bound to him until the end; what if he was so kind just up until the wedding? What will happen on the wedding night though?

"Of course she is. After all, Freya is my son's wife." Aslaug smiled, braiding Freya's hair.

In the meantime, Ivar was at the seaside, where the wood altar was built.

In a white silk tunic, matching material pants, and with his hair brushed, Ivar sat on a chair brought to him by Hvitserk.

As Ubbe ruffled Ivar's hair and grinned at him, he said, "Look at you. If I didn't know you, I would call you an angel."

"Stop it.'' The younger brother grunted, pushing Ubbe's hand off his head. "I brushed it. You'll destroy my hairdo."

"You did? It looks as messy as always." Hvitserk giggled. "Freya will run away as soon as she sees this mess. Or you."

Ivar frowned, looking at Hvitserk. Then his eyes moved to Ubbe. "Tell him to stop," he demanded.

Ubbe rolled his eyes and poked Hvitserk's shoulder. "Quit it. Your brother gets married today. Behave."

"Oh you know I am joking but we all know that mother set it up. There is nothing... Real in this relationship," Hvitserk shrugged. "I have no idea why he is so excited about this."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?” Hvitserk asked, looking at his younger brother. "You really think she loves you? Freya was forced to attend this wedding."

Ivar clenched teeth, huffing angrily. "And what do you know about love, dear brother? She loves me and I love her."

Hvitserk summarised, "It's her duty, not her will, Ivar. I doubt you know much about love either. Oh! There she is!"

Ivar turned his head so he could see Freya.

Immediately, his heart beat faster, his blood ran cold through his veins, and the only thing he could do was release a gasp.

As Freya wore a long white dress and had her hair braided neatly, she looked like a goddess.

As a result of instinct, Ivar was compelled to get up from his chair and walk to her. Despite shaking all over his body, he managed to pull himself up, leaning against the back of the chair.

Freye smiled, seeing him. She felt so happy that this day finally came, even if she was really scared Freya couldn't wait. She gasped a little, seeing him standing up proudly.

"Ivar, you shouldn't," Ubbe whispered to his brother quietly. "Sit down, you can't put so much on your legs. Your eyes are blue."

Ivar simply waved his hand at Ubbe. "Don't tell me how to live my life, you ain't my mother, Ubbe."

She took a deep breath, improved her dress and started to walk to finally meet with Ivar at the altar. Girl smiled and cupped his cheek. "You should sit down, love," She whispered, looking at him worriedly. In the past few weeks she learned a lot about Ivar and anything that has to do with his health, including his blue eyes. "You will be in pain later."

With his eyes widening and lips parted, he forgot to breathe; this became a habit of his when he was with her.

Freya blinked and glanced at Ubbe over Ivar's shoulder. "Could you please sit him down?" she asked.

Without saying a word, Ubbe tapped Ivar's shoulder and nodded. It's time to sit.

Ivar obeyed with his eyes glued to his soon-to-be wife.

Freya smiled sweetly at him and gently kissed his forehead. She whispered, "Now... We can bond in front of our Gods.".

Let me take a moment to collect myself. I should stand by your side."

Her hand was raised so she could kiss it gently. "I am so happy."

There were too many emotions accumulating within him, and he was shaking all over.

Freye smiled at him as she asked, "So let's start?"

A tiny smirk danced across the corners of Ivar's lips as he replied, "Yes."

__________________________________

The wedding only lasted a few minutes. During the ceremony, the prophetess who conducted the ceremony exchanged rings, they were united by blood, and she pronounced them husband and wife, for good or for bad.

Once they returned to the settlement, they were greeted by a cheering crowd, led by queen Aslaug. Of course his brothers prepared a feast for them.

Freya was genuinely surprised by the size of the feast. Although she expected a feast, she did not expect it to be so large. Waving to her father and her older brothers, the girl giggled. "This feast is so huge, Ivar! I never expected this!’

She followed her newly married husband, stumbling a bit behind him. My beautiful Freya, I hope you enjoy your day today."

She assured him, "I will certainly do so. A whole feast by my husband's side? This will be better than anything else.".

Ivar waited politely until she sat first when they reached the spots set by thralls.

Freya greeted her older brothers. The men hugged her tightly, giving Ivar a disapproving look. It was good that Freya got married, but why to the cripple?

Prior to joining Ivar, the girl greeted the queen and Helga as well.

After she joined Ivar, she asked softly, "Shall we begin that feast, love?”

He nodded, "I'd like that."

She smiled, taking her horn and raising it up high, "Let's not wait and start the feast, dear friends!"

Seeing her family's glances, Ivar sat slowly. As her husband, he knew they were unhappy. The girl could do better.

As Freya noticed that he was looking at her brothers, she frowned. Touching his shoulder, she asked, "Ivar?".

He turned his head towards her. "Yes?"

When he turned to her, she immediately used the opportunity and pressed her lips to his.

While she was kissing him, Ivar caught himself looking at her face.

Shortly thereafter, he closed his eyes and slipped his tongue past her lips, returning the kiss.

She hummed into the kiss and cupped his cheek. This was to show everyone that she is not ashamed of her husband even in the slightest.

He blinked as their lips parted. "That was something, Freya.."

"Something special, just for my husband." She giggled.

He smiled at her, "It seems that your brothers aren't pleased with me."

"They were not satisfied with anyone who came near me. Honestly? When my father brought me here, I was surprised that they didn't join forces to kick the asses of anyone who wanted to be near me."

"I can fight any of them for you," Ivar said, gesturing at the thrall to pour him more wine.

Freya laughed softly, "You don't have to, love. We don't want any bloodshed or conflict, right?"

“There's something fun about blood spilling on the ground, isn't there?”

"I don't think so, love. Once they get to know you, they will stop." She assured him.

Ivar nodded, "Fine then. We'll spill the blood of our enemies someday."

"You will spill the blood of our enemies and conquer all the distant lands, and I will be here, nursing our children."

"That's my wife." He smiled, trying to cover the blush crawling on his cheeks by raising a chalice with wine up to his lips.

"That should be interesting.” Freya said to Ivar quietly, observing how Hvitserk started to pick on her oldest brother.

Ivar also focused his gaze on Hvitserk. "I bet my bracelet he'll get his ass kicked tonight. Finally."

"Let's watch." She giggled.

Meantime, the man glanced over his shoulder at the stranger that kept bothering him. "And who are you, little boy?"

"Hvitserk Ragnarsson, prince of Kattegat." The young man replied, playing with the knife he held in his hands. "I don't like the way you and your companions are looking at me and my brothers." He pointed to the table where all the Ragnarssons were sitting.

"That's what eyes are for. We look whenever we want." One man said, shrugging, and the others nodded. "This is our first time here, so we are curious."

"I welcome you here, but please stop glaring at us." He gestured towards the sitting man. “Were you taught any manners?"

"Manners have nothing to do with this, little man." The oldest guy replied, his eyes widening as others laughed.

Hvitserk glanced back at his brothers and Sigurd nodded to encourage him to behave properly.

Hvitserk simply pushed the man's shoulder as he said, "I don't like when you stare."

The man stood up right away, he was easily twice the size of Hvitserk. The two others followed. They were not much shorter than their brother. “Then let's resolve this matter as men and women. Because you are the only whiny bitch complaining that we are staring."

Hvitserk reached for the hatchet attached to his belt immediately, being unfazed by the man's height.

With just one gesture, Ivar silenced almost everyone in the chamber. "Enough. Those of you who still have business should go outside, cool down, and only then return."

As Freya nuzzled the shoulder of Ivar, she replied, "Yes, that would be nice. We don't want any fights at our wedding feast."

"We're just fooling around here, my dear sister. We won't ruin your day." The men laughed.

Ivar looked at them with a cold, careful glance. Any trouble would be just the last thing they needed.

Hvitserk nodded at the huge man and patted his shoulder. "I was just messing around with you."

"I like this one!" the tall man laughed and wrapped his arm around Hvitserk. "If everybody is like that, we might even accept Freya's husband."

A nasty smile appeared on Ivar's face in response, after he heard the man's words.

Laughing, Freya watched as her brothers stepped forward and joined Ragnar's sons. "I really expected a fight to happen."

"My troll brother Hvitserk's strange charm attracted them this time, thank goodness."

“I knew they would get along just fine. Just like I did with you." She hummed, resting her head on Ivar's shoulder. "You know what?"

"Hmmm?” He murmured, looking down at the girl.

Her excitement was obvious as she said, "I am glad we are finally together for real!".

He touched her nose. "Surprisingly, I am glad too. I have been stressed for a few days."

"It's funny to think back on how you treated me in the beginning. You threatened to kill any girl that came near you." Freya let out a sharp breath.

"As you can see, I got rid of my stupidity rather quickly." Ivar replied.

She took his hand in hers and said, "I hope you did, my dear husband. I am so lucky to have Ivar the Boneless as my husband."

His blue eyes were open wide, glistening in the light filling the chamber. She could easily conclude he was happy.

His fingers massaged her hand as he squeezed it.

As Freya smiled gently, she nuzzled and kissed him on the cheek, and enjoyed his presence. She stayed at Ivar's side throughout the entire feast. She did not go dancing or chatting with anyone. All she wanted was to be with Ivar.

Toward the evening, Ivar and Freya decided it was time to leave the feast and rest. After leaving the crowd behind, Freya giggled as she flopped on the special bed that was prepared for them. It was filled with soft furs and flower petals.

The man blinked twice as he peeked inside the room before closing the door behind him as he stepped inside. As he slowly limped to the edge of the bed, he commented, "I don't know what you told the thralls, but they did a decent job." Putting his crutches aside, he gazed at the girl. "I'm in awe of your beauty tonight."

A sweet smile spread across Freya's face. "You look so handsome tonight. I am the happiest woman alive." She said and added, "I never imagined I would be that happy."

A smile spread across his face as he undid the stripes of his tunic that had been neatly wrapped around his neck. He removed it slowly, hesitantly.

She climbed up on her knees and moved closer to him so that she could gently help him undress.

When he felt her hands suddenly wandering down his chest, he blushed. "þakka."

Her fingers grazed the strings on the front of her dress as she sat next to him.

"Would you mind helping me take it off?" She asked innocently.

He blinked and felt as if the blood was floating away from his face, leaving him pale. With his eyes fixed on hers, he reached for the strings, untying them quickly. "Very well," he whispered.

"Just take it off." Freya whispered, staring deeply into those stunning blue eyes of his.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat before he asked, "Like, completely?"

He assumed that she would probably have doubts about him and could think negatively of him because of his silliness.

Her eyes widened. "Yes please. It's too beautiful to sleep in, and I don't want to ruin it."

After nodding, he put palms on her shoulders and slipped his fingers under the fabric of the dress, gently pushing it down her shoulders, revealing her chest and belly.

Her breasts caught his attention before he could think. When he realised he was staring, he cleared his throat. "Fyrirgef..."

"It's all yours, Ivar. You can look, touch or whatever else you choose." She took his hand and placed it on her breast as she spoke. "You don't have to be sorry." She laughed. "It's all yours."

His eyes widened and he forgot to breathe once more. "Freya..." He whispered in the end, taking back his hand. "I don't want to disgrace you in any way."

"You do not disgrace me, love. You are my husband now. You have the right to watch me and touch me like this." She said softly.

His eyes wandered again down her body as he asked, "Can I kiss you...?"

"No need to ask. Those lips are yours now. You can do anything you want." She hummed.

In a tender kiss, he slipped his tongue past her lips as he put his palms to her cheeks.

Feya moaned into the kiss and returned it eagerly.

He hummed softly in the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer to him.

He left her lips and moved his kisses to her neck, gently trailing the tip of his tongue down her pulse point.

Then he moved his kisses down her neck, tracing the tip of his tongue down her pulse point.

"Oh, Ivar..." Freya rubbed her hands into his hair and moaned before biting her lip.

The man cupped her breast in one hand while his other rested on her hip. The man moved his lips down her neck to touch her clavicle while exclaiming, "You're so gorgeous."

She agreed with him wholeheartedly. "Gorgeous and only yours. Your touch feels so good. I love you."

He paused and looked her in the eye. "All mine."

The promise I made in front of the gods is true, Ivar. I'm yours."

Ivar smiled at her. "I'm tired. Aren't you, love?"

She placed herself on his lap and rolled her hips a bit as she frowned. As she gently pushed his chest to make him lie down, she stated, "I am not tired. My husband just got me all hot and bothered. Do you really expect me to go to sleep now?"

Her push made him blink. Still, he put his hands on her hips, gazing at her breasts while stroking her thighs. "Woah, Freya!" He replied, licking his lips. "You're stunning."

She moved towards his neck and began kissing him. Soon she was kissing his chest. "I already heard that, love." She laughed.

"Someone's pretty eager here.” He teased.

She whispered, kissing his belly, "Thank you for making me. Thanks for your touch, your words..."

A sharp intake of breath accompanied him as he tilted his head back, resting his head on the bed. "Freya... maybe we should not do this... I'm not skilled."

"Neither am I..." She confessed, nibbling on the skin of his abdomen.

His lips curled into a smile. "You are such a she-wolf, aren't you!?" He chuckled, slipping his hands into her hair. "You may not be skilled, but you act bravely."

Freya shrugged. “Often, I watched my brothers and their lovers.”

Ivar cocked his brow and propped himself up with his elbows.

Freya frownd. "What?"

"What did you mean by that?"

“Is it so hard to understand? You never pampered your brother to watch him play around with girls?” Asked Freya, raising her eyebrows.

He felt blush hitting his cheeks. "I actually did..."

She sighed, "This is how I... Learned stuff... I never had anyone explain it to me..."

"Yeah, I understand. I heard filthy stories from my brothers or I saw them in action," he smiled. "I'll even be honest now. My brothers arranged for me to meet Margarethe, one of our thralls. They just took me to this hidden place that they prepared for us. They wanted to make me a man," he chuckled at the memory, but his smile quickly disappeared. "I've always joked that no girl would want me because of these," he pointed at his legs. “I don't think my manhood works as it should... Because, you know…”

Freya listened to him, resting her head gently against his legs. Nodding her head she looked at him. "Did you... Love that girl?"

"No." He replied simply, shaking his head a bit, "But you know, they all had her. I didn't want to make myself look foolish. I wanted to challenge myself. It didn't work."

"You can't really challenge yourself when it comes to love. Maybe that's why it didn't work," She whispered as she gently touched his leg. "How do you feel about me?"

He stared down at her. "Good. Comfortable. Relaxed."

"Maybe it will work this time." She smiled at him.

While humming, Freya slowly undid his pants. "Let your wife work, you just need to relax."

"Honey... No, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to look at them." He replied, shaking all over his body.

Freya hushed him. As she smiled, she pushed his pants enough to release his cock. "I know you don't want me to see your legs, but trust me and let me do this."

His head rolled back as he inhaled deeply. "I don't want to disappoint my beautiful wife."

"You would let me down if you pushed me away tonight." She whispered and wrapped her hand around his member. I was surprised at how hard it became. "Would you look at that?"

As soon as he felt something, he opened his eyes wide and realised that it was her delicate hand wrapped around his manhood. Ivar propped himself up on elbows again, looking at her with wide eyes once again. "Impossible..."

Freya looked up and chuckled as her thumb played with his tip. "You see, love? Maybe you just married a woman who is a goddess in a human disguise." She teased and then licked a long strip from the base to the tip of his cock.

As he gasped loudly, he rolled his head back, almost moaning at the intensity of her touch.

As Freya hummed, she remembered what she saw in the past and tried to imitate it here.

Her lips encircled his tip, sucking it gently.

He undid her braids with his hands slipping into her hair. "Freya." He mumbled quietly, looking up at the ceiling, enjoying the pleasant sensation he was experiencing. "This is impossible... You must be a goddess."

"Maybe I indeed am, who knows, love." She whispered, looking up at him before swallowing his member at once.

"Freya." Ivar whispered in a tiny voice, just like a kitten. "You spin my head round."

While Freya purred around his cock, she continued her work on him.

"Leave it." He whispered. "Please. I want you here. I need you here, by my side."

With a loud pop, she pulled him out of her mouth and smiled, licking her lips. The girl moved up, kissing every inch of his body until she reached his lips.

As he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, he kissed her desperately, pulling her as close as he could. His palms stroked over the soft curves hidden beneath her dress, which hadn't been completely removed yet.

Freya returned the kiss eagerly but soon backed away. He was now fully straddled, and she took her dress off with a sweet smile.

"Oh, my Gods!" Ivar whispered quietly, barely moving his lips as he did so; his hands found their way instantly to her round hips, which he grabbed firmly, enjoying how perfectly they fit in his hands.

Freya giggled and reached up to scratch the skin on his chest with her fingertips. "I feel someone is happy." She claimed.

While he admired her body, he was trying to catch his breath.

She smiled, cupping his cheeks. "Are you alive?" She asked, "Or did I kill my husband on a wedding night?"

"I've never felt so alive." He said, slipping his hand between her thighs.

She teased, "Oh, really? You overall seem a little lifeless."

He cocked his brow. His hand found a sweet, hot spot on her while he murmured, "I am not as skilled as you are."

She reminded him, "I did not do this, just watched." I am not skilled either, she told him.

As his thumb gently rubbed her clitoris, Ivar said, "But your confidence lends you some credibility. Do you like it?"

Freya moaned quietly and bit her lip, nodding her head eagerly.

He cleared his throat, whispering, "I have never been so close to a woman before. You'll have to guide me." Meanwhile, he used his index finger to gently spread her pussy lips and tease her entrance.

She smiled. "Yet... somehow you know where to put your fingers. I am sure you know what to do. Just don't stop yourself, my dear husband."

His other hand caressed the beautiful smoothness of her chest, moving up and down it. Meanwhile, one of his fingers slipped into her wet core, teasing it further.

Then, Freya began slowly riding his fingers, moving her hips as Ivar's hand was caressing her chest.

"So eager, aren't you?" He asked with a raspy voice.

He pulled his fingers out, covering her pussy in her own wetness. Shortly after, he took his manhood and lined it up with her entrance.

"So eager, aren't you, dear husband?” She teased him, using his own words against him.

Freya gently grasped his manhood and slid down it, moaning quietly at the strain. "Fuck..."

His eyes were fixed on her beautiful face covered in blush as he parted his lips.

Freya gasped and bit her lips hard, trying to take in the pain. Slowly, she moved up and down his shaft.

He whispered, "Hey, take it easy," as he scanned the exposed features of her body with a smirk. "You feel so good..."

Despite the pain, Freya moved her hips faster as she whispered, "But I want to please my husband."

As Ivar tightened his grip on her hips, he pressed her harder against his legs, making her unable to move. She tried to buck her hips as he said, "Wait. Wait. It's not about me, it's about us." He told her, cocking his brow. "As much as I would like to satisfy myself, I also want you to feel satisfied. Don't want you to feel pain."

When he pressed her down, Freya whimpered loudly. She could feel him deep inside.

As she looked down at him, she said, "I heard it was always painful, love, for the first time. I promise, it will pass soon. I just need to adjust." Freya assured him.

"I was told that, too." He added.

In order to give her some sensation, he gently rubbed circles on her clitoris. "You're so tight that I can't think straight."

Again, Freya moved up and down his manhood. She let out a soft sigh and smiled at him, feeling her walls gently relax around him. It became easier for her to move. "You are so big..."

Her warmness and wetness around his cock were enjoyed while he traced his hands along her waist. Ivar couldn't take his eyes off her. "I'm yours."

Freya gave him a soft smile, her hands touched his chest. "Look at you... You don't have any problems with your beautiful cock. You just needed the right person." She whispered.

"I needed a goddess, and Gods provided me with one in the human body."

"Yes... Yes!” Freya moaned, moving a bit faster. She could feel herself getting closer to her high. "Oh, my Gods...."

"Wait, love!" He again pulled on her hips a little, pressing her pussy to his crotch. "Let me do it properly. Let me try."

Freya bit her lip hard and nodded. "Of course, love."

She laid comfortably on Ivar's bed after being gently pushed off of him. After he slowly rolled on top of her, he pinned her down with his weight. He kissed her hungrily, helping Freya to wrap her legs around his waist. Her arms were pinned above her head by him after he detached his mouth from hers. Suddenly Ivar caught one of her nipples in his mouth, encircling it in warmth as his tongue flicked across it and then he bit down on it tenderly. Soon, he removed his mouth from Freya's breast and looked at her with lust clouding his eyes. He reached down towards his dick and placed it against her entrance. Ivar entered her roughly.

It now seemed as though Freya was praying, wailing praises for Ivar in a way that resembled a moan. Her fingers ran through his hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Ivar grunted as he continued thrusting into Freya. He slammed into her roughly with his hands gripping her waist. "You're so hot, my beautiful wife." He grunted out.

A smile spread across his face as her nails raked over his back. "I'm going to make everyone within the Great Hall know to whom you belong."

Freya gave him a mischievous smile. "I BELONG TO IVAR THE BONELESS! THE GREATEST VIKING THERE IS!" She moaned as loudly as she could.

"That's my girl." Ivar praised as his eyes grew darker and he wasted no time in pulling her closer to him, smashing his full lips against hers as one of his palms slipped between their connected bodies to rub circles on her clitoris. "Cum for me, Freya." Ivar whispered as his thrusts became sloppy.

Frey smiled against his lips and kissed him deeply again. She could feel her walls tightening around him and soon she whimpered his name loudly, cumming all over his prick.

Freya rumbled with pleasure as Ivar held her tightly. He stiffened and buried his head in her shoulder. Ivar's thrusts became sloppier and he slammed into her three more times before he moaned and groaned loudly in pleasure while he milked her pussy with his warm seed. As he breathed heavily, Ivar whispered, "I love you very much." He held her against him and kissed her neck. Slowly, Ivar began to pull away from her.

Gasping and nuzzling him, she purred out of happiness. "I love you too... And who knows. Maybe soon there will be three of us..." Freya whispered.

He nodded with a smile, settling down by her side, lying comfortably on his back. "You think there is a chance? I was told all my life that a cripple cannot have children."

"They also said you can't fuck or be truly loved." Freya looked at him and giggled. "Just look at the mess you left between my legs."

Looking curiously between her legs, he propped himself on his elbows. "I must say I love this view."

She laughed and nodded. "Oh, I hope you do. It was our first time but it won't be our last."

He smirked proudly. "So you'll want to have sex with me more than once?"

A soft frown appeared on her face as she looked at him. "Why not?" She asked, confused.

"I am a disgusting cripple because of my legs."

"Ivar!" She sighed. "If I hear that again, I promise I will punch you."

As he sat up to find his pants, he joked, "You are threatening a cripple."

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him back down. "Let's just sleep." Freya smiled, pulling the fur to cover both of them.

Smiling at Freya, Ivar nodded. "Good." He let her place her head to his chest as his arm wrapped around her figure.

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peaceisadirtyword · 2 years ago

Text

Brísingamen (Ivar/OFC)

moodboard by @nothingtolosebutweight

Summary: Freya spent her life searching for the kind of love her parents shared. The kind of love that makes them go crazy, the kind that burns in their chests, when they are sure they would rather die than lose each other. And she found it in Kjartan, her future husband and an ambitious man who vows not to marry until he is king. After years of trying and failing to conquer Kattegat, Kjartan seems to accept that he cannot defeat the king of Kattegat in battle, but he still has a plan to sit on the throne, and for that Ivar Ragnarsson must die. And Freya, the loyal, sweet, innocent Freya, who would do anything for him, could be the key to achieve this. Someone that can sneak into Kattegat and reach the king’s chambers in the middle of the night to bury a knife in his chest. But Freya will soon learn that no one should underestimate Ivar the Boneless.

A/N: This is my new fic for the @vikingsbigbang💙 Hope you like it! Thank you to the amazing @nothingtolosebutweight for creating the artwork for this fic, you’re amazing. Check her blog because it’s great❤️ I couldn’t choose just one because I loved all of them.

Check the artwork♡

Read the story on Ao3.

“Shield up!” Ingrid’s yelling only made Freya scoff and roll her eyes. The shieldmaiden she was fighting took advantage of the momentary distraction and her dullen blade hit her leather vest, making Freya lose her balance and end up on the floor, frowning at both women.

“You always forget the defence when you’re fighting” Ingrid looked at her with a stern glance while she got up “You attack and fight well but you must remember to defend yourself too, it’s stupid not to do so” she shook her head, turning to correct the other girl Freya was figthing.

She only threw the sword and the shield to the ground and walked over to where the jar of water and the cups were, feeling her legs tremble when she was walking. Training since before sunrise only made her body ache before lunch, and as she was still half asleep when she started, the first hour was always terrible.

In any case, she wouldn’t even think of attending the training later, Ingrid was always there before her, no matter when she arrived at the training field. Sometimes, Freya wondered whether Ingrid ever slept or ate, she seemed to be always training, constantly with her sword and shield in hand, almost like they were part of her.

That was probably why she was the best shieldmaiden she had ever known.

Freya didn’t even bother to take her shield and sword and just walked away from the training group, ignoring the other women calling her or even Ingrid’s stern voice telling her to go back. She knew she was probably acting childish and it wasn’t even a big deal. Ingrid corrected everyone, but she always did it with a smile and soft words… Except for Freya, whenever she had to talk to her she did it with her lips pressed together, a frown and harsh words.

A part of her always wished to impress Ingrid, to make her smile and nod with pride filling her eyes. But never, not once had she accomplished that, and that was killing her.

Freya entered the Great Hall, still mumbling in rage and not even looking at anyone she walked by. When she reached the main table she drank directly from a pitch that had some fresh water, thirsty, and didn’t stop until a voice interrupted her, finally shaking her out of her spiral of anger and tiredness.

“That was mine”

Kjartan sat on the throne. His grey, cold eyes were fixed on her and his tone was stern, even when the slight curve of his lips gave him away.

“I’m sorry” Freya left the now almost empty pitch back on the table just when one of the thralls rushed to grab it and take it back for a refill “Your sister is driving me insane”

“Yes, she tends to do that” Kjartan chuckled “Is she being too hard on you?”

“When is she not?” she replied, rolling her eyes with a scoff “She talks to me with such a condescending tone it’s driving me crazy”

Freya approached Kjartan. His smirk grew as she got closer.

“Is there any chance that you will let me train with the men?” she pouted, and Kjartan raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t uncommon to have men and women train together, but he insisted on the fact that women didn’t have the same strength as men did, and even if his own sister could defeat half of his men within mere minutes, he still didn’t believe they were equal on the battlefield. That’s why he always used the shieldmaidens for his own guard, and sent the men to battle.

“You know what I think about that” he reached to put a strand of her hair behind her ear. Freya sighed in defeat, closing her eyes when his thumb caressed her cheek softly “Is my sister no rival to you?”

She is, that’s the problem. Freya shook her head and put his hand away, even though she held onto it, intertwining their fingers.

“She’s too hard on me, she hates me” Freya complained but it almost sounded like a whine. Kjartan didn’t stop smiling, her rivalry with his sister amused him to the point of entertaining that animosity for his own enjoyment. Sometimes it looked like their true intention while fighting was to catch his attention, and if there was anything Kjartan loved was being the centre of attention.

“She wants you to be strong enough to be queen by my side” he shrugged “But ignore her, when you’re my queen you will have all the protection you need and won’t need to know how to fight” he said, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“But I want to learn” she whined again and Kjartan rolled his eyes with a small smirk “Besides, when you finally make me your queen I shall be the finest shieldmaiden on Midgard”

“That’s ambitious, my love” he chuckled again “You know what I think, ambition is for men, the ambition corrupts women’s thoughts and poison them, you women are soft and have a pure heart, you don’t need ambition” he said softly, making her raise her eyebrow “Leave the ambition for me”

Scoffing, Freya moved around the table to pick up the pitcher again, Kjartan looked at her while she drank again. When she was done she turned around to look at him again, and there was a hint of reproach when she opened her mouth again.

“For being such an ambitious man, you move forward very slowly in your plan of becoming king” Freya tilted her head “And marrying me”

Kjartan looked angry for a second, but then his expression calmed down so quickly Freya thought she had imagined it.

“You know what I think, my love” he repeated. Kjartan always repeated that phrase almost like it was meant to make people eager to please him, to agree with him “I swore over my sacred ring not to marry you until I’m king, and until I’ve avenged my family and freed the people that suffer under their leader’s tyranny” he approached her. Freya stood in her place, with her head high and her eyes fixed on his. She knew that oath, he had repeated it to her every single day since he kissed her for the first time. It didn’t make it any easier “When I accomplish that, I know the Gods will see me as the rightful leader”

“You’ve tried to conquer Kattegat already” she said “And you failed, don’t you think that if the Gods wanted you to succeed they would have granted you the victory already?” she touched his face softly, a small, kind smile on her lips “I don’t want to marry you for your power, your position or for being a favourite of the Gods, I want to marry you because I love you” she muttered, reaching to caress his hair “And I want to wake up with you, carry your children and be by your side every single day for the rest of my life”

Kjartan smiled then, and it looked like a genuine smile on Freya’s eyes.

“Don’t you wish to free the people of Kattegat? Don’t you wish to make the Ragnarssons pay for everything they’ve done to my family and to the people?”

“Yes, but…”

“People’s freedom and wellbeing is more important than a woman’s desires and love” he said sternly “It’s selfish to think otherwise, Freya, remember that” he scolded her softly. When she looked down, disappointed, he made her look at him again with his fingers on her chin.

“You were touched by Freyja” he smiled then “Our goddess of love, battle and death blessed you and crafted you for me, I know I would be insulting her if I married you before winning that battle”

Kjartan’s eyes fixed on hers then. There were unique eyes everywhere in Scandinavia, eyes green like the emeralds the dwarfs crafted in Svartalfheim, blue like the sea that both rewarded and punished whoever was brave enough to adventure in it, brown like the earth the Gods blessed every year to give them food or the leaves that fell from the trees when summer ended. Freya’s eyes were still different, and it was that unique colour that resembled the amber with which the four dwarves crafted the beautiful necklace that rested around the goddess Freyja’s neck.

“I’m sure she would feel more insulted if you rejected her gift” she whispered, her eyes widened in a silent plea.

Kjartan leant in, and his lips almost brushed hers when he whispered:

“First, Ivar the Boneless, king of Kattegat, must die” Freya nodded slowly, closing her eyes and admitting the defeat once again “And you must kill him”

______________________________________________

Ivar almost groaned in desperation when the next couple of farmers stepped forward. Another complaint about lands, property and rights, the most boring thing in the world, which made him almost give up his throne and crown to the first idiot that walked by more than once. Usually, it was his older brother Ubbe who dealt with those complaints “at the end of the day, you’re one of them, aren’t you? You understand them better than I do” he had said, with widened eyes and a small smile, feigning innocence and referring to the comfy lifestyle he had chosen in a farm on the outskirts of Kattegat with his wife and children. Ubbe had agreed, but still insisted that he listened to some of them “the farmers need to see you care for them too, it’s your duty”.

Even though he’d rather jump off a cliff than listen to another two men argue because some dog ate one of the chickens.

Ivar tried his best to listen to them while they bickered, fighting the urge of closing his eyelids that now felt heavier than ever. He hadn’t slept well that night, the summer was coming to an end and the nights got colder and colder. He already dreaded the dark winter that would make his legs cold and achy for days no matter how many furs he piled over his body at night.

Luckily, none of the men that came to him that day concerning their farms and rights had the real will to fight their neighbours, so their intervention was short and soon the Great Hall was empty again, and Ivar found himself sitting at the table, with a well deserved ale and the opportunity to close his eyes for a while.

Well, not a long while because his brothers wouldn’t shut their mouths.

“I’ve been hearing things, Ivar” Ubbe couldn’t care less for his brother’s wishes to sleep, even if he was also the king “People wonder why the throne next to you is still empty”

“What a subtle way of implying I should have sex, Ubbe” he sighed tiredly and reached for the ale again.

“He’s right, though” Hvitserk had his feet up on the table and ate some chicken he had stolen from the kitchen as soon as he was back from training “You need a queen, Ivar”

“The weight of the crown is too heavy for only one pair of shoulders, brother” Ubbe smiled softly.

“I had a queen already” he clenched his jaw “Is that not enough?”

“Freydis is dead” said Hvitserk, making Ivar flinch “You know that better than anyone, you had time to mourn, now you must move on and find a woman, Ivar, you need heirs”

“I have you” he shrugged.

“Without heirs your claim is weakened” Hvitserk ignored him. He had seen enough of what power did to people, to his father and to his brother and had no desire of being heir of anything “And you know that”

“I am a son of Ragnar”

“Ragnar is not here anymore, Ivar” Ubbe sighed “And everyday more and more people set their eyes on Kattegat, wishing to conquer it, the people of Kattegat are restless, they fear the uncertainty that comes with instability and it’s your duty as their ruler to ease their minds” he reached to put a hand on his shoulder “Say you want a wife, let the Earls and Kings bring their daughters and choose the one you like the most, marry, have a child or two, and then you can rule in peace knowing your claim is strong”

“I can’t have children, Ubbe” he gripped his cup so tight Hvitserk feared he would break it.

“Try” his brother shook his head “If you try and you can’t, we’ll see what we can do but in the meantime… Do your part, Ivar”

Ivar reached for the ale again, only to realise there was nothing left inside the pitcher with a groan.

“Shouldn’t I marry someone that gives me political advantage? The daughter of another king?” he rolled his eyes “So I can have some benefit out of it”

“You marry whoever you want, but there’s only one person that has more power than you around here and that’s Harald Finehair… He only has a son, I don’t think you’re into that, brother”

Ivar shrugged, ignoring Hvitserk’s giggle.

“Try me”

“In any case, before considering marrying little Halfdan, you should maybe meet some of the Earls’ daughters”

“I’m sure they are thrilled to meet the crippled king” he scoffed.

“Ivar…” Ubbe sighed.

“Fine” he raised his voice, already tired of the conversation “Call them, tell them to come here and I will meet them, I have nothing better to do until next spring, anyway” he rolled his eyes “Now, where are those fucking thralls when you need them?”

____________________________________________

“Kjartan, I don’t think…”

“This morning you told me you wanted to marry me, have you changed your mind since then?” he frowned, and Freya was startled by the disappointment in his eyes.

“No, I…”

“Then do as I ask” he grabbed both her hands, sighing “Let’s end this for once and be happy”

She hesitated then, ever since those words had left his mouth, she had refused. Kill Ivar the Boneless? The son of Ragnar, the man that had defeated countless men, who was feared by all of Scandinavia and England? Many men, stronger and cleverer than her, had tried and failed before.

“But I can’t do it” Freya almost sobbed then, widening her eyes “I can’t… Kill Ivar, he’s the king, he will have guards and he won’t let me near him”

“That’s why you need to gain his trust” Kjartan raised his eyebrow “You’re a great shieldmaiden, go to Kattegat and ask to be part of his personal guard, get closer to him, make him trust you and when he doesn’t expect it, you bury that dagger in his heart”

Freya’s eyes looked at the dagger Kjartan had left on the wooden table. It was a fine weapon, with runes engraved on the blade, and it was sharp and light. A murderer’s weapon.

“Ivar Ragnarsson is one of the smartest people alive” she said, lowering her voice “He will discover me”

“Then you have to be smarter” Kjartan insisted “I’ve fought him many times, and I never was able to win, I can’t win like that, but if you kill him, I can take Kattegat next spring, and I will be king” his expression softened, and Freya sighed knowing what came after “And you will be my queen”

“The assassin queen” she muttered, her heart still pounding against her ribcage when she thought about it “Why not send one of your men?”

“Because no one would ever suspect you” he chuckled, almost like it was something obvious but that only he saw “You look innocent”

“Because I’m a woman? Why not send Ingrid then? She’s your best fighter”

“My sister is a good fighter, yes, but you’re better with people” Kjartan caressed her cheek with his thumb “People trust you, and you’re a good fighter too”

The tears threatened to fall down Freya’s cheeks when she gulped loudly, trying to hide the absolute fear that shook her.

“You hate the Ragnarssons too, right? They killed my brother” he frowned “They have killed so many people, and so many are suffering under their rule… And you wouldn’t do all the work, I will have to kill Hvitserk and Ubbe afterwards, they’re the difficult ones… Ivar is just a cripple, Freya” he smiled shaking his head “A violent one, but still a cripple, he’s no real threat, my love”

She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling sick and looking down at the table where he had left the dagger she was supposed to take with her. The dagger that was supposed to end through Ivar the Boneless’ heart. And then she tried to imagine her life as queen next to Kjartan, with small children running around, with Ingrid finally being forced to bow respectfully to her, being able to share a bed with the man she loved without being judged and stared at the morning after, growing old with him.

But, for some reason, or maybe because the Gods refused to show her, she couldn’t imagine it. It almost seemed like something that was too far away to even start to imagine it.

“So?” Kjartan’s voice startled her, and she raised her head to meet his eager eyes again.

Freya didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to go far away without him for the Gods know how much time. She didn’t want to die away from him.

“I will do it” she whispered, surprising herself as her mouth spoke the words before she could even think of them “I’ll kill Ivar the Boneless… For you”

“I knew you would” Kjartan finally leant in to kiss her lips softly “I knew you wouldn’t let me down”

#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikingsbigbangwinter22 #vikings #vikings imagine #read on ao3 #original female character #ivar imagine

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serasvictoria · 3 years ago

Text

@mercurygray was doing her Blind Dates event again this year and since I had so much fun doing it last year, I knew that I had to write something for it again. I used a random name generator and got the name Alexandra Wolff. So here’s my entry that I wrote for the Vikings fandom (which I’ve started camping out in since doing the event last year).

The only downside is that this was supposed to be nothing more than a short intro to introduce an unknown OC and to establish her as the leading character. But by the end of it, I had a full blown fic on my hands for some reason. I’m so sorry, Merc 😅

Title: Cheated Hearts

Pairing: Ivar Lothbrok/Original Female Character

Word Count: 4700 😅

Summary: Alexandra Wolff hates Valentine’s Day with a passion and a messy run-in with a stranger certainly doesn’t make her feel otherwise...

All images from Pinterest

Tagging @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @ritual-unions-gotme @vikingstrash @quantumlocked310 @adrille88 @actual-queen-of-hell @youbloodymadgenius @punkrocknpearls @zuxiezendler @whenimaunicorn @grimeundglow @istorkyou @underragingwaves

*****

If she had to look at another teddy bear with a tiny red sweater that had “I love you beary much” written on it, she was going to scream.

She would. Right in the middle of the goddamn store. Right in front of all the customers that flocked to the counter with all kinds of Valentine’s Day themed shit with the biggest smiles plastered all over their dumb faces.

“This shit, it’s all a lie. Commercial bullshit, all designed to make you spend money for one perfect evening. Then a month, or a year from now if you’re lucky, that same person will tear your heart out of your chest and then they’ll eat it right in front of you making it the last thing you see before you die.”

That’s what she desperately wanted to say. Maybe it would break the spell for one of these saps at least.

Instead, all that Alexandra did was produce her best plastic smile and then told the customer to have a great day. She needed this dumb job to pay the bills, she couldn’t afford to get fired. Not again.

At least the day was almost at an end.

She couldn’t wait to stop at Starbucks on the way home so she could get a frappuccino. Her one indulgence of the day. The rest of the evening would consist of nothing more than curling up on the couch with some leftover mac and cheese while watching Fatal Attraction.

It’s not like she had always been this bitter. From the time that she was old enough to even realise what Valentine’s Day was, she would eagerly wait for the mailman, but apart from two cards from her best friend at the time, there had never been a card from a secret admirer to declare his undying love for her.

Sure, she’d had boyfriends during Valentine’s Day, but none of the guys that she dated had been considerate enough to buy her something. One of them realised halfway through the day what day it was and had opted for a handwritten note with “roses are red” scribbled on it. That had been sweet at least, but afterwards she found out that he’d written similar notes to at least three other girls in school.

That had not been a good day.

Standing in line at Starbucks and seeing a couple of loved up couples in the place made her remember the reason why she had even started to hate this day at all.

Her last boyfriend, he who shall not be named, had been pretty perfect at first. Though she might just have been viewing him through a pair of very rose tinted glasses all along. He had been the one that kept going on about how commercial Valentine’s Day was, even going as far as implying that if it hadn’t been that he would have bought her something.

No, the fact that corporations were telling him that he had to buy his girlfriend something on this specific day, that’s what was the problem.

It wasn’t like he ever bought her anything on his own.

Oh no, wait. He bought her a book once, some dumb romance novel from a writer that she’d never even heard of, and then he actually told her, “You like to read, right?” So it wasn’t like that had been a particularly thoughtful gift. Didn’t help that he mentioned that he’d found it in a bargain bin either.

Yep. Really lucked out with that douchebag.

Her mind had been filled with all the other shitty things her ex had pulled when she walked out of Starbucks and turned the corner. Didn’t help that she hadn’t been looking where she had been going at all.

Nor had the hard body that she suddenly found herself colliding with.

Her caramel frappuccino fell from her hand, landing on the floor with a great big smack, sending the contents flying all over her old white sneakers and white trousers. It also stained the light grey trousers and leather shoes of the guy in front of her.

Usually she’d apologise profusely, but Alexandra’s day had been so shitty that her first reaction wasn’t anything like it normally would be.

“Son of a bitch! Well, that’s just great!”

It wasn’t until she looked up that the rest of her words left her completely. For the blue eyes that were looking straight back at her were the most beautiful eyes that she’d ever seen. There was a whole storm raging inside them and it was sadly directed straight at her, but it did nothing to deter their beauty.

“Are you done?” The anger was dripping from his voice, obviously, but it took her aback nonetheless. “You fucking ruined my trousers.”

“Maybe if you’d been looking where you were going…”

“Me? You’re the one that wasn’t looking!” She’d been so focused on his angelic features, which she’d sadly angered, that she hadn’t even noticed that he had been leaning to the side slightly, one shoulder slanted downward. “It’s not like I could have gotten out of the way.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you could have…“

Her eyes moved downward (over the wide expanse of his chest, which had her clenching her thighs reflexively), and down his legs that she noticed the outline of something underneath the wet fabric that was clinging to them. It was also at that moment that Alexandra noticed the cane.

“Oh.”

She’d walked straight into someone with a leg injury. As if this day couldn't get any worse. She could have seriously injured this guy if she'd walked into him with enough speed and he had taken a fall. Thankfully, all that she had done was soil his trousers.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want me to say!”

“That you’re sorry? That you'll pay for my dry cleaning bill?”

“Excuse me?” She looked down at his trousers again, they didn’t look particularly special to her. The shoes, now they obviously were expensive, but the trousers? “You can put your Gap trousers in a washing machine. I’m not paying for that.”

“Gap?!” His voice went up a few octaves, obviously insulted that she had implied that his trousers looked cheap. “They’re Armani.”

“Well, congratulations. Good for you,” she bit back, sarcasm lacing her voice now. “I’m still not paying for that. Or is Armani so special that it’ll disintegrate in a washing machine?”

"The fabric needs to be handled with care," he replied with a practised sneer. "Something that you obviously wouldn't know with your bargain bin clothing."

Alexandra's nostrils flared in anger. Sure, her clothes weren't that expensive, and yes, the trousers had been on discount, but that was uncalled for. It wasn't like everybody could drop what she considered to be a small fortune on a pair of trousers.

Her eyes fell on a half full cup on a table, filled with some unidentifiable brown sludge, coffee from the looks of it, and before her brain had the time to register what she was doing, she picked it up. At least she had the common sense to take a step back first before chucking the contents all over his trousers and shoes. There was no need to get herself more dirty than she already was.

"What the fuck!"

Very calmly, Alexandra reached into her bag, dug out her wallet, grabbed a banknote and shoved it against his chest. "Here." She produced another one of those massive plastic smiles, the millionth one of the day. "I'll gladly pay to have that dry cleaned, asshole."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish, obviously trying to come up with a response and failing miserably, but she wasn't going to stand around and let him hurl more abuse at her. With the smile still on her face, she walked around him without saying another word and walked back home without a care in the world.

Despite the fact that her trousers were filthy and that her socks and shoes were wet, she barely noticed it. That encounter had left her on a high of epic proportions. The perfect way to unload after a long and exhausting day.

It wouldn't be until much later, when she was sitting on her couch and crying into her ice cream over the sad state of her love life, not even Glenn Close going after Michael Douglas with a knife able to lift her spirits, that she felt horrified over her earlier actions. This wasn't what she was like and knowing that she'd even let her emotions get to her like that… All because everything leading up to Valentine's Day pissed her off to no end.

There was little that she could do about it now though, because it wasn't as if she'd ever see the mystery man again.

*****

Another day, another day closer to Valentine's Day.

There were only a couple of days left and then all this sugary sweet madness would be over.

Alexandra wasn't sure if she could handle any more of this nonsense. Not when her heart had been torn out almost a year ago to the day now, which was why she had come to loathe this day so much to begin with. Seeing hearts all over the place, the myriad of cards with sickly sweet words, signs everywhere urging people to buy even more shit for their sweethearts…

She was pulled out of her thoughts when someone placed a basket on the counter. Peeking inside, she groaned when she saw the contents. She looked up, seconds away from greeting the customer with her customary plastic smile…

"Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh god." Her face fell when she looked at the man in front of the counter, the same guy that she had thrown drinks on yesterday, once accidentally and then deliberately the second time. "Good afternoon, sir," she said through gritted teeth. "How can I help you?"

"This is the gift wrapping counter, isn't it?"

"As you can see." She pointed at the little sign next to her. "Can I see your receipt please?"

It was practically shoved in her face. Fine. She guessed she had that one coming after what she'd done yesterday.

Glancing in the basket once more, she rolled her eyes. How many things were even in there anyway? Must have been six different things. Since he didn't look like the type of guy that would lavish just one girl with such attention, Alexandra immediately assumed that it must have been for several different ladies.

"What was that for?"

"Hm?" She barely looked up from the first item that she had fished out of the basket, a snowglobe with a bear holding a card with a heart inside it. "I didn't do anything."

"You rolled your eyes." She shook her head and wrapped up the present. "Why?"

"No reason," she remarked with a voice completely devoid of emotion. "You bought a lot of stuff."

"Oh, so that's why." He leaned over the counter to look at what she was doing and right when she'd been about to move the first present to the side to start working on the next one, he tapped on the paper. "Not like that. Do it… neater."

"I could always give you some paper so you can do it yourself, you know?"

"And why would I want to do that?" Her growing annoyance only made his wicked grin grow. "This is a nice service that this store offers so I'm going to use it."

The aim of the game was obviously to make her suffer, she had realised that much, and she needed this job. It wasn't like she could refuse to help him, because she just knew that he'd complain to management for the sheer enjoyment of it.

So she gritted her teeth once more, kept her head down and helped the Prince of Darkness to the best of her abilities. He made her redo the wrapping of at least three other presents, but when he noticed that he wasn't getting a rise out of her like he managed to get yesterday, he seemed to drop the matter entirely.

When she finally put the last of the items in a paper bag, she handed it over to him, without the big smile this time, because she had ceased giving a shit, and said, "Have a very pleasant day, sir."

"I'm sure I will. Especially now," he said with a smug smile. She longed to wipe it off of his face, but she could hardly reach over the counter and actually do it. The muscles in her jaw clenched and there was a brief flash of some indescribable emotion on his face, making him pause for a few seconds before finally turning away. "Until next time."

Alexandra watched him hobble out of the store and she hoped to god that this didn't mean that he'd be visiting regularly with the aim of torturing her some more in the future.

*****

"It'll be fun." Sigrid held on to her hand, gripping it like a vice. "You'll see."

"It won't be. I'll be miserable all night."

"You are not going to spend the rest of the evening sitting around at home and being even more miserable. This way you can be drunk and miserable." Before she could open her mouth, Sigrid had turned around and hugged her tightly. "No more thinking about that douchebag, okay?"

"I can't just-" Her friend's arms were so tight around her that it made her wonder if this was what it was like if a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around your body and was busy squeezing the life out of you. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are." When Sigrid pulled away, she flicked Alexandra in the middle of her forehead. "You wouldn't even reply to my texts the last couple of days. You need this."

"I need vodka shots?" She chuckled then, reminded of how Sigrid was practically trying to bang down her door earlier as she threatened to stand there all night if she had to. "Alcohol doesn't solve every problem."

"It will this time." Sigrid flashed her a smile and started tugging her along to the bar again. "Trust me!"

They reached their destination of the evening shortly after and Alexandra was pulled along to an empty table in the corner. Sigrid disappeared to the bar and came back with the first round of shots later.

The next twenty minutes were spent shit talking her former boyfriend and though Alexandra longed to dismiss men altogether, she knew that Sigrid had started dating a new guy about a month ago, so she focused all her negativity solely on her piece of shit ex.

Only one more day to go and then it would be exactly one year-

"Please don't hate me."

Sigrid got up and smoothed out her skirt. Alexandra frowned, not entirely sure why her friend even said that at all. Craning her neck, she saw Sigrid disappear into the crowd and approach a guy who she promptly embraced. And then kissed.

Oh fuck.

The happy couple approached the table and it wasn't until she could see another guy walking right behind them, that she realised that she'd been set up. This wasn't just a drinking session between friends, this was a double date.

"Alex." Sigrid's smile was unbelievably sweet, even when she was being levelled by Alexandra's angry stare. "I want to introduce you to someone."

"Hi." Her new beau seemed unperturbed by the fact that she wasn't hiding the fact that she was incredibly pissed off. "I'm Ubbe." He held his hand out to her which she took, not wanting to be too rude. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Great," she replied with a flat voice. "I'm Alex. Sigrid's clueless friend."

Sigrid didn't look too pleased with her right now, but she didn't care. She was beyond livid at the moment and she would be sure to let her friend know all about it later. Ubbe merely laughed in reply and when he stepped to the side to reveal the guy behind him, Alexandra nearly dislocated her jaw.

"No." She got up and held her hands up. "Nope. Not happening."

"So we meet again.” The guy behind him, or her nemesis as she now liked to call him, pulled a chair back and sat down next to the one that she had vacated. “Not that I was expecting to meet like this, but I’ll take it.”

“Ivar.” When Ubbe said the guy’s name, it sounded like he had uttered it in that way quite often, instantly giving the impression that he had scolded him before. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Like hell you did!” Alexandra pressed her index finger into his chest until he focused those stunning blue eyes on her again. “You are the single most unpleasant person that I have ever met in my entire life.”

“Need I remind you that you threw coffee on me. Twice.”

“Oh fuck. That was you?” Ubbe sounded impressed now, though she wasn’t entirely sure why he would be impressed that she’d almost assaulted his brother. “I apologise for my baby brother,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. “I don’t even want to know what kind of shit he pulled for you to do that.”

“Hey!”

“I know you, Ivar.” Whatever else Ivar was going to say, he was effectively silenced by his brother’s angry stare. “Why don’t I buy the next round, huh?” He pulled Sigrid to the side and spoke to her in a hushed voice. Ivar, meanwhile, was sitting in his chair with his arms folded, looking every inch the petulant child. “I’ll be right back.”

“Alex.” Sigrid tugged on her sleeve to stop her from trying to stare a hole right through Ivar’s chest. “Toilet break.” Alexandra wanted to say something in reply, about how she was leaving, but Sigrid held a finger up to let her know that she wasn’t allowed to say anything. “Now, Alexandra!”

Since Sigrid hardly ever used her full name when addressing her, it was enough to get her to follow her friend meekly.

“Okay, so what’s the problem here?” Sigrid asked as soon as they got to the ladies room.

“That guy is an asshole!”

“So this is the coffee guy, right?” She’d already told Sigrid all about it on the way to the bar of course, and also about what had happened when he came to the store yesterday. Alexandra nodded. “Well, that’s just great.”

“Why‘d you even trick me like this?” Now it was Alexandra’s turn to talk. “You know I don’t like double dates, not after the last disaster.”

“Yeah, I know, but if I’d told you that I’d invited Ubbe and that he was going to bring his brother, you wouldn’t have come.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t have!”

“I just didn’t want you to spend all night wallowing in your own misery, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to-“

“You were. Don’t lie.” No reply came, because Sigrid was able to see straight through her bullshit. “So just hang out for a bit, have a couple of drinks. Not like you have to get off with Ubbe's brother, right?"

"I wasn't planning on it so don't worry about that."

"He sure is cute though."

"His personality isn't," Alexandra replied. "Trust me on that one."

When they rejoined the two guys, Ubbe had gotten the drinks and was talking to Ivar in a hushed voice. Their talk ended abruptly at their arrival and Alexandra sat down in her seat once more. She glanced at Ivar, his expression unreadable. His brother kept grinning at her though and she wasn’t entirely sure why that was happening, but she shook it off.

The conversation flowed easily. Ubbe was a genuinely nice guy and it was plain to see that Sigrid was head over heels in love with him. He displayed a similar level of affection to her, which was nice to see.

Ivar, for his part, kept relatively quiet. Alexandra noticed that he would look at her out of the corner of his eye occasionally, when he thought that she didn’t notice, and she kept waiting for an apology to come, but he never offered one up.

Why he was even here at all was something that she wondered a few times. With all the gifts that he bought at the store, one would be inclined to think that he was too busy to spend the evening before Valentine’s Day in a bar, tagging along with his brother on a double date. Ivar didn’t appear to be getting any messages from his mystery women either. He only glanced at his phone once, only to put it back in his pocket with a slight frown.

But why the hell did she even care anyway? What he did in his spare time was of no concern for her at all. If he kept his foul mood under lock and key, he was probably quite pleasant to be around. Ivar was easy on the eye after all. There was no denying that.

Still, it was nothing that she should even be thinking about. It didn’t matter.

It wasn’t until they had been left to their own devices, with Sigrid and Ubbe a little bit too occupied with each other, in the process of sucking each other’s faces off, that Ivar finally found the courage to talk to her.

“My mother.”

Alexandra looked up and straight into those eyes that had no right being that blue.

“Excuse me?”

“My mother,” Ivar repeated his words. “The stuff I bought yesterday. It was for my mother.”

“As if I’d believe that!”

Ivar pulled his mobile out of his pocket and pulled up a picture before handing her his phone. “Look,” he said simply.

Looking down at the screen, she found herself staring at a picture of an older woman, with a face like she had been a supermodel in a former life, with that hideous pink sweater with the red hearts on it that Ivar had bought yesterday. In her arms were all the other things that he had bought, the big pink bunny plushie right in the middle. It looked like she was in tears from laughing too much and Alexandra couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“That’s my mother,” he repeated one final time before taking the phone from her, his fingers brushing against her hand gently. “I do that every year. Buy her hideous stuff like that for Valentine’s Day just to make her laugh.”

“That’s so sweet,” she blurted out and she instantly cursed herself for even admitting that out loud. The self satisfied smirk on his face made her cringe. A little. “But why?”

“So she won’t be reminded of my father.” He sighed when he saw her questioning look. “He disappeared. Years ago now. We think he’s in England, but we’re not sure. No one’s spoken to him in years.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I know. Their marriage wasn’t great, but we never thought that he’d just leave like that.” There was a deep overwhelming urge to reach out and grab his hand, but she fought it. “I’ve been doing that ever since, because she deserves the attention.”

“That’s a really lovely thing to do.” The urge won out in the end and while she did not grab his hand as intended, she did at least pat the back of it and then let it rest there. It was obvious that he really loved his mother. “Very sweet.”

“So I recognise the pain, you know.” Alexandra frowned at that, not knowing what he meant with those words initially. “In you, I mean.”

“Oh.” She looked down at his hand and how he had turned his own hand upwards to grab hers. “But I’m not… it isn’t…”

“It’s okay.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Whoever he was, he’s obviously an asshole.”

“Thank you.” Her breathing stuttered, almost choking when he said that. She got up from her seat so quickly that she knocked her chair over. “I-I think I need some air.”

Not thinking of grabbing her coat, she headed straight out into the street and the first thing that hit her was the cold air. There were a few seconds where she contemplated heading back in again, but decided that maybe the difference in temperature would help and clear her head.

When the door opened again and Ivar hobbled out into the street with her coat in his free hand, she almost started crying there and then. Instead, she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes, to stop any potential tears from falling at all.

“You forgot this,” he held it out to her and she put it on quickly. “Want me to stay?”

“It’s a free country,” she said with a nervous laugh, but when he didn’t respond she added a quick, “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

The silence between them afterwards was pleasant, for want of a better word. Ivar simply stood next to her, leaning against the wall like she was doing. She swore that she almost saw his lips move from the corner of his eye a couple of times, but he must have been as much at a loss as Alexandra was.

Waiting for the questions made her nervous and almost made her blurt out a hasty apology herself, but the words didn't form. It would be too difficult to explain away after all.

For where does one start this sad sob story? The one where she was happy in a relationship, oblivious, but happy, only to find out about her then boyfriend’s betrayal by accidentally walking in on him having sex with someone that she had considered a friend?

It was such a fucking cliche too, like something straight out of the movies, but at least Alexandra could boast that her first reaction to seeing this hadn’t been to run off whilst crying. No, her first instinct had been to grab some hideous ceramic that his mother had gifted them, which he had insisted be placed in the bedroom so she was forced to look at it every morning that she woke up, and she had lobbed it straight at the couple.

It had shattered right on her back, because she hadn’t even bothered getting off of him, and then she’d screamed bloody murder at Alexandra, who had very calmly stood in the doorway and had told both of them to get the fuck out her house. The exact same level of calmness that she had displayed when she had first met Ivar and had thrown that second drink on him.

How does someone even start a story like that? She’d only start rambling incoherently and then he’d obviously be so put off by this display that he’d never want to see her again. And she kinda did want to see him again, didn’t she?

Christ. She was royally fucked.

“So…” She finally opened her mouth, opting instead to blurt out some hasty apology even if she had no idea what to say. “The thing is…”

Ivar had turned to her at the exact same moment that she had, but instead of listening to her lame ass excuse, his free hand moved to the back of her head and he dipped his head down to close the distance, their lips finally meeting.

The kiss was gentle and soft, his lips moving against hers slowly. She kissed him back, of course she did, how could she not. It was slow and sweet, no pressure, but with a hint of more if she so desired. When he broke away, she chased after him, giving him a final quick peck before all contact was broken.

His smile was almost as gentle as the kiss and then he said, “I don’t have to know.” She didn’t know what to say to that, having been successfully stunned into silence. Instead she found herself looking down at the hand that he was offering her now. “You want to come back inside?”

Alexandra took it.

#blind dates prompt #blind dates oc fest #vikings #vikings au #ivar lothbrok #original female character #ivar x ofc #mar writes #mar moodboards #blind dates 22

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conaionaru · 4 years ago

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Honor and Blood (IVAR THE BONELESS)

Sound of war

Synopsis: Vanya comes to a realisation and challages Lagertha (again), while the Ragnarssons make plan for revenge.

Warnings: theorizing, poisons, badass Vanya, mentions of violence

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @buckysjuicyplums @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff @xvxcarolinexvx @justbecausewecan @lovemesomevesey

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

"I love your father with all my heart, Aros," Vanya whispered to the young Ivarsson in her arms. The toddler giggled at her tired tone and drolled over his fist. "But he can be tiring at times."

Aros giggled once more as his mother marched away from the hut where Sigurd and Ivar were fighting once again. The Ragnarssons were getting stir crazy, and if they don't stop, she might just go grey. What a joke that would be? Grey before twenty.

"I could hit them over the head. Knock them out and enjoy the quiet." Hoenir's gruff voice spoke from behind her as he grumpily glared at the ground. The princes fights keep interrupting him in his much-needed naps to gain back strength.

Vanya snorted and looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't tempt me, Hoenir." The tall Seer chuckled at her halfhearted response.

The plan for today was pretty easy. Gather resources and give them to the people. "Lagertha might see as a threat."

"She sees threats everywhere. I am helping hard-working people in a way that I am more skilled in. I never held a shovel."

"What do you royals do the whole day?"

Vanya smirked and looked at him innocently. "Drink and gossip, of course. Sometimes people get poisoned at dinner."

Hoenir shook his head and looked down at the smaller female. It was cowardly to hide behind poison, especially for a man. Poisons and herbs were woman's work. Speaking of... "Do you know how to poison someone?"

The ginger shook her head and fixed her hold on the giggling toddler. "I would never. It's not a pretty sight to see. I was taught how to do it, but..."

She let the words hang in the air. Not every poison was messy; some were more subtle and untraceable. Sometimes it looked like the person died in their sleep. Like Osmond did... Vanya froze in her step at the realization.

Osmond died after suffering for a long time. Some poisons can have the same effect... But who would do that? Mother? Silas? No, he wouldn't stoop so low. Waiting was more of his thing; without Stithulf, he wouldn't have even gone against Vanya.

But Siflæd was a cunning and ambitious woman. And the years she spent neglected by Osmond made her bolder. After he died, she was allowed to be somewhat happy. In the end, she got everything she wanted from his death. Expect a good new king. Instead, she got Silas.

But would she go that far and poison her own husband? After all, Siflead was schooled in poisons just like Vanya was...

"Are you alright?" Hoenir asked once again, shaking Vanya from her spiral.

She shook her head and smiled at the Seer. "Yeah... I just got lost in my thoughts. Let's got find Brynja and the thralls. We've got work to do."

Vanya walked among the people digging trenches, distributing food from a wooden basket. Hoenir and Brynja walked behind her, the older redhead holding Aros in her arms. Her red curls made him squeal in delight as he tugged at them, to Brynja's great displeasure.

"Here, have some bread." She smiled at the villager who took the loaf with a smile and split it with the woman digging next to him. She was pregnant and looked exhausted. "Hallr!"

The male thrall walked up next to her, ready to do as she asked. "Dig in the woman's place or a while. She looks like she is in desperate need of a break.

"No, Princess!"

"Nonsense! You are pregnant. The baby will thank you." She smiled and watched the man help her sit down to regain some strength, Hallr digging in her place.

Vanya continued, that's till she saw Ubbe in front of her. He was talking to Lagertha. The redhead carried on handing out bread and water till she reached the new Queen that watched Ubbe with hard eyes. Astrid and Torvi stiffened when they saw Hoenir approach behind her.

"Vanya." Lagertha smiled, making the girl's skin crawl. The fake niceness made her wary of the shieldmaiden.

"Bread and water to help you all in your efforts to protect Kattegat." Vanya ignored the greeting and handed her the bread.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Vanya. No wonder I only heard good things about you. It was hard to believe when we got off on the wrong foot."

Vanya laughed the jab off and shook her head, the smile on her lips fake and bittersweet. "I heard great things about you once upon a time too. No matter what kind of person you are, this is a good idea. The walls, I mean."

Lagertha smiled proudly, her back straightening at the praise. "It is nice, we agree. I wish we could better our relationship. If you need help with your son." Her blue eyes trailed to the happy toddler in the back. "I would be happy to give you advice."

Vanya smiled broadly at the Queen, putting her at ease for a moment or two. "I can assure you I learned a lot from Aslaug." The smile turned sour as she glared at Lagertha. "Before you murdered her in cold blood."

Vanya turned on her heel and slammed the wooden basket against Ubbe's chest. "I suppose you are done with her too. Come." She marched off, leaving the three shieldmaidens behind. Torvi tried to stop her and frowned.

"Vanya, please."

The princess shook her head and motioned towards Hoenir, who already had his sword ready. "I hope Asa and Hali are alright and healthy." With that, she marched off.

After a nice relaxing bath, Vanya planned to visit Ivar in the forge and spend some time with him while Aros slept. Hoenir, of course, followed her around like a tall, brooding shadow.

One would think that Vanya would have gotten used to the brother's bickering and fights over the year of marriage. What wishful thinking that was.

Ivar glared at Sigurd; his axe stopped mid hack by the blacksmith. "What in Odin's name are you two doing?!" She hissed, drawing the axe from her husband's hands.

"Talking," Ivar replied coldly, watching his wife frown at him in dissapointment. And here, she thought she would be the only one to commit fratricide. At this rate, there would be only four Ragnarssons.

"Whoever would have thought that you two were brothers?" The blacksmith's words snapped the brothers from their trance. Sigurd marched off while Ivar sat there brooding and sulking at the same time.

Vanya sighed at their antics and turned on her heel to follow the angry Sigurd. "I do not need a scolding, Vanya! Control your husband."

The redhead huffed and tugged on Sigurd's wrist. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown as she glared him down. "I shall put a leash on the both of you! Why can't you just get along for once? Especially now. I know you care for him."

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes and huffed in his dramatic way. Hoenir stayed behind with Ivar, figuring that Vanya would return when she was finished with Sigurd.

The taller male looked down at Vanya and saw the axe still in her hand. With a tired sigh, he reached towards the weapon to take it away from her. But Vanya pulled her hand back and huffed in frustration.

"Tell me." She insisted.

"I tried to be civil. But Ivar wouldn't take no for an answer. So I lashed out." Gods, why must men be so feral? Why can't they just give each other the cold shoulder and be done with it?

"What did he say?"

"Shouldn't you be more interested in what I said? Protecting your husband's honor and all? You have been doing that a lot lately. Playing guard dog doesn't suit you, Sister."

Vanya rolled her eyes at his harsh remark. "Ivar's honor doesn't need protecting. He is capable of doing that himself, obviously. What I want to do is defuse the situation before we have to bury you too."

"It was about Mother." Aaah. Well, that explains it. "He doesn't like that don't mourn her. She ignored all of us. She raised Ubbe and Hvitserk just fine, giving them happy childhoods. All I had was a year with her and Father. And then Ivar came along. And that cripple was all she cared about. Ubbe raised me more than she did."

Vanya's eyes softened, and she released her grip on his wrist. "I get why you are angry. And why revenge doesn't interest you-"

"Why should it?! Father abandoned us all. The people and his family. All Mother had was the memory of Harbard, duties, alcohol, and Ivar. I don't see the need to avenge either of them. You and Ivar both see her as some perfect image. Even Ubbe thinks her a mediocre mother. I am the only one not blinded by lies!"

He seethed, the snake eye looking like it was pulsating. The redhead watched him with sad eyes. "Just because I loved Aslaug as a mother doesn't mean that I don't get what you are feeling."

Their eyes met, and Sigurd shook his head, a confused look on his face. "You mourn her. You want revenge for her."

"For Aslaug, yes. Because she was nice to me. But if it were my mother..." She let the words hang in the air, Sigurd understanding what she wanted to say. "But this isn't just about revenge or parents. I worry for you."

"I am fine."

Vanya scoffed and pointed the axe at him. "Because the blacksmith stopped the axe from slicing your throat! What if he wasn't there? You two fight like dogs, and how long before one of you dies, and we have to bury another family member?"

"Stop worrying, Vanya."

"NO!" The musician stared at her wide-eyed. "You, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar and Aros are all I have. You are my family, and I don't know what I would do without any of you. Especially you."

He swallowed and tried to calm her down. "Vanya..."

"We may butt heads because of Ivar. But I care for you. You have a gentle soul."

"Vikings don't have souls."

"A gentle heart then! And a brilliant mind! What a waste it would be if you died so young. Only because you keep egging him on. I can try to keep him calm, but I won't be there all the time. And I worry that one day I will get the news that one of you died."

Sigurd sighed and pulled his sister-in-law into a hug. "I will try. But I make no promises." She chuckled at his humor and sent him off.

When she returned to their hut, Ivar was sitting on the bed, sulking. Vanya sighed and sat down next to him, but he refused to acknowledge her. She understood his jealousy, but it was unnecessary.

She loved Ivar, not Sigurd, and Aros was the proof of that. Never before was Ivar bothered by her relationship with his older brother. After all, since the wedding, they were her brothers as well. She saw them as nothing more, and yet, Ivar decided to act out now and ignore her.

Was it the fact that she ran after Sigurd, or that she looked disappointed before she did it? What was she supposed to do? Look proud that he nearly murdered his brother? After all the times she stood up to the snake-eyed Viking, Ivar had the nerve to get jealous! The insecurities were there before, but normally it led to talks, not to brooding.

Some reasons were the fact that Sigurd liked to mock his ability to walk or his temper. Another reason was the fact that Sigurd was originally supposed to be her husband. If it wasn't for Ivar's disability, that is. Silas saw potential in Sigurd's eye being seen as a symbol of the devil. And any child born with that eye would be a devil spawn and rejected to the crown. But Ivar's condition was a better choice, and so Silas chose him.

As if Vanya had no choice in staying with Ivar. She could have divorced him and married Sigurd instead. But Vanya didn't love Sigurd. Instead, she chose Ivar despite all his faults. They were lovable to her, but at times like these, she questioned her patience.

"You have no reason to be angry with me."

"I am not angry." Right, and the cold shoulder and pout were a sign of utter adoration and attention.

Vanya rolled her eyes and laid Aros down in his bed. "I am not angry either. A little bit disappointed but not shocked. I expected it, but I still hate that it nearly happened."

Ivar sighed and turned to watch her bent over their son's crib. "Sigurd brings out the worst in me."

"I can see that. But you could try to restrain yourself from time to time. He is your brother, and he isn't Silas. Your feud with him is different from mine with Silas. That doesn't make it less important, but you shouldn't let yourself be controlled by anger. There are consequences for murdering someone!"

"Yes, banishment. I know."

"And guilt. You two can claim that you hate each other, but I see the love there. I see that some parts of you worry for each other. Don't throw that away just because you both act like children."

She stood up and walked towards him. Sitting down in his lap, Vanya smiled at him softly. "If not for yourself, then do it for me and my gentle heart."

"There is nothing fragile or gentle about you, Min dyrebare (My precious). You have a kind heart, but you also have a strong spirit." Vanya smiled so brightly like the sun that it made Ivar freeze. Never was her smile so happy and breathtaking.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Ivar." She teased, swaying her hips over his lap. Well, so much to that. Flipping them both over, Ivar got to kissing a trail down her neck. The fire in the fireplace cracked soundly as the room filled with noises of pleasure.

Vanya laid under Ivar, panting as she watched his dark blue eyes stare down at her with the usual shine to it. His eyes were always her favorite part of him, so deep, mysterious, and powerful. The sweat on her skin felt uncomfortable, but his sweet sounds and gentle touches put her at her ease.

The gods gave her many challenges in her path, Ivar being one of them. But if he wasn't her favorite challenge. "Faster!"

#vikings #original character #original female character #history vikings #ivar the boneless #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar #Ivar x oc

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pokeasleepingsmaug · 8 years ago

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Thank you to the lovely @shesafreesoul for sharing this wonderful idea with me! I hope it lives up to the story in your head! And I know @underthenorthstar was thinking of taking a shot at this story, too, and I hope you will! This is such an awesome framework that can go in so many directions, and I love your work. I would love to see what you make of this!

This will be only the first of many parts, and this is probably more of a prologue than anything else. It’s one of my first times attempting a longer multipart fic on purpose (usually I just do unplanned part 2s haha), so please let me know what you guys think so far! I’m always looking to improve my storytelling :) It also doesn’t have a title yet, since I suck at titles. I’m so excited for this, and I really hope it turns out like I hope it will!

Ivar studied the map carefully. “Do we know the outcome of the raid on this town yet?” He pointed to a spot near the far border of the kingdom that bordered his. “They are a small kingdom and we should have no problem defeating them, especially while the troops are off on this raid. If we move quickly, we can probably get there before them and seize their throne. But if their troops come back flush with victory, it will be harder. Still, I am not worried.”

His brother Ubbe shook his head. “We have heard nothing yet, Ivar.” Ubbe had long ago given up his claim on the kingship, stating plainly that he had no desire for ruling. He knew Ivar would be a better leader, more cunning and fearless, but he was happy to help whenever Ivar called upon him. He was the staunchest of Ivar's friends, but he was happiest on his farm, with his wife Margarethe and their three small children. He was a simple, honest man who loved the feeling of accomplishment after a good day's work. But still, Ivar knew, sometimes he itched for battle, for the heady rush of power brought by taking a life, and he always came to fight at Ivar's side.

Ivar clasped a fond hand on his older brother's shoulder, nodding. “I have made my decision. We leave immediately, and with luck we will reach their city in two days time.” He wrinkled his brow, thinking. “Do we have word of where the princess is?”

Ubbe thought for a moment. “No. Do you remember when she came to Kattegat with her father when she was young? She was very lovely, and probably long since married off. She is no concern, I am almost certain. If she were, we would have heard of her by now.”

Ivar nodded, satisfied. “Good. We leave as soon as possible. Tell the chieftains.” Ubbe strode off, leaving Ivar alone in the great hall of Kattegat. He drained the horn of mead sitting by his elbow and glanced at the rough map one more time. His brother Bjorn who ruled over another neighboring kingdom had drawn it for him. Ever since he discovered the map of the Mediterranean, Bjorn had taken to exploring and drawing maps of the places he found. His sketches were crude, since his strong hands were made for swinging swords, and because he had never learned to draw as a child, not really. But still they were helpful, and Ivar was happy his wandering brother had taken the time to make it for him.

He lowered himself to the floor, crawling to the chamber behind the hall where he kept his weapons. His leather armor was there, polished and gleaming with oil, smooth and supple to the touch. He loved the feel of all things to do with battle—the way the handle of his favorite ax melded to his grip, the reassuring weight of his armor, the spray of blood on his face. He sighed longingly. He was a little past his middle twenties now, and he had learned in the three or so years of his kingship to hide the bloodlust and the clever anger beneath a veneer of reason. He liked to think it made him even more dangerous than before—the impetuous, ill-tempered boy had grown into a wise, canny ruler. But still those things hummed ever in his blood, reminding him of who he really was. The need to prove himself still whispered in his mind, even though his people were happy under his rule.

He led them on raids every summer, throwing gold and silver at his men like he himself hated the precious metals, and they prospered. They fought for him happily, their taste for battle and for riches and glory satisfied, but still Ivar found himself wanting more. More land, more men. It was time not just for raids, but to lead an army of conquest like he and his brothers had in Wessex. This time, though, it was only himself in charge, and he rather liked that feeling of control. Nobody to fight with, nobody to question his wisdom. Only Ubbe, who was ever honest with him. Of all his brothers, he loved and respected Ubbe the most.

He pulled his leather armor down from its peg and drew it on, tightening the straps to make it fit like a second skin. He felt the most at home in his armor, more himself than any other time in his life. He strapped his shield over his back, running a hand over the beautiful knotwork painted around the edge. It had saved his life countless times, painted by the clever fingers of his friend Floki. Next to come to his hand was his favorite ax, the one he had carried into every battle. The handle had molded itself to his grip, simply becoming a part of him over the years. He also strapped a sword to his hip. Although he much preferred his ax, he could wield a sword at least as well as any other man, and besides he liked carrying many weapons. A dagger was the next, strapped to his thigh. He had a bow and a quiver full of straight, fine arrows, too. They would sit beside him in his chariot.

A dangerous man, a skilled fighter proficient with all the weapons a man might need on the field of battle, and a large army loyal to him and him alone. Yes, this kingdom would be easy to conquer. A flash of anticipation shocked through him as he went to check his horse and chariot. He was eager to be off.

#ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar fic #king!ivar #vikings fic #ivar x original female character #also an appearance by big brother ubbe

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bouncehousedemons · 2 years ago

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Beauty and The Beast

Rating: E Pairing: Ivar x female character (second person, no use of y/n) Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, major character death, canon-typical violence Word count: 10k (6 chapters)

Summary: A Vikings take on Beauty & The Beast. There is no beast in this tale, just Ivar being Ivar. I’ve incorporated elements of both the original 1740 fairy tale written by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve and the 1991 Disney animated film.

Read the full fic on AO3

#vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar fanfiction #ivar's heathen army #vikings ivar #ivar x you #vikings fic #vikings history channel #vikings fandom

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salt-is-a-terrible-currency · 7 years ago

Note

9, 18, and 28 for Fredrika and B for the uncommon character and Creator asks please 😄

Uncommon questions for OCs and their creators

Tag list: @romanchronicles, @umnoyeahno, @pebblesz892, @kenzieam, @kahliethefangirl, @oddsnendsfanfics, @belle-scarre, @captainpoopweinersoldier, @brightlycoloredteacups, @hvitserksgirl, @oqueequesentes-borboletas, @rekdreams247, @bluearchersstuff, @titty-teetee, @captstefanbrandt, @ivars-heathen , @maggymoo96

TW mention of alcoholism

9. Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Fredrika’s parents swore a lot. She used to do this too when she was a kid, something that her teachers didn’t appreciate. After a teacher reamed her out when she was 8 years old, Fredrika didn’t utter another swear word until she was in her late teens. She distinctly remembers the teacher saying that swear is a sign of a bad vocabulary and that it will make people think she is stupid. Fredrika definitely doesn’t want to come off as less smart. She does swear but most of the time it’s just in her head.

18. What embarrasses them?

Stumbling over the words when presenting in front of her class is definitely something that embarrasses her. At first, Fredrika is also very uncomfortable at the office parties but she learns how to handle it.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Depends on the person and the situation. For instance, if she's at an office party and someone asks about her family she only tells them that she lost her parents years ago. She doesn’t specify that her dad ended up dying as a result of his addiction and that she doesn’t know where her mom is. With Ivar, she doesn’t lie unless it is for the purpose of a surprise. There was a lot of dishonesty in their relationship before they actually became a couple and neither of them wants to fall back into that behaviour.

B) What inspired you to create them?

Last year I had a dream about Ivar, Sigurd, Hvitserk and Ubbe. My friends and I were at an after party with them and the boys really wanted to catch our attention. Sigurd had some of the worst pick up lines ever to exist. As for Fredrika specifically, I didn’t really have much of a plan when I started writing. I just went along with whatever popped into my head as I started writing. Once I had a rough draft of the first chapter I started doing research about the historical events that she and Ivar discuss together the first night that they meet.

#asks #tytoowl #ivar x fredrika #original female character #uncommon questions for ocs and their creators

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ceridwenofwales · 7 years ago

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Who is your favorite OC of yours? (tell us why)

It’s impossible to choose. I’m sorry. Hahahaha. I try to write them in a way that they look different from one another. I’m not sure if I’m succeeding. :(

I’m talking about my female characters. I’ll write more about the male characters later. Thanks for your asks. I love you. ^^

I like that Blaeja from The Saxon Rose and The Ouroboros speak her mind to her father, trying to make Aella see his mistakes and the possibilities to handle the conflicts in a different way. The way she tries to act like her mother should, especially to protect her brother, is what I try to emphasize.

Blaeja from The Enemy’s Daughter is a little bit different. She is protective of her people and brother as well, sending him away before the Ragnarssons can do something against him. But I feel like she is darker and bolder. I mean, she challenged Ivar, hahaha. *wink

===

The Fox and The Maiden Fair

Emer: The Irish princess is smart and taught a trick Ivar was famous for, hahahaha. Yeah, the ox’s hide. Hahahaha. She will face many internal conflicts because differently from Blaeja, her father is still alive and causing problems in her marriage and daily life. Not to mention the religious aspect.

Sorcha: She is suspicious of Emer at first because Ivar’s wife is part of the society enslaving her. But when Sorcha gets to know that she is also a woman with her own struggles doing her best to help those around her, she starts to bond with Emer. Especially after her sister, Rhona, tries to change her slave status by throwing herself at Ivar.

Rhona: I know some people hate the girl because of what she tried to do. But I don’t blame her, she tried to do what she could to change her situation and she was not wrong to rebel against slavery.

Borghild: Sigvards’s first wife is a thoughtful, humble and supportive person. I’ll try to write more about her and the dynamic of her marriage, since Sigvard has a second wife. I don’t want to give spoilers, but she had suffered for not being able to have children. Now she feels like Harald is her son as well as Thora. They work together like sisters, not that I think there is no jealousy.

Thora: She has a playful nature and a more free approach to her sexuality.

====

A Grumpy Customer

Emer: She is a little shyer than Helena/Blaeja. But as it’s a modern setting, she is more independent and free about her sexuality.

Helena. Do you know that one friend that put you in embarassing situations? It’s Helena. She feels like Emer’s big sister. Always trying to protect and push her to take risks. She is my modern version of Blaeja in this fic as I’ve read that in some versions it is said to have been known as Heluna. So, be aware that she will date Sigurd. ^^

====

The Sea Wolves

Moyra: I want to protect her, even though I have made her suffer a lot, but I needed to tell the story as accurate as possible, and I tried not to be too graphic. I don’t know if it makes sense. What I wanted to show is that she was a fighter in her own way. She could have “accepted” Ivar the way he came to her. But she knows she deserves better. Saying he loved her is not that easy because he didn’t know Moyra. He was not making efforts to approach her. I can’t say more without spoiling you all. Hahahahaha.

Màiri: She is living among the Norsemen for too long that she developed coping strategies to deal with the trauma. I intend to explore her background story in the sequel. As she is experienced, she tries to protect Moyra the way she thinks it’s the best. But it happens that what she is trying to do is to make Moyra complacent with Ivar’s treatment. Something Moyra shouldn’t do.

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years ago

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Not Today XLI

A/N: Hello again! It's been a while, but I'm finally back with a new chapter! My laptop almost went out this week which set me back on finishing this, not to mention travelling as well. However, I am finally ready to present this hot off the press! We're about to begin the final arc of this story, and I'm so excited to press on! I hope you are as well, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Skål!

Masterlist

Quite frankly, the amount of celebration in the halls of Vestfold felt inappropriate to Asta. The Rus were thrilled with their victory, and understandably so, but with all the death that had bought that victory, including that of Björn Ironside, she found it to be in very poor taste. Ivar, who was sitting beside her, seemed… not necessarily like he was in agreement with her, like he felt the same way, but he seemed more underwhelmed than anything else. But Oleg was far from reflecting either of their moods, enthusiastic and excited about their prospects, the odds of them going on to be successful in their future campaigns.

Through the scattered conversation, Oleg called out a toast. “Here’s to victory, my friends!” he announced, and a round of cheers went up. The lack of a shouted Skål! being sent up unsettled Asta, only serving to remind her of the fact that these people were not their friends, whatever Oleg claimed.

Ivar’s dissatisfaction was proven not a moment later, as he shook his head just slightly and reminded Oleg, “The battle of Norway is not over yet. They have only retreated, and probably back to their fortress at Kattegat.”

Oleg was not dissuaded by this. “But probably without their talisman,” he countered. “Their hero. Their leader.” He stood from his seat in the throne at the head of the room and walked to Ivar, upon whose shoulder he laid his hand. “They say you killed him yourself.”

You certainly didn’t, Asta thought, glaring up at Oleg. She barely stopped herself from speaking the words.

“Mmm,” Ivar hummed. “I cannot be completely sure that Björn was dead.”

Oleg opened his mouth to argue, but Hvitserk cut him off before he could. “It’s not possible to kill Björn,” he said. Oleg went and sat in front of him, prompting him to elaborate. Hvitserk did so. “I saw him, getting carried off the battlefield with my own eyes.”

Asta could easily see that this had concerned Oleg, and a part of her wanted to enjoy that concern from him. She knew Björn was dead, had seen him fade from her sight, but if Oleg was uneasy, she’d be happy for him to believe Björn Ironside yet lived. He was looking for any sort of comfort in his uncertainty, and so even asked Hvitserk, “But you cannot say that he was still alive?”

“Uh… no,” Hvitserk replied with a slight shake of his head. “No, I cannot.”

Oleg nodded a little at that, and Ivar gave an irritated little huff, not wanting to focus on this any longer. “So,” he interrupted. “When do we leave for Kattegat?”

“As soon as we have repaired our ships,” Oleg answered, standing and starting to walk away. “This business must be finished. I confess, we lost more warriors in the battle than I had intended.” He sat on the throne once again. “You Vikings fight hard.”

Before Oleg could continue this train of thought, the doors to the Great Hall were opened, quite loudly, and two men were brought in who Asta didn’t recognize. Both were in chains, though one was dragged forward while the other was able to walk. Whoever they were, both Ivar and Hvitserk were stunned to see them, though the latter seemed quite a bit worried, too.

“Who are these prisoners?” Oleg demanded of the guards who had brought them in. They didn’t get a chance to answer, as Hvitserk stood and approached them.

“This is King Olaf, once the ruler here,” Hvitserk announced, referring to the older, balder of the two. To Asta, he seemed the sort of old man one might find would be rather wise. She had a distinctly good feeling about him. “And this,” Hvitserk began, continuing to the other, “is King Harald, King of all Norway!”

Harald Finehair. Asta’s eyes narrowed and she stood, walking over to join Hvitserk as Oleg asked if this were all true. He seemed thrilled, but not her. She found herself glaring, angry and grieving again at the memory of a close friend who had died because this man wanted to raid her home. This was the man she held responsible for the death of the bishop, Heahmund.

King Harald was panting as he listened to Oleg, and in an exhausted, worn down answer, he said, “Yes. Alas to say. You cast your net… and when you hauled it in, you found that you have caught both the King and the Joker.”

She could tell he thought himself clever, and bit out, “Or perhaps the Joker and a fool.”

Hvitserk gave something of a bitter chuckle, and then said, “King Olaf’s jokes were never… never my taste.”

King Olaf seemed quite hurt by this, his face falling. “Oh, I thought we got along famously, Hvitserk, son of Ragnar,” he replied.

Ivar stood and walked over to the group, and Asta glanced over at him as he came to stand beside her. “Well, do you remember me?” he asked. “I too am Ragnar’s son.” He lifted his cup to his lips and drank some from it.

“Oh, I know who you are,” said King Olaf. His voice turned mocking as he announced, “Ivar… the Boneless,” which earned a disparaging chuckle from the famed warrior. “From the sewers of York to the Silk Roads, your… your name is legendary. And you… his prophet.” His eyes turned to Asta, and she offered him no more than a bitter smile, before Oleg was cutting in.

“The question is… what to do with you both,” he said. “In what ways can you possibly… be useful to me?” He crouched down to get more level with King Harald.

Harald looked at him with a hardened gaze, and answered, “I have no intention of being useful to you. I won’t bargain for my life. For a Viking, that would be demeaning. To us, death is bliss… and I rush to bleed.”

“And what about you?” Oleg asked Olaf.

“Oh, I, uh… I’m not in a rush,” he said.

Oleg pressed his lips together, almost seeming to smile, before he waved a hand and they were taken away. “What interesting prisoners,” he commented, but Ivar noticed Asta’s disinterest, the way she still glared after Harald’s path.

“Asta?” he prompted. “What’s the matter with you, huh? This is good.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Perhaps we can take King Harald’s head to Kattegat. He should be there when we take it back.”

She didn’t speak another word before brushing past everyone and almost storming out of the Hall into the cold air, and Hvitserk swallowed. He followed her.

“Princess?” he questioned, walking along in her wake as she continued angrily on. He decided to try again. “Princess, what is it?”

Asta suddenly turned on her heel, whipping around to face him. “I despise him,” she hissed. “King Harald attacked my home, and my family. He tried to kill my brothers, he would have killed my mother, and my friends.” She paused to swallow. “He did kill my friend.”

Hvitserk frowned and tilted his head, confused. “Who?” he asked.

“Heahmund.”

“Heahmund?” Hvitserk asked. “The Bishop?”

“Yes,” she answered. “If you must know, he helped train me, and then Harald Finehair attacked Wessex, and Heahmund died. I can’t say who took his life on the battlefield, but I know Harald is the one he went to battle against. I consider all the blood spilt that day to be on his hands.”

Hvitserk chuckled in such a way she couldn’t tell if it was sad or bitter. “If that is so, then anyone who attacks anyone has those warriors’ blood on their hands. Hmm?”

Asta nodded affirmingly. “For that reason, I have blood on my own hands,” she said. “We attacked Vestfold, and the blood of every warrior who died that day is on my hands, too. As is the blood of the man I killed to protect mine and Ivar’s identities. I hate it, but I realized in Kattegat that I wouldn’t return to Wessex with clean hands.”

Hvitserk sighed and stepped toward her. “I’m sorry that happened, Princess,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She offered him a sad smile.

“I think that’s the first time I haven’t hated that title since Björn Ironside laid siege to Kattegat,” she told him. “Thank you, Hvitserk.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckled. “I think I have an idea that might help you.”

“Is that so?” she questioned curiously. He gave a small hum and nodded.

“Come with me,” he instructed. “But be quiet and careful. We can’t be caught.”

Asta nodded slightly and began to follow him, wondering what he might have in store. He eventually led her down to the part of town where the prisons were erected, and had her pause, watching until they saw Ivar and Oleg leave. Then, when it was clear, he waved a hand for her to go inside. Though she did give an unsure frown, she went on as instructed.

Hvitserk did not follow her there, but rather waited outside to be sure no one tried to interrupt her while she was inside. A guard met her there, and while he initially seemed loath to allow her to pass, a few moments staring her down, being stared down by her in return, convinced him to do so. She stepped into a small, dark room, and there she found the Kings Harald and Olaf themselves, tied up and chained down so they couldn’t escape. Her gaze hardened exponentially at the sight of the former.

Harald looked up when the door opened, and at the sight of her walking in, he leaned his head back and chuckled darkly. “Ivar’s ‘Prophet’,” he said, drawing out the words. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“There is no pleasure in this,” Asta said. He lifted his head once more to look her in the eye.

“You are English,” he noted. “I thought so when we spoke in my Hall, but I could not be sure until I heard you again. So tell me… what is an English woman doing so far from home?” Something about the way he asked that question sent a shiver down her spine.

“Ask yourself, Finehair,” she nearly snarled. “Or have you already forgotten how you attacked Wessex, and stirred the King to call out his warriors, so that my friend and confidant was killed. I knew when I left that I would never see him again, but it’s you I blame for it.”

Harald tilted his head and leaned it back a bit, regarding her with a curious gaze. “The Princess,” he realized. “Björn Ironside spoke of you when he came to York. He told me about your mission to see Ivar. They couldn’t find you after we took Kattegat.”

“Then Björn didn’t trust you with the truth,” she mused. “He knew I was leaving with Ivar, so did Hvitserk. I suppose I should feel good about the fact he decided to protect me as opposed to telling you everything.”

“And you betrayed him,” Harald chuckled. “He led me to believe Ivar had killed you, before he disappeared, and the topic became one that wasn’t discussed in Kattegat. No one speaks of Ivar’s rule anymore. How does it feel to know you were a part of his-?”

Asta suddenly knelt down to get in his face. “You watch your mouth,” she hissed. “I don’t know what plans Oleg has for you, but I assure you, they won’t interfere with my own desires.”

“He has decided I am going to live,” Harald practically gloated. “Ivar says he’d have made a different call.”

“As would I,” Asta agreed. “Perhaps I still will.”

Harald chuckled. “I told Ivar he didn’t have the power here,” he said. “Do you?”

“I have it,” she growled. “Oleg may have decided to spare you, but I have not. You should pray that Ivar will change my mind.”

“And who should he pray to?” a voice interrupted. Asta turned to see it was Olaf asking, and she gave a wry smile.

“His gods, of course. I’m curious if they would choose to spare him.”

“Then you are still a Christian,” Harald almost huffed. “How does Ivar of all people tolerate that?”

“The same way Ragnar Lothbrok tolerated my father, I suspect,” she replied shortly. “That, or perhaps it is the fact I am Ivar’s wife that makes the difference.”

“His wife?” Olaf repeated. “I thought he was married to a… another woman?”

“Freydís,” Asta supplied, her eyes falling. “He was. She did not survive the siege on Kattegat, and I regret it every day.”

Harald chuckled a little. “So tell me, how did a Christian woman leave Wessex and become the wife of a Heathen king?” he questioned. She rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps I’ll tell you one day, if you survive this,” she said. “For now, I will let you wonder. But know this-” She paused to crouch down in front of him. “-if you speak a word of what I have said here, of my being here at all, I will come to you in the night and cut your throat open. I’ve done it before. I fought at the Siege of Kattegat, defended Ivar with my own life, and sacrificed the lives of others for his. If you think I would flinch at spilling your blood, you fool yourself. The only reason I don’t do so now, in recompense for the life of my friend, is so Oleg has no reason to distrust me. Do I make myself clear?”

“As ice,” Harald replied with a chuckle. His amusement further angered her, and she stood with a huff.

“I’m going now,” she said. “I look forward to seeing you rot.” With that, she turned away, and started for the door.

But, it was then that Olaf spoke up again, and the sound of his voice made her pause. “There is pain in you, child,” he said. “So much pain… and it shows itself in your anger.”

“What do you know of my pain?” Asta hissed, turning her head back just slightly over her shoulder- not really looking at him, but directing her voice in his direction.

“Oh, I know nothing of your pain, not unless you tell me,” Olaf conceded without hesitation. “So why don’t you tell me? I am going to die after all. Who could I tell?”

“I won’t air my dirty laundry out in front of him, I don’t think. He isn’t going to die, not so far as Oleg is concerned. I don’t want a reason to have to kill him,” she countered.

“Not even if he had to face the full of what he had done to you? Or if it meant he would have to live with knowing that?” Olaf pointed out. She began to consider.

What was, truly, the worst that could happen? When Olaf died, Harald would be the only one in that room who heard what she confessed, and it would be his word against hers, Ivar’s, and Hvitserk’s, as she knew they would never give her away. But what good was it to tell Olaf anyway? To get another opinion? To talk it out and understand it better for herself? She wasn’t sure, and yet her mouth opened anyway, and she spoke.

“My family are dead,” she said. “My mother, my father, the father whose blood runs through my veins, my brother, even some of those friends I consider just as close as brothers and sisters. Björn Ironside is dead. Lagertha is dead. I haven’t heard about Ubbe or Torvi since I left Wessex so long ago. Heahmund, the warrior bishop? Dead. I don’t know if my brother Alfred still lives, because he doesn’t know where I am to reach me. And Freydís, the woman I have loved more than any in this world, is dead. So shall we do a little head count of who I do still have? I have Hvitserk, who is now as much a brother to me as any brother I have ever known, and I have Ivar, who has been the cause of much of this pain, and yet who I still will never sacrifice. I don’t count anyone else in this place to be someone I truly have, because I know one day I will leave it behind. But Hvitserk and Ivar? Lord, I could never. So there it is, and still, you do not know my pain; you haven’t been the one to bear it.”

“It’s no wonder you are so angry,” Olaf said. “Your life is… changed, in ways you never could have imagined it would. But you have strong faith, to still walk this path. Faith in what?”

Asta finally looked at him, turning her body so that she was facing him fully once more. “In God,” she replied. The words almost shook her to her core, as if waking some long quieted part of her being. For so long now she had pretended to be Viking, to follow their gods, that to confess this to someone aloud… she almost feared the consequences.

Olaf smiled at her. “Then you must trust Him,” he said. “You have not suffered for no reason, Princess. For He knows the plans He has for you.”

She felt stunned, blinking a few times as she registered Olaf’s words, and then she began to back away just slightly. “I should go,” she said. “I need to be alone.”

Asta gave Olaf no further opportunity to reply, nor did she say a word to Harald, before she was almost rushing out of the room, where she found Hvitserk still waiting for her. “Princess?” he greeted. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I need to think on some things.”

Hvitserk nodded slowly, though he had to walk quickly if he wanted to keep up with her. “What things?” he asked her. She stopped suddenly to look up at him, and the anxiety he saw reflected in her eyes gave him pause. He didn’t know the last time he had seen her look like this, which shook him up quite a bit. “Princess?” he prompted again.

“I don’t think I can keep the lies up for any longer,” she confessed.

Hvitserk swallowed hard. “We need to see Ivar,” he replied, letting out a long, slow breath. He waited on her to give a little nod, anything to confirm she was alright with that, and then wrapped an arm around her to support her as he started to walk them back to his brother. He would know what to do. When did he not?

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mighty-ragnarssons · 4 years ago

Text

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter I

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Summary | Ivar always thought he'd be one of those people that never find the love of their lives. But then he found her - or, as the story goes, she bumped into him. He never saw it coming. Then he had to deal with it, and all the consequences that came along. Warnings | some smut, a little angst, harassement, teenage pregnancy

You can read in AO3 as well (click here).

Chapter 1

There was no one in town that didn’t know about the Ragnarssons, the children of the famous Ragnar Lothbrok. They were fearless, they were reckless, and they were dangerous, just like their father. That’s what everybody said.

Bjorn was the eldest, the first-born of Ragnar’s first marriage with Lagertha. There had been a daughter too, Gyda, but she had passed away terribly young. After that, Ragnar had only sons born from his second marriage, this time with Aslaug. First came Ubbe, then Hvitserk and Sigurd. All of them perfectly healthy and strong boys that, much like Bjorn and to Ragnar’s amusement, took after their father in several ways. Unexpectedly and accidentally, however, there was a fifth child, the last son of Ragnar, Ivar.

Ivar was very different from his brothers.

Born with a bone condition, he was crippled from the start. It was not just his legs that wouldn’t allow him to ever walk on his own, but a whole lot more pain coming from his frail bones that were never to be trusted. No wonder he grew up as a vulnerable, angry, and sad kid, despite being his mother’s favorite and most protected son. And now, as he was becoming a man, people called him mad and a drunk, a wild card with whom everyone rather stay away from. Ivar didn’t mind, he preferred to be tamed than to be pitied after a lifetime of being looked down on. In fact, he would do everything in his power to remain like this. It was the only way to prove himself and stay out of his brothers’ shadow and, most importantly, his father’s to who Ivar was the least favored son, something which hurt the boy more deeply than his constant physical pain.

“Hurry up, Ivar. Crawl faster, or else when we get to the club Ubbe and Hvitserk will have gotten all the best girls” Sigurd’s voice echoed loudly through the house.

Ivar was there a second later clearly annoyed at his brother’s mocking tone. “Last time I checked, dear brother, you need me to drive you. So shut up. Let’s go.”

Sigurd couldn’t argue back. He did need Ivar to drive them to the club. He kept failing at taking his driver’s license. It was humiliating to have to need his crippled brother to drive him, but Ubbe and Hvistserk, the bastards, hadn’t been home. Minutes afterward Ivar was behind the wheel of his accessible SUV and off they were.

Thirty minutes later they were skipping the line to get into the club. The Ragnarssons had their ways. If there was one circuit in which their name was known by everyone, it was the nightlife one. No party would ever start without one of them being there. Ivar and Sigurd joined Ubbe and Hvisterk in the VIP area. As usual, Ivar took a corner where he knew he’d spend the next few hours drinking, smoking, and glaring at the dancing crowd. Perhaps if someone caught his eye he’d make a move, but usually, it was more like his brothers to do that.

“There you go” Hvitzerk handed him a joint “Don’t look so serious, Ivar. The night is young. Enjoy!” By the looks of it, it was clear that he was already a bit high. But again it was Hvitserk and unusual would be to find him sober. “A lot of pretty ladies out there. Want me to pick one for you?”

Ivar knew Hivtserk was only joking, but he still didn’t like it. His brother, ignoring Ivar’s cold glare and much to his annoyance, started pointing out to random girls who were dancing. “Oh, look at that one. C’mon Ivar, ain’t she a treat to stare at?”

Thankfully, Hivtserk stopped his stupid game once their oldest brother Bjorn joined them, bringing shots to everyone with the help of his wife, Torvi.

“Brother, to what do we owe the honor?” Ivar said, throwing one of his ironic smirks.

“I bring good news. Father is going to be released from jail sooner than expected. In three months to be exact! I had to pull some strings but it’s settled”

The news was received with different reactions. Sigurd didn’t seem that happy, while Ivar was the opposite. Ubbe was the first one to hold one of the shot glasses and started the toast “To Father! To Ragnar!”

Ragnar had been in prison for almost three years due to white-collar crimes, having been convicted of corporate fraud and money laundering. His sentence would’ve been of more than ten years, but Ragnar had his ways and was able to cut a deal for five years. And now, apparently, he would only serve almost four. Throughout this time it had been Bjorn taking over the leadership of the family’s successful business, Northmen Ventures, of which all of Ragnar’s sons had become the sole shareholders just before he was imprisoned. This explained why they were one of the richest families in their Norwegian city of Bergen.

Bjorn, now age 30, had been the natural successor of Ragnar. Not only because he was the oldest and perhaps the favorite son of Ragnar, but also because at the time he was the only one with a university degree, having just graduated from Law School. Yet, all of Ragnar’s sons were meant to get involved with the business. At least that was their father’s wish. Ubbe, now 24, had just graduated from Architecture School but had recently joined Bjorn on the company’s executive board. Ivar wasn’t given the opportunity to help out, something which he grudged his older brothers - for dismissing him for his age, despite the fact that he’d watch and learned as much from his father as possible since an early age. Now 19 he was a freshman in college taking Business Administration. Then there were Hvitserk, 23, and Sigurd, 21, the ones more adamant about following in their father’s footsteps. Hvitserk was using the money they were all getting to sustain his pricy bachelor lifestyle, and so was Sigurd who dedicated most of his time to art and music. Neither tried to pursue a higher education degree.

“Don’t get too excited. Father will be back and then what? It’s not like he cares about us.” Sigurd, the mood killer, chugged his beer aggressively “He didn’t let us visit him in prison not even once. Not even Mother was allowed to. He didn’t even care for sending a postcard for Christmas!”

“He must have had his reasons.”

“And he left us the company”

“And so what? He just wanted to prevent it from ending up in the hands of the government. Fuck him! You might all want to play the role of doting sons, but I’m not gonna tag along” After this Sigurd stormed off.

The remaining brothers looked at one another. A little bit of what Sigurd had just said resounsed with them, but at the same time they were excited to welcome back their father. Things would be very different with him around.

“I say we celebrate.” Ivar said, not minding Sigurd. He couldn’t wait for his father to be back so that he could prove himself once and for all. He was no longer the defenseless crippled child he was when Ragnar went away.

Despite the good mood he was in about Bjorn’s good news, Ivar wasn’t vibing with the club’s atmosphere that night. Hvitserk and Ubbe were making out with some random girls, Sigurd was nowhere to be seen and Torvi and Bjorn had left already. Instead, he was craving for some adrenaline and he knew just the way to get it. Texting his dealer, he left the club with the help of his crutches.

Nothing was to stop him except that on the way out someone bumped into him almost causing him to lose his fragile balance. Fury grew on Ivar who was about to yell at whoever made the mistake of infuriating him that night, but that’s when her face lost the blurriness of a few seconds ago and Ivar lost his balance again but for a completely different reason.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...shit”

“Bitch, get back! For the hundredth time, you’re not getting in!”

The girl’s expression quickly turned one of desperation. “I told you I have to. My cousin needs help! Don’t stop me, please” Her words were towards the bouncer that was now pulling her back, but her pleading eyes were on Ivar as if asking for help.

“Hey, let her go!” Ivar didn’t know why, but his rage got up to new levels when he saw the bouncer getting his filthy hands on her. “I said back off. Take your fucking hands off of her.”

At Ivar’s command the bouncer let her go. It didn’t matter that he was a big muscle guy, Ivar took a step towards him and faced him with a cold death stare.

“She’s coming in with me, do you understand?”

“Ragnarsson, she is a minor. I can’t let her in.”

“I’m not asking.”

His tone set it. He nodded so that the girl got in the club ahead of him. She didn’t even say a word, going immediately in. Ivar had to hurry himself inside to catch up.

“Fuck, there’s so many people” she noticed looking absolutely lost.

“Let me help you.” he offered.

“The bathrooms. My cousin... she called me, she didn’t sound fine… I’m worried something’s happened... She said she couldn’t move” she was trembling as she spoke. Ivar reached her hand with his.

“If she is here we are going to find her.” he assured her “Follow me”

It was not typical of Ivar to help a lady in distress but as he was guiding this girl through the crowd of drunk dancing people he couldn’t understand the need he was abruptly feeling for shielding her and, worst of all, to comfort her. These feelings left him uneased, but he was not going to dwell into that right now. If his suspicions were right and her cousin was somewhere in the club, then she was probably drugged to the point of unconsciousness and in a position to be taken advantage of.

They swiped all the bathrooms at the club until at last they burst into one where a girl was noticeably knocked down in a corner.

“Cathrine!” the girl immediately crouched down on her cousin. “Cathrine, can you hear me?”

“All of you, get out” Ivar demanded the girls who were inside. Some tried to complain, after all he was the guy in a female bathroom. These same girls that had paid no attention, or they just didn’t care, to the other girl on the floor. He then went outside as fast as he could and got a water bottle.

“She’s awake, but barely. Says she 's dizzy. She’s not talking right”

“She was likely drugged” It wouldn’t be a first in that club “Make her sip some water” he threw the water bottle at them. He really wanted to level down to them, but with his crutches and all it just wouldn’t go well. “I’m gonna find help.”

He ‘raced’ to the VIP area. Only Hivtserk was there with a girl on top of him. What was wrong with his brothers for acting as if their corner was a place of public foreplay display?

“Hvitserk, I need your help!”

“Go away Ivar” he grumbled and continued to suggestively run his hands on the brunette over his lap.

Ivar had to take the matter into his hands. The first thing he found was a leftover cocktail on the table which he threw at the girl. Her immediate squeak was so high and audible despite the deafening music. She practically jumped from on top of his brother.

“You crazy motherfucker!”

“What the fuck Ivar?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Come with me. I need your help.”

Usually he didn't have much faith in his brothers - after all they were a pain in his ass most of the time - but this time he was really hoping to call on Hvitserk’s good senses. Fortunately his prayers were answered and his older brother followed him back to the bathroom

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a passed out girl. We need to get her out of here.”

“Would you go so far as in to get laid, little brother? Oh, you sicko”

“This is not the time for jokes, asshole. You’re the sicko for even suggesting that”

Ivar was almost regretting getting Hvitserk to help, but the truth was that he alone wouldn’t be able to carry the girl out from the bathroom. The moment they got in there Hvitserk got a bit more serious and kneeled next to the two girls.

“Let’s get her out of here”

Together with Hvitserk, the girl helped raise her semi-unconscious cousin. People inside the club were so fucked up that they didn’t drop one second to look at them leaving.

“Take her to my car” Ivar indicated and so they did. He unlocked his metallic grey SUV from afar and went on to open the backdoors where they laid the girl. “Let her get some fresh hair. It will do her good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Hvitserk suggested.

A loud “No!” came from the inside of the car.

“She can’t. It will be too complicated” said the other girl but not without hinting her dissatisfaction.

Ivar finally took a moment to fully look at her. Dressed in just a pair of jeans and a warm sweatshirt, she was lean and tall, but at least a good ten centimeters shorter than himself. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun with some strands falling down on her face. He had to hold the instinct to gently brush those aside. And her eyes… They were a very greyish blue color like he had never seen before. They were mirroring worry and nervousness.

“I’m calling a cab. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you” she said facing Ivar and Ivar only.

“I can drive you.” he offered without thinking.

“We already bothered you enough -”

Ivar cut her off “Nonsense. I’m going to drive you” he declares in a way that offered no other option.

Relief poured from her gaze “Thank you”

It was quite the drive, further out of Bergen’s city center. By the time they got there the passed out girl - Cathrine - had regained consciousness, albeit feeling nauseous and dizzy. Hvitserk carried her alone in his arms to the inside of the house and further into her bed. It was time enough for her to fall asleep like a rock.

“She seems just to need some rest. Keep her hydrated when she wakes up.”

“If she was drugged then it should wear off her system soon”

“Noted. I don’t know how to thank you both”

“You could go on a date with one of us, how does that sound?”

“Hvitserk!” Ivar admonished in reaction to the girl’s shocked expression “Please, ignore my brother. He, too, has drugs that need to wear off his system”

“You’re no fun, Ivar” Hvitserk couldn’t argue back on the drugs part. “A pleasure to help, milady. Until next time” He did a silly bow and left the apartment back to the car.

“Is he always like that?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” Ivar shrugged his shoulders “Hand me your phone” Because she did without complaining, he got it and put his number in there “I’m Ivar Lothbrook. Whenever you need help.”

What he really wanted to say was ‘text me’. He didn’t have the nerve for that, tho.

For the first time that night she finally showed a glimpse of a smile “Honestly, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help, Ivar Lothbrok”

Her hand was touching his and for a moment everything seemed to stop. The way his name sounded on her lips… A shiver went down his spine. He wanted to hear it again, but most importantly he wanted to know her name.

But in that exact moment a horn yelled. Goddamned Hvitserk. He was going to wake up the whole street, which was the opposite of what the girls had asked. “I better go drive him home now or else he’ll wake up the whole neighborhood”

Yet Ivar was finding it difficult to leave. To leave her. Another honk made him take the necessary steps.

“I mean it when I say for you to use my number whenever. Stay safe”

He finally closed the door behind him and walked back to the car, but not before looking over his shoulder. There she was, by the window, waving goodbye with a shy smile on her face.

He needed to see her again.

The next morning Ivar woke up rather hopeful of seeing a text message. Seeing there was none, his day didn’t kick off exactly on the right terms. Throughout the day he checked his phone more times than he cared to admit and each time he grew impatient and irritated. What was it about that girl to make him like this? It’s not like he usually gave a crap about whoever he met.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve got a right cob-on” his older brother Ubbe asked later that day when they were all chilling by the firepit in the backyard of the Lothbrook’s home.

Although in Norway it was uncommon for people their age to still be living at home, in their case that’s how things were and worked out great most days. Usually it was just the four brothers and the house was big enough for them not to be in each other’s ways.. Their mother, Aslaug Lothbrok, ran one the country’s finest art galleries. After her husband’s arrest she had moved her gallery to the capital city, Oslo, instead of their home city. Lately she spent most of her time there rather than at home.

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone”

“He’s hung up” teased Hvitserk “Still thinking about the pretty blondie from last night, brother?”

Right that moment Ivar wished he could smack the mocking smiles out of his brother’s faces.

“Well, well, well Ivar. Didn’t know you had company last night.”

“He didn’t. Not exactly. None of us did” Hvitserk proceed to put Ubbe on the loop in regards to their little episode last night. “Instead of asking her for her number, our little brother gave her his. Wrong move, dude.” Ivar immediately regretted telling this to Hvitserk. “Don’t be so bummed out, Ivar. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Speaking of…”

A blonde Ivar doesn’t care much about exits their home in Sigurd’s company, both appearing content which can only mean one thing. Margrethe is a constant guest at the Lothbrok’s and probably the only female with the fame of being acquainted with all of the brothers’ rooms. Although a favorite among the Ragnarssons, to Ivar she’s nothing but an unpleasant company he is forced to tolerate after they fall out months ago.

“If that’s the fish you’re hinting at, I’d rather go vegan” Ivar mumbled under his breath.

I hope you liked it! It’s my first Vikings fic :) Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language. At least five more chapters will be on the way.

#knocked-up-fic #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #modern vikings #modern vikings au #modern ivar #modern ivar au #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #ivar x original female character #ivar ragnarsson #ragnarssons #my fiction #ivar lothbrok #knocked up fic

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thepaperpanda · 3 years ago

Text

Arranged Marriage || Part I || Ivar x Female!OC

Part II

Summary: Freya, the youngest daughter of Earl from far away northern land, is about to marry the youngest son of Ragnar, Ivar the Boneless. At the beginning, they're not content with the circumstances. The situation changes radically when they discover that they're attracted to each other.

Warnings: None.

Words: 3448

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

For almost all Vikings the family was the most important social unit.

Marriage was virtually universal, divorce rare, and virtually every marriage produced children. Almost all marriages were arranged by family elders based on caste, degree of consanguinity, economic status, and many more. Vikings' marriage was essentially a business contract between two families and it was arranged in two stages: the betrothal and the wedding.

The initiative had to come from the man or his father, who would propose marriage to the woman's father or guardian. If the latter was agreeable, the groom promised to pay the bride price which was called mundr.

In return, the bride's father promised to hand over her dowry at the wedding. Both the bride price and the dowry remained the property of the bride after the wedding. The two men shook hands on the agreement in front of witnesses and agreed on a date for the wedding, usually within a year.

The long table in the throne chamber had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound was contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times.

That day was one of the second options.

"Why have you done this?," Ivar growled, looking directly at queen Aslaug who sat on the opposite side of the table.

Ivar, when he was feeling triggered, didn't care about loving bonds that were becoming inaccessible. In this mode, he had to take great care not to hurt anyone nor to destroy something in his vicinity. Anger, pain, sadness were so intertwined that perhaps their names sought to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of those emotions. His palm curled in a fist smashed against the tabletop. "No one has asked you for any kind of help, mother."

"That's because we all know she would never ask for help," Aslaug sighed deeply, sipping on her beloved wine. "And it's not only about you, Ivar. We planned to place Ubbe in your place because he is the oldest, but since he is so popular among women, there is no point in hurting the girl," she explained and got up to walk closer to him. After cupping his cheek, Aslaug smiled. "You should be glad, love. You will have a wife."

“Like I would need one,” Ivar barked back but placed his palm on top of hers, caressing still smooth skin. “It’s good as it is now, mother. I already have a woman nestled within my heart though.”

Aslaug frowned a little, looking at him. "Who? That thrall? The one that is fucking around like a common whore? I am more than sure she fucked with all three of her brothers, if not with the whole Kattegat."

Ivar let out a loud snort. “It’s you, mother. You’re the most important woman in my life. I don’t need anyone else.”

"One day I will be gone. Someone needs to take care of you once it happens, love," the queen sighed, stroking his cheek.

Ivar got up slowly, looking hard into her eyes. “Just so she would be aware: if any woman appears here, I’ll snap her neck.”

After these words he slowly limped back to his chamber, cursing under his breath at the strong pain within his legs.

Aslaug simply rolled her eyes at Ivar's behaviour.

__________________________________

She bit her lips crossing the gate of Kattegat.

She should be happy! She's going to marry one of Ragnar's sons, it's a great opportunity for her and her family. Yet she was scared and mad. How could someone have decided about her own life and heart?!

So there she was, standing in front of queen Aslaug and her sons while her father told the woman whatever she wanted to know. This was uncomfortable.

Ivar refused to leave his chamber; he still didn’t sign the truce with the idea of his mother. The very last thing he needed or wanted was a random girl lurking through his chambers, wanting nothing but new dresses and demanding attention. And he wanted to raid! With his brothers and father.

The girl went red as her father tried his best to present her in the best way possible. "Queen? If I may... When will I meet my... Future husband? I honestly can't wait," she lied with a perfectly faked smile, looking at the queen's sons. If one of them was going to be her husband, it could be nice.

Aslaug smiled softly and sighed deeply. "Sadly, I have no idea when this will happen. My son decided to be stubborn today."

The girl blinked, shocked.

Hvitserk pushed Ubbe’s side with his elbow, leaning closer to his older brother. “She’s not bad. Looking good, redhead, sweet babyface. Would certainly check what she’s hiding beneath that dress.”

Ubbe couldn’t stop himself from giggling. “You know it’s possible, right? If our brother will be cold towards her, we’re going to warm her bed in the process.”

Suddenly everyone gathered in the throne chamber could hear a steady sound of crutches hitting the wooden floor. Soon, Ivar, all dressed in black, entered the chamber.

She frowned a little looking at the young man.

Of course, she heard about Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple, but she hoped for one of the older boys. Maybe Ubbe, hell, she would even take Bjørn Ironside himself, but the cripple?!

"Queen Aslaug? I was sure we talked about her oldest son," her father said.

"That's true, but the decision changed. It doesn't matter which of my sons she will marry. The arrangement stays the same," the queen replied rather coldly.

"What?! Is this some kind of a joke?!,” the young girl whimpered loudly, getting everyone's attention. "I won't marry a cripple! How am I supposed to have children with him?!”

Ivar stopped for a brief second, listening to her whining. “Here we go then!” He offered her a cold grin. “Believe me,” he said, checking her from the bottom to the top, “If I knew they wanted me to marry such a thrall, I’d have never agreed on that. Just look at her. You look like a beggar. I told you it’s not a good idea, mother,” Ivar walked closer to the queen. “She is here for a few moments and she’s already whining like a drowned kitten.”

"And you aren't better," Sigurd muttered, looking away.

Girl blinked. "A thrall?! How dare she, cripple! I am Earl's daughter. You're not only a cripple, you're also blind."

Aslaug sighed deeply, massaging her temple. "I do not care if she agrees or not, Ivar. You will marry her whether you like it or not," the woman growled slightly, tired of Ivar's behavior. "She will stay here so she two can get to know each other a little. Better be nice.”

“I’ll try to not kill her,” Ivar promised sweetly, at the same moment throwing a cold glance to the girl.

Ubbe stopped his youngest brother by catching his shoulder. “Behave. She’s very pretty and comes from a wealthy family.”

“If you want to have her dick wet with her juices, she can have her, brother,” Ivar snapped back, leaving the Great Hall.

The girl rolled her eyes. You were sure that this relationship would be hard and pointless but she still expected more.

When Ivar was gone, she was left alone since her father wanted to finish everything with the queen and return home.

She decided to take a look around, just to know where she will be living from now on.

After an hour or two she returned to the Great Hall and there she was caught by Ubbe who wanted to talk with her. He was nice, for sure nicer than her soon-to-be husband.

She talked with him for a moment until she noticed Ivar returning to the Great Hall.

“... remember, anytime,” Ubbe smiled at her, winking a little after giving her a piece of advice.

Ivar grunted under his breath; even from a distance, he could see the girl that was supposed to become his wife flirting with his older brother. “Fucking love birds,” he mumbled to himself, slowly limping toward his home.

“Oh, Ivar, there you are!,” Ubbe was the first one to walk closer to his brother. “Where have you been? We got worried.”

“Worried? About who? Your crippled brother? There’s no need to be worried about me, dear brother, I grew bigger balls than hers, and trust me, nobody in their right mind would want to mess with me.”

The girl scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. He was so rude and full of himself that it was simply annoying "Well, somehow there are people who care about her. For some odd reason,” she shrugged.

Ivar frowned, looking at her. “Ubbe, dear brother? Would she be so kind to make this bitch stop barking with that tiny, annoying voice of hers? It irritates my ears.”

Ubbe aimed a blow in the back of Ivar’s head. “Apologise.”

“Who? Her? Never.”

“Apologise,” Ubbe replied. “Or I am going to tell mother and she won’t be impressed.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Sorry but next time do not speak without being allowed.”

"I will speak when I desire to. You won't keep me silent,” she growled back. "The only dog here is you. Trying to walk around and growling, trying to show how scary you are. Just so you know, it doesn't impress me in any way."

Ivar chuckled and looked at her with pity. “As I would care, woman. Better get used to my way of living because our parents are not keen on breaking this ridiculous agreement.” Ivar slowly limped back to the Great Hall, not looking back at her and Ubbe.

She groaned and rubbed her face. "You think Gods will hate me if I throw myself off the cliff or if I drown myself? Gods save me somehow!," She said to Ubbe.

He laughed shortly, darkly. “Don’t be such a pessimist. You need to have faith. Ivar is problematic and very hard to deal with but he has bright sides and deep inside he craves to be loved, with all of his flaws.”

"It doesn't look like it. Ever since he saw me he has called me names,” she sighed deeply. "Maybe I should just return home."

“Give him a chance. You’ll see that he is not that bad. Of course, it will take time to develop any feelings but do not give up on him and the relationship so easily,” he replied.

"It would be easier if he wouldn't act like a mad dog trying to bite right into my throat,” she said softly. "I honestly hoped for one of you to be my husband... But Gods hate me."

__________________________________

One sleepless night was fine, Ivar would rather be dreaming of course, yet this night became one extended moment of ponderance. He embraced it. He felt all the reasons why his soul was so perturbed and asked how he may navigate better. There was yet no response to the questions he had been asking for years.

Ivar felt a very unpleasant tingling within his abdomen; he knew it was caused by his cruelty towards that girl he was supposed to marry soon.

One part of him wanted to search for her and apologise while the other ignored her existence.

Ivar had been torn apart for years. But now his insecurities started escalating.

After rolling all over his bed for some more time, he let out a loud grunt and sat up, looking for the crutches. He realised then that probably one of his thralls moved them aside so they would not fall on the floor, waking him up.

Ivar reached for a black, wool sweatshirt laying at the wooden nightstand and he put it on. After that, he crawled out of his bed and crossed the room to reach the door.

She received her room, which was nice. The whole day she dreamed about a soft bed and some rest, especially after meeting her future husband. He was already so annoying, how was she supposed to spend the rest of her life with him?! Would Gods forgive a murder? Or any other mischievous act that would help her get rid of him quicker? Maybe he could die soon? He was a cripple in the end.

She pushed these thoughts aside and nuzzled to the pillow, covering herself with thick fur. It was time to get some sleep, maybe tomorrow would be better? For sure not, but maybe, so long as she’s got hope, there is always a chance for a better future.

It was hard to fall asleep. When she did fall asleep, she was awake again, it was getting annoying.

At some point, she heard an odd sound and then noticed the door opening.

That was it, her punishment was coming.

It wasn't the punishment though, but it was Ivar himself, crawling into her room. In the first moment, it took her off guard that she almost fell off her bed.

Ivar crawled to her bed, and using his strong arms, he got on it. “Why are you not sleeping?”

"Because someone is crawling into my bed like a snake?” She asked, frowning. "What is it? Did you come here to stab me? Or maybe to strangle me?"

He frowned a little as his hand travelled through his thick hair. “None of these. I came to you because I have rethought my previous outbursts and I have wanted to tell her that I don’t mind you being a girl and speaking your mind but you should rather think twice before you pass judgement.”

The girl listened to him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you don’t mind me being a girl? Oh, thanks Gods because I was scared my soon-to-be husband prefers men," she rolled her eyes.

He cocked his brow, looking at her with pity. “Can you quit being so offended? Believe me, you’re not the only one hurt in this situation.”

Ivar looked at her with his steel-blue eyes. “And if you keep on with being so negative, I can assure you it is not going to work. I like tough girls.”

She blinked surprised by his words. "Me offended? You didn't even come to greet me and once she did, she insulted me, for no reason. I think I have the right to be offended or negative."

“Whatever you say,” Ivar replied and simply reached his hand out to put it to her cheek. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

The girl growled quickly. Honestly, she wanted to bite him in the hand but the kind word surprised her. Smiling a little, she nodded. "Thank you.."

“Would she remind me of her name? I’m afraid that in this entire mess I have lost it somehow.”

"You haven't even heard it once," she reminded him with a smile. "My name is Freya."

Ivar nodded, acknowledging your name. “Suits you very well. You’re the only woman who is more beautiful than the goddess herself.”

She couldn't help but laugh at his words. As nice as they were, it was silly of him to think she was more beautiful than Freya. "Ivar. I wish to be more beautiful than the goddess herself but I am not that beautiful. But…," Freya hummed and gently touched his cheek. "I can honestly say, you are handsome. You have beautiful eyes."

Ivar’s blushing was a kind of flowering, the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination. The colour-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile and his steel eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. “Þakka,” Ivar replied shortly, his eyes never left hers.

Freya giggled and gently caressed his cheek. "Maybe... Would you like to stay here? Talk a little or just get used to each other?” She suggested with a little shrug.

He considered her offer for a long moment, looking up at the ceiling. He knew he had never been good in conversations, especially with women but since the girl was about to become his wife one day, he decided to agree. “If you don’t mind.”

Freya nodded and moved the thick fur aside, letting him join. Once he did, the girl smiled and wrapped the fur around him.

“Thanks,” Ivar replied, laying down on his back. He tried to avoid her glance so he glared up at the ceiling.

She took a deep breath and got comfortable next to him, also looking at the ceiling. "So... Soon we will spend every night like this. Together."

“Apparently,” Ivar replied quietly.

"I never wanted to do this…,” she said quietly. "My father told me about the wedding on our way here. I wanted to run away."

“I bet it would have been even more awful when you realised your future husband is a cripple. It can be seen, today, that your misgivings were justified,” he raised corners of his lips in a sad grin. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first one. Most people here are either afraid of me or take me for a freak.”

"I... I didn't mean to, Ivar. Just…," Freya sighed and shook her head. "Forgive me. I was just scared and surprised. I was brought here without my consent. You may not care because after the wedding you will probably just take care of your stuff. I will be here alone. I am still scared."

He grunted deeply in acknowledgment. “I have nothing to forgive, it’s natural to be afraid of things we do not know,” Ivar slipped a hand under his head to find a more comfortable position. “I understand your concern. But from the moment you were brought here, you’ve gained some new family members. As I saw, you connected well with Ubbe already,” Ivar added nonchalantly. “Don’t be scared. I am aware I have made a very bad first impression though… And I’m sorry for that. It was not my intention to scare you or treat you the way I did, but just as you, I have my concerns, as well.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Once I was told that a real king treats his woman like a queen, one who makes her a "peasant" is a poor imitation of a man. I certainly want to be the first one.”

"Whoever said it was a very smart person and Ubbe… He is nice but that's all," the girl nodded and looked at him. "What concerns do you have?”

“I tend to let people down, not to mention everyone hates me,” Ivar replied openly but frowned shortly after. “I have no idea why I am even speaking about this. “I’m full of rage, you need to be aware of that though,” the man added quickly. “Never be afraid of the rage that is fire, for my fire burns hot and dies very fast. After such an inferno you will be able to walk over the cold ashes to my side and I will be nothing but cooling water for your soul. Should you ever find my rage cold, a frozen fury that burns. So, my dear Freya, be schooled by the flame so that you never know the torment of the ice…”

Freya watched him while listening to his every word carefully. Was she scared? Maybe a little but she could be difficult sometimes too. So maybe they did have something in common, after all.

The girl slowly moved her hand under the furs and then she took his palm gently.

Her action made him turn his head to face her beautiful face. His eyes glistened with little sparkles of reconciliation.

"Let's... Let's just make it work…," she requested quietly. "It's already set in stone for us by our parents. Even if you will never love me…. Let's try at least...," Freya whispered. "Maybe something will change one day. What do you think?”

The switch from reaction to reflection, to arrive at a good response, was signalled by the deep sigh Ivar let through his parted lips. “The only thing that stands between true love and debacle is our capacities for empathy and creative perspective taking,” Ivar replied. “As long as you want to put all of you in this, I’m going to do the very same. I can't guarantee it'll work though but there’s no way to know for sure without trying, right?”

Freya nodded, squeezing his hands. "I promise to put all of me into this, it's not like I have anything else left."

Ivar nodded slowly. "Good. I think we have a deal."

She couldn't help but giggle. "We do. And let's hope it will work just as we want it to work."

#Ivar the Boneless #Ivar the Boneless fic #Ivar the Boneless x female!oc #original female character #Ivar x reader #ivar x female!oc #Ivar Ragnarsson #vikings #vikings x oc #vikings x reader #vikings x female!oc #Ivar's heathen army #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fic rec

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