#king horik

[charming-merlin]

2 new edits I made recently ✨️

[literaryuppsala]

Hello ❤ got a request. Can you please write about reader that used to be married to rollo and one day he just fucks off without telling the reader. Years later he got informed that the reader had gotten pregnant and that it was his child. Rollo wants to go back to be with his "family" but to do that he has to go through a trail of sorts. He agrees to it without knowing what it is. The trail being, him chained to the bed and having to watch as the reader gets fucked by everybody of the ragnarson family. He is close enough where he can hear and see everything but he is not allowed to touch the reader. And at the end he found out that the reader has gotten remarried to ubbe/bjorn/maybe even ragnar??? And that his child doesn't even know him and he gets kicked out 🤤😌

You can choose to do either just the men of the family including ragnar cause I want to see rollo suffer or you can choose to have the mothers/ wives with them.if you want to, have the reader blind folded so she has to guess who it is ❤

Basically make rollos life hell 😂

What a ride... I guess I never wrote something like that, I am THRIVING, it's filthy, it's messy, has a lot of fluids, and dude it took me forever to finish, like always... Anyways, I hope you like it AND YOU WATCHED THE PROCESS SO BE NICE TO ME! Thank you for your ask babe, have fun you pervert.

Warnings: ALL OF THE WARNINGS POSSIBLE, it's complete filth, pure smut, but with a little plot, not a lot, just a little to give context.

Minors, stay the hell away from this one, I'm not joking.

Sweet like justice, karma is a queen.

You were very young when you first met Ragnar and his brother Rollo. Your eyes crossed paths with them on one of their first meetings with your father, Horik. They were handsome, strong warriors, such a sight when you first saw them, caught your attention very quickly. The meetings ended up with an alliance, Horik and Ragnar decided to raid together in England, returning to Norway filled with treasures and a promise of land. 

A feast was prepared to celebrate, the treasures were shared between everyone but Rollo wanted something else, he wanted more. You didn’t mind at first when his eyes caught yours in the middle of the night, didn’t mind when he approached you and offered a cup of ale, you talked until everyone else was already passed out around you and you ended up in his bed that night. 

You really thought he loved you, he proposed to your father who gladly accepted and you married him just a few months later that night. He moved you to Kattegat, bought you a house and introduced you to his family until It became yours. But things changed, he changed. One day you heard about a woman he had in his life, someone he loved but died years before, and you thought that was the reason, that he couldn’t love you completely because part of his heart died with her and you learned to live like that. 

But Rollo was a different man, to be married to him wasn’t easy, he was demanding, ambitious, always thought he should be doing greater things, that he should be bigger. After years of marriage he became very distant and despite having his way with you every night, you were never able to conceive, you thought to yourself that something was wrong with you, that the gods made you that way and that was another reason for your husband to treat you like that. 

“I went to see the healer.” You told him one night. “She gave me a few herbs that can help.”  

“The gods cursed me.” He mumbled. “An empty woman who can not give me any child.” 

Ragnar was the one to always cheer you up, saying that you weren’t the problem, but his brother. He wouldn’t make a good father, he’d say, the gods won’t give him a child to raise. You never told Rollo about these conversations, he hated his brother and the fact that after Horik’s death, he became the king, something he thought belonged to himself. 

 “Your brother was looking for you.” You warned him as you put his plate in front of him at the table. 

“He came here?” He asked without looking at you. 

“Yes, he said It was important.” You continued. “I think it is about going back to Frankia.” You sat in front of him. “You should take me this time.” 

“No.” He answered simply. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s dangerous, and you have no business in Frankia.” 

“I’m a shieldmaiden Rollo, I wasn't made to sit back at home and take care of your children.” 

“What children? You haven’t given me any.”

They left to Frankia the next morning, Rollo left without saying a single word to you and something in your heart broke that day. Months later they came back, you were at the pier waiting, your baby bump showing and a big smile on your face, a few days after their departure you found out you were with child, and you couldn’t wait to tell Rollo about It. But as the ship docked, your smile died on your face. 

“Where is he?” You asked when Ragnar stood in front of you, his hand immediately touching your belly. He didn’t answer, but you knew, he stayed there. 

Later you learned Ragnar was betrayed by Rollo and defeated by Frankia’s army and the last news he had before leaving was about his marriage with a princess. Rollo had abandoned you without a second thought. 

Years later, you grew accustomed to a new life, your son was already five years old and growing stronger each day. Ragnar took care of you, accepting you in his house, he protected you and your child, who he named after one of his good friends, Leif, and he loved your boy, after his own boys grew into strong men, to have yours running around gave him life and so did you. 

You weren’t blind to Ragnar’s affection towards you, after Aslaug’s death he didn’t have anyone in his life except for you and despite being a sight for sore eyes, you weren’t interested on the men in Kattegat, but both of you never tried anything, maybe you felt wrong about that even though Rollo was gone for so long. However, he wasn’t the only one, Bjorn and Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar, and even Sigurd, all had soft spots for you, but you brushed it off and ignored it as something simple as a crush. 

One night, without a warning, a ship docked at the pier. People let Ragnar know about it, and he went there with both Bjorn and Ubbe, just to find a ship from Frankia, from where Rollo jumped. He frowned, confused by his brother’s presence, Rollo looked into his eyes and swallowed hard.

With a grunt Ragnar turned around, silently nodding for his sons to grab Rollo by his arms and drag him to the great hall. As soon as they got there, Ragnar took his place in his throne and Rollo was thrown on his knees, at his feet. You heard the noise from your bedroom in the back and walked towards It, standing in shock when you finally saw the man. Rollo seemed old, his once dark brown hair was filled with gray strands, so was his beard, he widened his eyes as soon as they met yours. 

“Mama!” You heard Leif’s voice and heard his footsteps running towards you, looking for you. He hugged your legs as soon as he found you. You grabbed him in your arms, Rollo’s eyes focused on the boy and a tiny smile showed up on his face, but that was quickly wiped by a punch, thrown by Bjorn. 

“Don’t look at him.” He grunted angrily. 

It didn’t take long for Ivar and Hvitserk to join you in the great hall, none of them seemed happy to see the man in front of them, neither were you. 

“What are you doing here?” Ragnar rasped.

“I want to come back…” He mumbled. 

“Seems funny… After all these years…” 

“I have every right to be here, to be with my family.”

“The family you abandoned…” 

“I’m here now.” 

“You say this like you’re some sort of treasure we should be proud to gain. Tell me, Rollo, what happened in Frankia to make you want to come back?” 

“I heard about my son, I want to know him.”

You hugged your son, like you could protect him from Rollo’s prying eyes.

“He’s not yours.” You growled. “He’s mine, only mine. Didn’t your princess give you any sons?” 

“Brother…” Rollo looked at Ragnar. 

“Don’t talk to him, talk to me, I’m the wife you abandoned!” You insisted but lowered his head again. “This is unbelievable…”

“I want to prove myself.” He answered. “To you…” He looked at Ragnar then moved to you. “And to you.” He sighed. “To the gods… I deserve that!”

It took a few minutes of silence between all of you, Rollo looking around searching for any sign of kindness, but you weren’t one to pity that man, not after everything he put you through. 

“Take Leif to the back.” Ragnar told you. “And come back here.” 

You didn’t understand at first, but nodded and took your son to your bedroom, asking one of the servants to stay there with him. 

“Don’t leave until I come back.” You told her under your breath, locking her inside. 

When you came back you found Rollo tied up to a chair in the middle of the great hall, Ragnar was standing in front of him while his sons waited behind him. He looked over his shoulders and offered his hand to you, you frowned but took it, walking until you were standing by his side. 

Ragnar grabbed you by your waist, startling you who quickly wrapped your arms around his neck for support when he took you in his arms, bride style, taking you to the nearest table, he sat you there, taking his place between your legs. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked under his breath, only for you to hear. 

“I do.” You whispered shyly and he smiled.

Ragnar took a cloth from his pocket and covered your eyes, your breath caught on your throat and you sighed heavily. You felt his hand feather touching your face before moving away from your body and you immediately felt the absence of his warmth. The next thing you felt was a pair of hands on your thighs and a warm breath against your cheeks, before you noticed, someone kissed you. 

The kiss was feverish, filled with a hunger you never experienced before, you’ve never been kissed like that. Teeth and tongue, saliva gathering on the corners of your mouth, a pair of hands meeting the base of your spine pulling you closer to the edge of the table, his thighs between yours keeping your legs open. He stopped the kiss to murmur against your lips.

“Waited so long to do this.”

You recognized Ragnar’s voice before he kissed you again, your mind spinning when your hands met his hips, unconsciously pulling him into you. His hands roamed down your shoulders taking down the sleeves of your dress. You felt a little self conscious and your body tensed, Ragnar distracted you by taking his kisses down your neck and collarbones, making you shiver. A “what’s this…” growled by Rollo sounded in the back of your mind and something twisted inside you, you felt excited.

Ragnar kept kissing down your chest, taking down your dress until your breasts were exposed, your breath hitched and your nipples hardened on the cold of the great hall. His mouth latched at your nipple, sucking on the little nub, your hands met the back of his head and you pressed his face against your chest, wanting more of that sensation. He did the same to the other nipple, using his hand to knead at the free breast.

Between your legs, Ragnar found the skirts of your dress, raising everything up your waist “Open your legs for me.” He asked against your lips and you obeyed, suddenly he moved away from you and stood by your side, your pussy now in full display for Rollo’s widened eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Rollo asked with gritted teeth. 

“What do you think?” Ragnar asked back, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and making you whine. “I’m gonna fuck your wife.” 

With that being said, Ragnar kneeled in front of you, hands rubbing on your calves before putting them on his shoulders. His lips brushed against the side of your inner thighs, his beard scratching the soft skin as he peppered kisses all around until he shoved his face into your bare pussy, licking from your hole to your clit. Your back arched and you gasped, putting your arms behind your back, on the table, for some support, throwing your head back. 

Ragnar was something else while he was eating you out, with a little crowd watching, he wanted to  give them a show. With his face buried into your cunt, he was nosing onto your clit while teasing your hole with the tip of his tongue, then he worked through your folds, long and slow licks like he was savoring you, drinking from you. You suppressed a moan, still self conscious of the others presence surrounding you, earning yourself a low grunt that sent vibrations through your core and a harsh slap on your thighs.

Rollo’s eyes were glued to your body, he was growling under his breath, trying to get rid of the straps binding him to that chair. Ragnar moaned right into your pussy, he moved his tongue quickly and you started to grind your hips on his face, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. His beard was scratching against the soft skin of your pussy, you could feel it rubbing against you painfully while he started sucking on your clit.

Your moans became louder, your hips moved on its own accord, your body was working on automatic, the knot on lower belly forming and tightening. Suddenly, two of his fingers were knuckles deep into your warmth, thrusting up inside you and you gasped: ‘Ragnar’ knowing damn well Rollo was listening to you. Ragnar could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, so he increased his pace, dragging more mewls from your mouth until the knot finally snapped and you groaned loudly. 

Ragnar stood up, turning on his side to stare at a nervous Rollo, his face glistening with your slick, he sucked his fingers clean off your juices and cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. Moving away from between your legs, he held your chin, your fucked out face on full display for his brother’s sight. 

“Open your legs.” He ordered again, and you obeyed, showing off your puffy cunt. “Did you miss this, brother? Did your princess have a better one?”  

Once again he was between your legs, shimming out of his slacks and pulling his cock out. His hands quickly held the back of your thighs and pulled you further to the edge of the table, his tip featherly touching your hole making you whine. 

“See, Rollo…” He grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing it against your pussy and coating himself in your juices. “I don’t think you could ever have anything better.” He pushed himself in and both of you moaned in unison, fresh slick leaking out of you to coat his length. 

Ragnar threw his head back, closing his eyes as he felt your warm walls engulfing him, sinking into you slowly until he’s fully sheathed. He pulled back completely just to slam inside you again, he did that slowly a few times, like he was savoring every inch of you, until he was thrusting up inside you and he didn’t hold back. Holding your hips with one of his hands, the other met the space between your breasts, pushing you back until you laid down on the table. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer.

“Gods…” You moaned, holding onto the table like your life depended on it. 

With your eyes covered, you felt everything more intensely, Ragnar’s body on you, picking up the pace until he was pounding hard into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every thrust. You clenched down on him and he gasped, hand squeezing your hip hard while the other kneaded on your breasts that bounced with every movement of your body. 

When he felt your thighs starting to tremble, he brought his hand to your aching pussy and found your clit, making quick work of your bundle of nerves with the tip of his fingers. You moaned again, loudly, feeling your orgasm approaching you, the knot on your lower belly starting to form. 

“Let go for me.” He begged under his breath. 

With a particular hard thrust the knot snapped, triggering Ragnar’s own release as he pushed himself to a hilt, his body tensing as both of you panted heavily. He leaned forward for a moment spreading kisses all over your stomach before moving away from between your legs, putting his trousers back and holding one of your knees to keep you wide open, his cum dripping from your pussy, onto the table and on the floor. 

“That was...” Ragnar mumbled, three little slaps on your knee had you sitting up straight. 

“Can I-Can I go now?” You heard as Rollo begged.

“What? No…” You felt when Ragnar moved away and heard some shifting around you, the thrilling feeling of not knowing what to expect had your pussy throbbing with need in a way It never did before. “We’re only getting started.”

You gulped, scared about what he meant, but excited at the same time. Next thing you knew, the space between your legs was occupied again, a bulky, slightly familiar body stood there like it belonged there, you shifted on your place, not able to close your legs and feeling again self conscious of your own nudity. 

“Ragnar…” You mumbled under your breath, a pair of hands touched the sides of your face before you were kissed. 

Even though you felt familiarity within the act, that wasn’t Ragnar, that kiss was different, passionate, but still unsure, It felt like he was claiming a new territory. His beard scratched the soft skin on your face, his teeth nipped at your lower lip, you couldn’t help but open up to let him in, you held his face and kissed him back. 

“Can I do this?” He mumbled against your lips and you recognized Bjorn’s voice. You gasped, surprised. 

“Bjorn…” You whispered, your hands started to shake. 

“I’ll be gentle.” He assured you, one of his hands touching the side of your face. “I promise.” 

You felt your heart sinking to your stomach, like it was beating there, the blood in your veins ran fast and your body quivered, your mind was spinning, when his hands found the swell of your pussy you whined in his mouth, turning your head to the side giving him room to work on your neck. Bjorn sucked and nipped your skin like an artist painting his masterpiece, taking his sweet time while his fingers worked through your cum wet folds. 

He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that another man just fucked you minutes ago, by the feeling of it, he seemed turned on. Two of his fingers entered you when his mouth found your perky nipple and you moaned, arching your back offering him more of your chest. You were overstimulated from your previous orgasm and the sensations Bjorn was bringing to you, your peak wouldn’t take long so you clenched around his fingers and worked your hips in sync with his movements. With his thumb he started to nurse on your clit, rubbing the small bead in tight circles until you came on his fingers, a loud, long moan filling the great hall. 

Bjorn wasted no time after this, you felt him standing up and shimming out of his trousers, sinking into you in one swift motion. You gasped, not used to the way he stretched you out, and threw your head back, making room for him to kiss on your neck. He sheathed inside you, not pulling out immediately, just grinding against your hips first, his hip bone teasing your clit. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and arched your back, leaning back over your hands. He used both of his hands to grab your breasts then leaned forward to catch one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking on the perky buds. It was messy. Wet with your own arousal and Ragnar’s cum, you could feel it dripping from your core. 

Slowly, Bjorn pulled out completely, just to thrust back in. He did this a few times, dragging soft mewls from your mouth. With his hand between your breasts he made you lay down on the table once more, picking up his pace. You held onto the table while he started to rut against you with full force, your body jolting back and forth. His mouth was skillful on your nipple, going from one to the other and still using his hands. 

“You feel so good…” He mumbled, one of his hands leaving your breasts and quickly finding your clit. 

You moaned loudly. With two of his fingers he pinched your clit, then dragged his finger around in tiny circles. The pressure on your belly started to build and you squeezed your eyes shut, even though you weren’t actually with them open to start with. Your mind could only focus on his movements, you clenched around his cock and he growled, speeding up his fingers and his thrusts. Bjorn was fucking the air out of your lungs as he fucked you like his life was on the line, his cock throbbed inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin was filling the great hall and was so loud. 

“Enough.” 

Somewhere, on the back of your mind, you heard Rollo’s beg, but as your climax approached you could only think of this. Bjorn’s thrusts started to falter, he became sloppier as he chased his own release and you were right behind him, feeling the pressure on your body finally explode. You came around his cock, clenching down on him with a wanton moan. He came right after you, feeling you to the brim with his seed, grunting raspily. 

He wobbled away from you and you whined at the sudden emptiness. He leaned against the table trying to catch his own breath, eyes still on your fucked out body on the table. Unconsciously, your hands went to the cloth on your eyes, almost getting out of the way but a cold hand on yours stopped you. You whined impatiently but before you had the chance to complain, the same hand grabbed a handful of your hips, dragging you out of the table until you stood on the ground.

There was this silence, the only thing in your mind being the amount of pleasure going through your veins, you could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly while you tried to ease your body. Your hands traveled to the body in front of you, holding his shoulders while he kept his firm on your hips. 

You had no idea who he was, you felt his body against yours, the familiar scent you were used to feeling but couldn’t recognize him. His hips met yours and you felt his hard cock against your core, making you moan. Taking your face with both of his hands he kissed you. His kiss was calm, soft even, nothing like the sexual spiral you just got out of. His hands explored the sides of your body with care, like you would vanish from his sight at any moment. 

The mess between your legs made you painfully aware of what just happened, either way his fingers found their way to your core, his tips exploring your folds, he coated his fingers in the your slick, the mixed cum inside your pussy, then he pushed his middle one all the way in, til he was knuckle deep inside you. You sobbed and threw your head back when he started to kiss down your jaw so you could give him more space.

His kisses met your neck, he circled your clit and that made you jerk in response. Suddenly his fingers were inside your mouth and you whined at the taste on your tongue. You started sucking on his fingers, obscenely licking through it and he groaned when under his breath, you licked him clean.

He stretched you out with his fingers, pumping in and out of you as he kissed down your chest, your body arching, right thigh rising up his waist opening up a little more for him. He curled his fingers up finding your sweet spot and making you see stars behind your eyelids. You started to grind down on his fingers while the sound of your moans resonated around the great hall. He licked down your collarbones and your legs started to shake, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

You felt like your body was on fire, shaking violently until the knot snapped and your orgasm hit you like a punch. You  clenched hard on his fingers, body falling limp on the table, but before you had the chance to ride your own high, your body was pushed and turned around, your back hitting his chest, you could feel his hard cock on your behind, listening while he struggled with his trousers, pulling down his legs til the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock from its confines. He teased you with the tip between your ass cheeks and you teased back, grinding on his hips, silently begging for him to just slide in. 

He lined his cock to your wet folds, enticing another moan from you and then he pushed in, his tip stretching your walls. You gasped, fingers holding the table for support while you felt him sliding only a few more inches in. His hand rubbed up your back until he grabbed the nape of your neck, you grunted feeling him leaning your body forward, your breasts pressed against the head of the table while he started to thrust up into you. 

He was fully inside you when he used his free hand to pinch on your clit, making your body jolt, your walls fluttered around him, a choked whine slipped through your lips as he went deeper. He picked up his pace quickly, hands now on your shoulders tugging your body back to meet his thrusts, your body trembling when you felt the pleasure building up once again, extremely sensitive from everything that already happened to you. You both moaned loudly, he was lost on you just like you were on him, every thrust was powerful and deep, stroking every nerve ending inside your pussy. His hips slapped against yours, the table shaking with his movements. 

“Gods…” You cried out, feeling the pressure on your lower belly. 

He cursed under his breath, feeling your walls clenching hard around his length, his own climax coming through while you felt the first impact of your orgasm. Your entire body froze as he fucked you through the haze, coming inside you a few seconds later. 

“That’s your idea of punishment?” Rollo growled, his voice far away like It was in another room, your mind still dizzy with pleasure. “Are you punishing me or her?” 

“Her?” Ragnar scoffed. “I’m not punishing her, brother. Watch It… She likes it. She wanted It.” 

You felt a pair of hands wrapping around your waist and your body was gently sat on the table again, the mess between your legs just growing by the minute, staining the soft skin of your thighs and leaving you slightly bothered. A kiss on your forehead had you trembling even more, so you raised your hand trying to hold his.

“Who…?” You couldn’t finish the phrase, but your hand was softly removed and you were left alone. 

“It’s done, I’m done!” Rollo tried one more time.

You heard Rollo’s begs one more time, his voice was shaky and you imagined his face. If you remembered correctly at this point he would be all red and sweaty and your tummy twisted with excitement, you shouldn’t like this as much as you were.  

“Well… We’re not.” Ragnar answered carefully. 

For a moment nothing happened, you sat there with your body trembling. The line between pleasure and pain was thin and your body had started to complain about It. Suddenly you felt someone taking the place between your legs one more time but despite being so tired, your mind seemed to have other plans, your skin prickled at the warmth engulfing you, another familiar scent wrapping your whole body. 

He didn’t waste any time, he kissed you… Kissed you like he craved you, feverishly. His lips moved in sync against yours while his hands roamed through your sweaty body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugged him with your legs feeling his hard cock against your abused cunt. You were too sensitive, your body was hot all over, and even though It was telling you It couldn’t take it any longer, your fucked out brain wanted more. 

You grinded against his hips and started to fumble with his trousers until you freed his cock from its confines. You grabbed at his length and he moaned in your mouth, waiting for you to align the head of his cock against the pulsing entrance of your pussy and you cried out at the new intrusion, feeling incredibly sore. 

Overwhelmed by pleasure, you started to grind against his hips again, urging him to fuck you. With both of his hands on your hips, he set an excruciatingly slow rhythm, distracting you with his mouth on your neck, he started to paint your skin in dark bruises. You cried again, threw your head back while letting your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulders to anchor yourself, like his body was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from floating away. 

With one of his hands, he started to play with your clit, massaging the sensitive nub between his fingers, dragging more mewls from your lips, making you writhe against his strong grip. His cock was unrelenting, picking up his pace as he started to fuck you hard and deep, your sensitivity only amplifying the waves of pleasure that crossed your veins. Your pussy fluttered around his length and he knew you were close, hips bucking to meet his thrusts, the spongy head of his cock was pressing directly against your g-spot and you moaned loudly. 

You felt his hand snaking up your chest until it found your neck and he pressed for a moment, your breath hitched, caught up in your throat and you clenched down on him. You got lightheaded and his thrusts became sloppier, you could feel he got lost in yourself very quickly and arousal twisted in your stomach, you felt flattered. 

He gave a chucked off groan and for a moment you imagined who it could be, which one of them was fucking you this time, the great hall was filled with his grunts and the wet squelch of your pussy. 

“Faster… Please…” You managed to mumble. 

Your pussy was clenching desperately around his cock and he was throbbing inside you, he was close too, you could feel it. He fucked you hard and faster until he sheated tightly into your pussy holding you in place as he came, triggering your own orgasm. You came so hard your mind went blank, your body spasmed and you went limp in his arms. He held you strongly so you wouldn’t fall, your head on his shoulders as you breathed heavily. He rubbed your back for a minute before he pulled out and after making you sure you were firm, sitting on the table, he left. 

“I-I… Ragnar…” You raised your hand blindly and seconds later you felt his fingers intertwined with yours.

“You’re doing great for me, my love.” He whispered, lips on your sweaty forehead. “Can you give me one more?”

“I don’t know…” You breathed.

“I know you can, you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” He kissed your lips. “Give me one more so we can take care of you.” 

We. You noticed the weird choice of word and felt him when he kissed your knuckles. We. What did he mean by that? Your thoughts were cloudy when his warmth surrounded you again, he picked you up in his arms and you immediately wrapped yours around his neck, laying down your face on his shoulders, letting him carry you wherever. 

Ragnar sat you down on someone’s lap, when you felt a pair of shaky legs right under your body and nervous hands wrapping around your waist. He turned you around, made you put one of your knees on each side of that body and just like that he left. There was a nervous silence between you two, but you were close enough to feel his shaky breath against your cheeks. 

Suddenly, he used one of his hands to take off your blind fold, you blinked your tears away, trying to get used to the new brightness. You focused on the image in front of you and met Ivar’s widened eyes staring back at you. Ivar was nervous, but you could sense his arousal in the way that he watched you, intently following down your body, from your face to your collar bones and your chest, your soft belly and your exposed core, he gulped. 

You stayed like that for a moment, only looking at each other like you were trying to read each other’s minds, you almost forgot about the little crowd watching you two but as his eyes wandered over your shoulders you were reminded. 

“C-Can I kiss you?” He stuttered and you nodded dumbfounded. His lips touched yours slightly, shaky and cold, you didn’t kiss him back at first, then he pulled back, looking at you with a frown and a little pout. “You don’t want to…”

“No!” You were quick to respond. “I want to. I really want to, Ivar.” You reassured him and his expression softened.

You cradled his face between your hands and kissed him, this time deeply, your tongue teasing his as you felt his hands pressing on waist, pressing your body down. When you pulled away, he was gone, glossy eyes staring back at you as he choked out a whimper, following your face with his eyes still closed, reaching for your lips. 

He sighed and opened his eyes, he frowned again, so impatient. You touched his lips with your thumb, fluffy and wet from your last kiss and he licked the tip, you shuddered. Being that close he seemed so young to you, kinda lost in his own feelings and sensations, so different from the Ivar you knew, he always seemed so sure of himself. 

Ivar opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but as you rolled your hips down his lap he gasped, that seemed to erase every trace of thought in his head, he just closed his eyes and whimpered, throwing his head back. You used the chance to latch onto his neck, groaning quietly against his skin. Gods, you were soaked. It was definitely not like you hadn’t been fucked into oblivion by four men already, you were ready to get lost one more time. You licked his skin, sucked and nipped, leaving behind tiny red marks, basking in the sounds he was making. 

“Can I?” You asked him and he nodded, that was the only permission you needed to come back to his neck, to start rolling your hips over again. 

The rumors about the young man not being able to satisfy a woman were the biggest lie, you thought to yourself. You could feel him getting hard under your body and the thought of having him inside you was driving you mad. 

“I’m so wet for you, Ivar.” You murmured against his ear, only for him to hear you and he whimpered again, thrusting up his hips a bit. 

“For me?” He whispered breathlessly and you nodded, tracing his lips with your thumb again before kissing him feverishly. 

“Yes.” You grabbed his hand and put it between your bodies, his fingers met with your core, rubbing the mess of fluids on your pussy. “Will you help me?” 

He nodded, dumbfounded. You used your hand between your bodies to grab his cock and started jerking slowly, his lips parted as he gasped for air. The fact that these small touches were bringing so much pleasure to him was even more exciting to you. Your faces are so close you can feel his breath against your cheeks, your lips almost touch and his fingers trembled between your legs, nervously moving between your folds. 

Abruptly, you intensified your movements, he choked out a groan and closed his eyes, precum was leaking from his tip, making it easier for you to slide your hand up and down his cock, that pulsed and twitched in your hand. Quickly you moved it away, standing up a bit to line up his cock with your entrance, he looked at you like you were some sort of goddess, silently worshiping you, shaky hands wrapping around your waist as you sat down his length. 

“Gods… Please…” He groaned when he felt your warm walls engulfing him. 

You placed your hand on his shoulders as you fucked yourself over his cock, slowly moving your hips up and down. You brought his hand back down your body and started to use his fingers to massage your clit.

“Like this?” He asked in awe. 

“Yes…” You answered under your breath. 

Quickly you started to bounce on his cock, riding him like your life depended on it. The great hall was filled with Ivar’s small grunts and your breathy moans. You squeeze at his shoulders and threw your had back, he kept his fingers in your clit, drawing hard circles on your little nub just like you taught him and you could feel him twitching inside you, you knew he was close and so were you. 

You moaned with every thrust, you hunched over and kissed him, his arms wrapped around your waist and he pushed you down on his cock. You felt his release and he moaned loudly against your mouth. Your own high coming down hard on you as you clenched on him, cumming for what felt like the thousandth time that night. 

You laid down on his shoulder for a moment, trying to ease your breathing as you came down from your orgasm. He hugged you tightly, thumb drawing small circles on your back and you could fall asleep right there, you closed your eyes and your consciousness almost abandoned you for a moment, that’s when you felt someone taking you up from Ivar’s lap and you whined, feeling empty and sore. 

“I’ll take care of you.” Ragnar mumbled in your ear. “Take him out, we don’t want him here.” 

You imagined he was referring to Rollo who was finally silent, or maybe you just stopped listening to your surroundings. In Ragnar's arms you did fall asleep, waking up again only when you felt a warm cloth between your legs, you quickly moved away from the touch but was stopped by a pair of hands on your legs. 

“I’m just cleaning you up.” Ragnar told you and you opened your eyes, finding him sitting by your side, you looked around and recognized his bedroom, the furs were soft against your skin and you were extremely tired. 

“Was I good?” You asked under your breath, reaching out for his hand, which he really took, taking it to his lips, spreading kisses all over it. 

“So good...” He said it against your skin and you smiled tiredly. 

After cleaning you up he snuggled by your side, covering your bodies with fur and putting your head on his chest, rubbing your hair as you slowly fell back to sleep. 

“Our best girl.” Was the last thing you heard before drifting into slumber. 

***

[bjornironsidelothbrok]

Bjorn Lothbrok, better known as Bjorn Ironside is the firstborn son of Ragnar with his first wife Lagertha, a famous and great shield-maiden. He is the half-brother of Hvitserk, Ivar, Ubbe and Sigurd and has a father-son like relationship with the boat builder Floki, who is an old friend of Ragnar and Lagertha. He's the former king of Kattegat and lost the election for King of Norway to Harald. He is a descendant of Odin, as are his father and brothers. Bjorn is a great warrior in all respects, just like his father. As a young child he tries to keep his parents from fighting. He also wants to become a man in society so he can go on raids with his father and uncle. Norse society adheres to the belief that a “real man” is a killer, so Bjorn is eager for the chance to fight to prove his manhood. This is evident in how when he’s asked what a man does, his first answer is, “He fights.” Ragnar approves of this response, but nevertheless reminds him that they do more as well. Like all children, Bjorn has his moments of being a bratty kid. This happens especially around Athelstan. Like most of Norse society, Bjorn scorns him for being a Christian and a slave. He is shown to be indifferent and even cruel towards Athelstan. Thankfully, Bjorn grows out of it, and openly laments Athelstan’s death. He thoroughly rebukes King Horik’s cruel words about the priest being a traitor and worthless individual. At times, Bjorn seems to be the reasonable one in his family. Unlike his father, he appears to be much more in-tune with the emotions of those around him, which becomes even more apparent when he grows older. As an adult, Bjorn is Ragnar’s most trusted lieutenant and right-hand man. He shows extreme loyalty to Ragnar even after years of separation. With the death of Ragnar, Bjorn becomes arguably the most renowned Viking in Christendom aside from possibly his mother. With his own people, him merely stepping into Kattegat was enough to shock everyone. The only person who is not frightened of him is Ivar, and even Ivar will later admit to Bishop Heahmund that he is a little scared of Bjorn.Like most Viking men, Bjorn yearns for glory on the battlefield and a place in Valhalla. He is passionate about fighting and eager to battle. He is a highly skilled warrior, even when he is young. He was strong enough to match Rollo in a drunken brawl and in his first battle is fast enough to get through without ever been struck. The true testament of Bjorn’s prowess as a warrior comes during his time alone in the wilderness. He survives for several months in the icy mountains, manages to track down and kill a bear with only a hatchet and knife, and outwits and overpowers a supposedly invincible Berserker who was sent to assassinate him. He calms down a bit after. Bjorn tends to be the most emotionally stable of the brothers. He is noticeably much more mellow and agreeable as an adult than he was as a child. Bjorn has a somewhat different personal code than most other Viking men. He refuses to rape women in raids or slaves. After his time living in the wilderness, Bjorn tends to act cold and distant to most people. While he still is a lot less willing than most Vikings to kill or throw away lives without need, he has definitely hardened since he was a kindly young adult. It’s clear that Bjorn doesn’t have his father’s intelligence or penchant for outside-the-box thinking. When he realizes that Ragnar doesn’t trust him to follow in his footsteps, this prompts Bjorn to strike out on his own and do some traveling to prove his worth to both himself and Ragnar. He takes great pride in his battle scars, bearskin cloak, and tattoos. His tattoos and hairstyle are clearly modelled after the ones Ragnar had in his younger years. Bjorn’s courage, deep devotion to his parents, and unshakeable code of honor are all similar to the personality of the god Baldr. He has been the new head of the family since his father's death and, like his father, sails under the Raven Banner.

[synintheraven]

Research Rabbit-hole Tag Game!

Rules: As writers, we all end up researching random things for our writing. Share the latest thing you've researched for your fic and tell us something you learned!

Haven't been into these tag games lately but I actually have something to say about this one so I'll jump in :p Thanks for the tag @lord-aldhelm <3

What I Researched:

Ragnar Lothbrok and his story

Sigurd Hringr (Ragnar's father)

King Arthur's sword and its legend

What I Found Out:

Half of what is said about Ragnar (as in, that he's done) has been historically proven it was done by someone else (King Horik among them), however there was a relatively popular Lord and raider named Ragnall which is believed was at some point mixed with the legendary Ragnar - Ragnall certainly didn't die in a pit of snakes (nor was it a common practice anyway) but most likely raiding the shores of England or Ireland. - Also I made myself a tumblr page so I could easily keep track of what I find about him so if you're curious >here< is a bit more about this legendary dude :p (wildly different to Vikings' version, I must add)

Not the one I'm the most interested in, but I was curious to learn about Ragnar's background and the fact that his father was king of Sweden and, eventually, of Denmark. Funnily enough, his father died (or presumably sailed to his own death by being on a pyre boat) after one of his younger lovers died/was killed.

I had no idea there was an alternative story as to how Arthur got the sword; the one I knew about all my life was that he got the sword from that rock, but apparently there's another version (or the same but later on the story?) where he finds the sword at the bottom of some pond/lake and had to prove himself worthy of it to a sort of protector/witch/nymph that was guarding the sword.

No pressure tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon and uhm whoever else sees this and feels like doing it :p

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 5 — forbirnan (to burn)

summary: fess up bitches

warnings: graphic violence, angst, disgusting ass fluff

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world

general masterlist | series masterlist

Athelstan

The shadow of Alethia made itself known as Athelstan wandered towards the encampment of the Northmen.

“Hello, Bjorn. Do you remember me?” Athelstan greeted. Bjorn had grown since they’d last seen each other. It stung to remember that Alethia was only a few years older than him, and yet, so much more tired.

“Of course I remember you.” Bjorn replied bluntly. So he was still the same, Athelstan thought with a smile. “I wanted to kill you when I was a child. And then I loved you.”

“I know you were close to your uncle.” Athelstan said, before raising his voice. “I want you all to know that Rollo is alive, wounded, but alive and being taken care of. King Horik.”

“Why have you come, Athelstan?” the Viking king asked him. “Did you escape?”

“I came here to talk to you.”

“King Ecbert sent you. You do his bidding. You are one of them.” Horik observed. Alethia would have made a snarky remark here, Athelstan thought. He shook the thought. He had to think of something other than her. His job, his mission.

“He offers you a chance for peace. He wants to talk of many things with you. Good things.” Athelstan promised.

“Yes, and then kill us.” Horik snorted.

“No. He will not, I swear. I know him.”

“You are his dog. You lick his fingers. You lick his asshole.” Horik insulted. Athelstan bit his tongue, like always. When would the blood run down his chin?

“I really like your new clothes, Athelstan, and your hair. Very nice.” Floki teased, looking Athelstan up and down.

“Is he prepared to offer us a hostage?” Horik continued.

“Yes. He wants to reassure you, in any way he can, of his honest intentions.” Athelstan explained.

“Then we will meet him.” Ragnar said suddenly, and Athelstan breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his friend.

“Who are you to say?” Horik interrupted.

“You do not need to come. Ragnar and I will go, and if Ecbert means to kill us, so be it.” Athelstan sighed.

“I will give him your answer.” Ragnar told King Horik, before he crossed the distance and turned to Athelstan. “I will accompany you. Part of the way.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ragnar smiled at Athelstan more easily. “It is good to see you. I feared that you were dead.”

“There were times that I wish I had been.” Athelstan confessed. “I gave into despair.”

“So have you returned to your faith, renounced ours?” Ragnar asked curiously. The pressure that always seemed to emanate from the man returned with a sudden intensity that Athelstan almost cringed away from it.

“I wish it was so simple.” Athelstan said, remembering everything that Alethia had told him about her beliefs, and how complicated they were. At least he was not alone in his struggles. “In the gentle fall of rain from heaven, I hear my God, but in the thunder, I still hear Thor. That is my agony.”

“I hope that someday our Gods can become friends.” Ragnar replied, as if it was that simple. “I have something to return to you. You are safe to go now, but I will see you very soon.”

Athelstan took the armring from Ragnar with a relieved smile. Finally, it was his again. “Thank you, friend.”

When Athelstan returned to the villa, the first thing he did was to search for Alethia. He needed her reassurance, to hear her thoughts on the matter. In a way, it was so that he would not be so alone with his own.

And yet, he barely had any time to rest before he was sent away from her again, to lay out the terms of King Ecbert in front of Ragnar.

He translated as dutifully as he could, trying to hide his straying mind. It escaped everyone taking part in the negotiations. Everyone but Ragnar of course, who watched Athelstan with narrowed eyes. At the end of it, Ragnar stayed behind, waiting until he and Athelstan were alone.

“I am taking my brother home.” Ragnar began carefully. “Will you come back with us or will you stay here with your people?”

Athelstan thought for a moment.

“I want you to come back.” Ragnar blurted out.

What of Alethia? Would she come North with him?

“There is one thing I must resolve.” Athelstan told him. Ragnar grinned, clapping Athelstan’s back.

“Of course, Athelstan. We shall all be happy to have you back.”

Athelstan wasn’t so sure about that.

Still, the excitement grew in his stomach as he marched for the library, where he knew he would find Alethia.

And indeed, Alethia sat at one of the small tables, quietly studying the tongue of the Northmen.

“I am leaving for Kattegat.” Athelstan announced. He was glad that Alethia could come. She would prefer Kattegat, the Northern way of life. He knew her pride was wounded by those men that still looked down on her. In Kattegat, things would be different. “Will you come?”

“North?” Alethia asked, and Athelstan nodded. She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. 

“Yes, I’d like that, I think. I want to meet all of your friends, most of all Lagertha.” Alethia replied. “And who would bother you about vocabulary without me?”

“Pack your things.” Athelstan said. “The Northmen leave soon.”

“Do they know of me?”

“No, but they will accept you.” Athelstan assured. “Ragnar will like you, and so will Lagertha and Bjorn, no doubt.”

Alethia’s hands wrung together, and she looked to the piece of parchment she’d scribbled full.

“Hey.” Athelstan said quietly. He stepped closer when she did not respond, taking her hands. Her fingertips were stained blue, fingers cold from writing for so long. Her pinkie was still bandaged from where it had been broken in the battle. “They’ll like you, alright. Your Norse is good.”

“Not as good as yours.”

“Not everyone can be as perfect as me.” Athelstan joked. Alethia snorted, but her hands still wrapped around his, holding them gently.

“Thank you.” she whispered. “For not leaving me behind.”

“I would never do that.” Athelstan replied earnestly. 

“You go ahead, I’ll find my things.” Alethia said, a smile tugging at her lips. Her cheeks were slightly red with excitement, and a glint of happiness had returned to her eyes. There were few things Athelstan was more proud of. 

Alethia made for the door, when, Athelstan wasn’t even sure why, he caught her hand. She paused, turning around to him with wide eyes. Those eyes, green as the forests of his childhood home, they were going to be the death of him.

And suddenly, Athelstan understood.

“God.” he whispered. “Lord, how have I been so blind?”

Alethia’s eyes narrowed in confusion, flickering from his face to his hands, still holding hers, back to his face again. Then, she seemed to understand.

Athelstan waited for her rejection. Instead, her hands grasped his again. 

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t-” Athelstan began. However many scrolls he had read, they were not enough. The words escaped him, his throat too tight to speak.

“Me neither. I don’t… Athelstan .”

The world did not move, nothing at all breathed. Nothing was alive but them, and Athelstan felt as if the Earth beneath him could fall away at any moment. He wished he could move. He wished he could-  He wished he knew. 

What…

Alethia’s chest rose with her breaths, eyes unwavering, lips slightly parted as she released a huff of air shakily. One of her hands left Athelstan’s, slowly travelling up. She paused, her fingers almost touching his face.

Athelstan could not stop her. Vows be damned, any God at all be damned, he could not stop her. He did not want to. He wanted to, God, why didn’t he know?

“Is this alright?” Alethia whispered, her hand cupping his face gently, thumb stroking his cheekbone. The places she touched him burned .

This was right. It had to be. If not this, then what?

Athelstan nodded. He did not know what else to do, frozen in place.

Alethia leaned forward, and kissed him gently. And suddenly, he understood. He understood why there had been wars waged for women, he understood why his heart ached and his hands shook each time he came too close to Alethia. Why he could get lost in her eyes, and why he felt safe when he was with her. Why he was not alone when they were together.

It was a short kiss, gentle and shallow, and Alethia’s lips left his before he could even blink.

It was everything. He wanted more.

And then, Athelstan could move again. His hands reached up to mirror Alethia’s, one along her cheek, the other on her neck. He could feel her pulse under his palm, beating wildly. There was no need to know, to even think.

Kissing her was instinct. Her lips were on his again, and Athelstan moved without having to think, pulling Alethia closer to him, until her body was flush against his, and her warmth was his to share.

Athelstan wanted to hold her like she was gentle, and so, he did, touches featherlight. He was patient, he could take his time with her, love her as she deserved. As he did. 

Their kiss deepened slowly, sweet like honey. He could feel Alethia smile against his lips, and Athelstan could not help but mirror her. She gave him another quick kiss, before her forehead touched his, and Alethia laughed softly.

By God, the sound of it. He loved it. He loved her .

They stood like that for a long time, neither saying a thing, before the churchbells outside pulled them out of the moment, and Alethia gave him another kiss, as if it was habit and not catastrophically, perfectly new.

“Go ahead, Athelstan.” she whispered. “I’ll follow you.”

“Goodbye.” Athelstan replied. “Until tonight.”

“Tonight.” Alethia promised. “Athelstan?”

“Yes, Alethia?”

“Do you feel guilty?” she asked carefully.

“No, I don’t.” Athelstan replied. The question was the easiest of his life.

“Good.” Alethia sighed. And then again, “Good. I could not bear it. I… I did not realize until just now but…”

“Yes. Me too.” Athelstan assured. He took her hand as they always did, lips brushing over her knuckles. “Go.”

Alethia nodded, making for the door, before she turned back the second time that day, almost running towards him. She half-crashed into Athelstan, kissing him thrice and laughing all the while.

She was happy.

Athelstan felt warm, joy filling him with a suddenness that almost overwhelmed him.

Alethia

Her hands shook as she packed her few meagre belongings. Dresses, tunics, breeches, shifts, they were all pushed into a pack, her fingers almost too unsteady to tie it. She was giddy with excitement, still not sure if what had just happened was even real.

It couldn’t be, right? She hoped it was. That her mind was not just playing tricks on her in her grief.

Alethia thought of Jon, who she had loved so much. So dearly. Whose child she had carried. He was a whisper at the back of her mind, one that only filled her with pain to think of.

But Athelstan… Athelstan took up the whole night sky, shining light onto the darkest chasms of Alethia’s mind. He was warm, and kind, and gentle and he was there . For her.

A home within reach, a heart that beat the same as hers. And all the jealousy, all the fluttering anxiety for his approval that she had felt during their lessons, as soon as Kwentrith had arrived - Alethia knew now that it was neither jealousy nor need for approval. It was falling in love.

Though, she could not call it falling, for Athelstan was too gentle for that. Gentle.

Alethia smiled, her lips widening before she could stop it. How she had longed for that. To be treated as if she was precious. Athelstan knew. He knew, didn’t he?

Her sword was already around her waist when Alethia pushed the door of her chamber open, not caring to take one last look at the room. She didn’t have to.

The sun was beginning to sink outside, finally, and how beautiful it was - crimsons and oranges lighting the sky on fire, soft purples and blues beginning to draw in on the horizon. It was a warm night in the beginning of summer, and the air smelled like hope. 

Alethia stepped towards the gates of the villa, nodding at the guards, when suddenly, a voice made her turn.

“Alethia!”

It was King Ecbert. She faced the king, whose hands were spread out in front of him. His usual smile was on his face, and Alethia shuddered.

“King Ecbert.”

“What are you doing?” Ecbert asked.

“Going for a walk.” Alethia lied quickly. She should have taken another way out, but Alethia had expected the Saxons to be drunk on their victory. Well, most of them were, apart from Ecbert, apparently.

“You wish to leave for Kattegat with Athelstan.” he said. Alethia stepped backwards, making for the gates. 

“And what of it?” She replied. Alethia turned, running for the gates. Behind her, Ecbert shouted. 

Alethia saw as the doors to freedom slowly swung closed, and she ran, ran as hard as she could, in hopes of just somehow making it through.

Her injured shoulder collided with the closed gates, and Alethia bit her tongue through the pain. She looked to Ecbert, who was smirking at her with that disgustingly smug smile. Alethia would not be stopped so easily.

She stepped towards the walls, upon which the guards waited, and began to climb. Her fingers burned, her palms began to bleed, and she looked up, only up. She had no other choice.

Below you is a bottomless pit. Will you fall, or will you climb?

The guards were waiting for her at the top, and Alethia drew her sword. They pushed her back, holding her over the railing until her upper half was almost suspended in the air.

Would she die if she fell?

Even if she did not, Alethia didn’t want to break her neck, to potentially render herself disabled. She stilled, waiting until the guards released the pressure. Only then did she wind herself from their grip.

Her sword was gone, but Alethia had a knife in her boot, and that was all she needed. With a few movements, the two that had caught her were dead. Alethia looked back into the yard of the villa, where Ecbert was still staring at her. He did not look surprised, and that made her feel sick.

That he was right about her. That Ecbert knew of the monster she was.

Athelstan did not.

Alethia would rather die than tell him, if she still could. She descended over the wall on the other side, and began to ran. She knew how fruitless it was, but she still told herself that she could do it.

Could make it.

As a ranger, she knew how to make sure that the hounds Ecbert would no doubt send after her would loose her scent.

She made for the river the washerwomen used, wading upstream, praying that her headstart was enough. Did she even know where to go?

South. Always south. That was where the vikings were. Where Athelstan was.

It was where Ecbert would send his men. They knew the land, and they’d catch her, no matter how many she killed. At some point, they would overwhelm her, and drag her back to the villa.

With a sinking feeling in her chest, Alehtia knew that she would not make it to Athelstan or the Northmen. They were leaving at nightfall, and King Ecbert’s men would be waiting up for her close to the camp.

The Northmen did not care for her enough to not turn her over - even if Athelstan put in a word for her.

Alethia wiped her tears and turned North.

North was Mercia. War.

And because there was war, it was a good hiding place. The irony of it all was not lost on Alethia. 

Alethia walked, watching as the sun set to her West. She bit her tears down, and kept going, distancing herself from King Ecbert’s villa as fast as she could. She walked into the night, into the dark, and kept going. 

The sound of wolves tore apart the forests of England, and Alethia shivered, both from the cold and the thought that Athelstan was gone. He was at sea now, with Ragnar and Lagertha and all the rest of the free people.

She was here, in a forest somewhere between Mercia and Wessex. Alethia walked until her knees began to give out and the thicket was too thorny to continue in the night. 

She made camp where she was, careful to use wood that would not produce a lot of smoke and prayed that the wolves would not tear her apart.

By marriage, Alethia was a Stark. Quarter, at least. The thought could not comfort her in this moment. When she was warm enough to survive the night, Alethia reduced the flame until it was barely enough to keep her warm. She did not sleep, to afraid that Prince Aethelwulf would ride up to her with a patrol and take her back to the villa.

Ecbert would not hesitate to chain her to a wall and starve her until she provided the answers he wanted. Alethia knew that, and it made her skin prickle with fear, with the feeling of being watched - no matter how irrational it was.

So, she stayed awake, and when the first signs of dawn began to show themselves early in the morning, she began walking again. It was summer, so Alethia knew that it could be well before five in the morning.

Her body ached with exhaustion, but her feet trudged through the forest, and she used her hands to guide her where her eyes could not.

When the sun rose, Alethia stumbled onto a small field. Stalks of wheat swayed softly in the grass, and the sun rose to her east. In the distance, she saw straw-thatched roofs. A village, perhaps of 120 people. They had a church, too, likely for the surrounding villages.

“What a metropolis.” Alethia mumbled to herself. 

She could keep going. She was less than a day’s horse ride from Ecbert’s villa. 

Alethia was hungry, exhausted and cold. No one knew her here. Word would not travel South, when that was where Ecbert had thought she was go. No one would look for her here.

Still, Alethia took the knife from her boot, lips pressing into a thin line as she cut her hair. She could not stop the tears that spilled.

Athelstan liked her hair. She knew that. It fell to the ground, blending together with the golden stalks of wheat. There, on the earth, it was barely discernible. She kept going, until her hair was cut to her shoulders and no longer reached down her back.

It would make her look less like she could afford to live in a villa like Ecbert’s. And then came the hard part. Alethia pulled up the leg of her breeches, making a cut. She hissed as the blood spilled from her shin, but she had to make it look believable.

Using her hands, Alethia smeared the blood over her forearms, staining her shirt. Then came her face. She pretended she was an artist, and not desperate. That she was painting her face with makeup, preparing to go out on a date somewhere in Berlin. Maybe a chinese place. She’d have xialongbao and complain they weren’t as good as they’d be in Shanghai, kiss a handsome stranger and forget all about the only two men she’d ever loved.

Alethia stood, hunching her shoulders. She hung her head in defeat, staring at the ground. When the rooster crowed thrice, she began to walk towards the village. By the time she made it to the small square in the middle of it, people were already awake, some getting water from the fountain, others exchanging goods. 

A young man with striking blue eyes noticed her first, automatically drawing his sword.

“Who are you?” he demanded

“Where am I?” Alethia said slowly, pretending she did not know.

“Wantage.” the man said hesitantly. He took in her appearance, slowly lowering his sword before he spoke again. “South of Mercia.”

“God is good.” Alethia sighed, lowering her eyes even more. She sunk to her knees, theatrically repeating her words, but the people of the village did not seem to notice. Instead, a young woman rushed to her side. She had wide doe-like eyes and gave Alethia a soft smile.

She was soft. 

Alethia loved her for it already.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked. Alethia nodded slowly, before shaking her head. 

“I am-” Alethia began, letting her voice wobble just enough. “Where is my husband? Have you seen my husband?”

“No.” the girl whispered. She gave Alethia a look of pity. “When did you last see him?”

“He was so bloody.” Alethia whispered. “I cannot-”

“What is your name?” the girl asked. “You have an accent. Are you a Northwoman?”

“No!” Alethia said, her tone becoming a bit sharper. She thought quickly. What was the name of the woman who had been forced to bear a child for Abraham instead of his wife? The woman who had been chained to her masters for nothing at all?

Hagar.

“I am from the North of Frankia. North of the Rhine. My name is Hagar.” Alethia lied.

“Alright, Hagar. How did you come to Wessex? Perhaps we know your husband? He seems like a well-traveled man.” the girl supplied, helping her up. Alethia was reminded of just how good some people were, no matter the time. She wished this girl had been born over a millenia later. It was what she deserved.

“His name was Athelstan.” Alethia continued, building on the lie. “God, his name was Athelstan. Where is he? Where is my husband? Please, I need-” she gasped for air, as if she had run for miles and miles on end. 

She had walked them.

“We do not know a man by that name here.” the man with the sword said. He could not be any older than Athelstan, and though they both had blue eyes, his bore into Alethia’s, when Athelstan had never been anything but soft.

“Who are you?” Alethia asked as she stood shakily. “Please, I do not have anywhere to go. Who are you good folk?”

“I am Eadith, Hagar.” the sweet girl introduced. “This is Heahmund, he is our priest and protector. That over there is my husband, Finnian. He is a good man, and he will let you stay with us.”

“You mustn’t.” Alethia began immediately, but Eadith hushed her. 

“Come, let me help you find some proper clothes. You must be freezing.”

“I am… I will make myself useful.” Alethia mumbled, more towards herself than anyone else. She was using these people, and that made her feel terrible. “I am a healer.”

Eadith smiled. “Good.” she whispered under her breath, taking her away from the stares. Alethia watched as Heahmund kept his eyes on her, before he turned towards the man Eadith had pointed out to be her husband. Finnian. 

“I am carrying my first child.” Eadith confessed after a while. “I am scared, and the last midwife just died in the winter. A fever took her, God rest her soul.”

“I will help you.” Alethia promised. “You do not have to help me for it. Your kindness today has been more than enough.”

“We are both Christian women, then.” Eadith smiled. “And that means you should know that I would never demand payment of a sister in need.”

God, how was there a soul so kind in a world like this , Alethia wondered.

“I am sorry about your husband, Athelstan.” Eadith said after a while, and Alethia’s heart clenched at the sound of his name. “He did not deserve to die. You are a good woman, Hagar.”

“I try.” Alethia replied. She would leave this place in the dead of night in less than a year and leave behind the people that were helping her already. Was that what a good person did? She shook her head. “I do not think it is enough.”

“And that is precisely what makes you good.” Eadith said. Alethia tried to believe her. 

[vikings-incorrect]

King Horik: I have a personal relationship with Ragnar and a professional relationship with Ragnar King Horik: Personally, yeah, I think he's a rat

[neechees]

Rollo when he cheats on Siggy with multiple women: I am who I am

Rollo when Siggy cheats on him with one dude: why do you sleep with king Horik >:(

[corvusalbus93]

Sneak Peek: Dead Man’s Tale

Recently I’ve shared my plans for a new story, an AU in which Askeladd survives and has his own storyline, separate from Thorfinn’s canon one, details here.

Until I start publishing, there will be a few, short sneak peeks, introducing new characters and hopefully get you curious.

Starting with a snippet from early on in the story, giving you an idea as to how Askeladd survived in the first place:

...

Horik drew his blade, keeping a little distance from the body. “Let’s make sure this one is down for good.”

A few men looked worried, one turning to the Dubliner. “You think he might still be alive?”

“After what I just saw, I’m not taking any chances. Rhiannon?”

Dagger drawn, as if she feared he would rise again, Rhiannon kneeled beside the fallen Viking. She checked for a pulse and breath, before giving Horik a nod. Loud enough for those around them to hear she said. “He’s dead. Lungs must have filled with blood.”

Horik, put his sword away and nudged Askeladd’s head with his boot. “Good riddance. Let’s get him out with the rest. Give me hand, will you?”

The hall had once again become quite busy, with people either leaving or helping to clean up. Horik wasn’t sure just how many had died here today, and counting was complicated by the fact that the dead weren’t always in one piece. He glanced to the unconscious man he helped carry; this wasn’t someone he wanted to meet on the battlefield.

Somewhere in the crowd he spotted Caradoc and Frodi, bearing one of the less mangled corpses. He only got a short glance, but all limbs seemed attached and the deceased had short, blond hair. So far so good. Horik felt his heart hammering and suppressed a smile. It had been years since he’d felt this kind of excitement; that he got to do something like this in his old age. Now everything depended on whether they could pull off the switch and do it in time. The toga was still soaking up blood, telling him that there wasn’t much left. Hopefully, Rhiannon was up to the task.

-

Floki wasn’t having the best day, and he was seething. The king had died under his watch, he had failed to stop Askeladd from slaughtering dozens, almost gotten killed himself, and now Prince Canute was leading the army. Worse, the prince was no longer a pliable boy and seemed little interested in the Jomsviking’s advice. Perhaps looking down at Askeladd’s cold corpse would make him feel better. Why, he’d like to be the one, kicking the bastard into the flames, once the pyres were lit.

The bodies had been divided. Christians didn’t like to cremate the bodies of their dead, so the corpses would be stored by these freezing temperatures, until the ground was soft enough to dig graves in the churchyard. Some of the more important victims would be returned home to be buried amongst family.

The rest however, were to be burned. More convenient this time of year.

He arrived at the cremation site outside York with his retinue, when the sun was already low. Close to the forest the men didn’t need to carry the wood far to build the pyres. The bodies that were to be burned this eve were lined up in the snow, some already with funerary goods beside them.

One elderly man seemed to be overlooking the workers, directing the steady flow of logs. “Where’s the body?” Floki barked at him without so much as a greeting.

The overseer turned around, evidently annoyed, and not the least bit intimidated. Floki remembered him, an envoy from Dublin. And former Viking. “You will have to be more specific, Floki.”

The Jomsviking was not in the mood for his antics. “The traitor, idiot. Where is Askeladd?”

The Irish Viking looked around, until he pointed to a line of bodies just a few steps away. “Ah, there he is.” Admittedly, Askeladd was easy enough to spot, thanks to the toga.

But what Floki saw as he stepped closer made even his stomach turn. The stab wound inflicted by the prince was no longer the only visible wound. It looked as if the body had been speared and stabbed several more times after death, even bludgeoned. Some blunt weapon had completely disfigured the face, the only thing still recognizable being the blond hair, now sticky with blood and bits. “What...what happened to him?”

“You’ve seen what he’s done in the hall. Let’s just say some wanted to vent their feelings after that.”

“You didn’t stop them?” Floki was repulsed; he was no stranger to such acts, but this was excessive.

Horik frowned. “Risk my neck for a dead madman? Not a chance.”

“You kicked him too!” one of the loggers shouted.

The Dubliner shrugged. “Once or twice. What? I was hoping the King would end the threat to Dublin. Now I have to start over with Prince Canute, and he’s probably going to be busy pacifying England. So yeah, I’m pretty pissed.”

Floki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just burn the bodies,” he said wearily. At this point he just wanted this day to be over, but if nothing else there was at least one less problem he needed to worry about.

[queenstormbornn]

new follower your blog is so cute! please tell me ur alternate ending of vikings!! i wanna know!!!

hiiiii. thank youuuuuu.

i’ll share a few things that i’ve changed/will change in my rewrite.

• Lagertha has a stillborn and learns she can’t have anymore children early on in season one, so she gives Ragnar her blessing to find a second wife aka Aslaug

• Bjorn & Gyda are twins (& she doesn’t die)

• Bjorn isn’t a womanizer. He marries Porunn who dies tragically and it breaks his heart where he stays single for a while until a new woman appears and changes things.

• Rollo never betrays Ragnar. In fact, they have a close bond.

• Instead of Siggy, it’s her daughter Thyri that Rollo is in love with and marries and treats her VERY WELL.

• Jarl Borg & Ragnar are close friends and kill King Horik together after his betrayal.

• Athelstan never struggles with his faith — remains a Viking until he is killed (i haven’t decided if i want Floki to kill him still OR he dies in battle)

• Jarl Borg and Gyda get married (i know most won’t like this) but how i’m writing it — they get super close and have a great friendship/partnership but she gives him one son, Guthrum, before he dies in battle.

• Lagertha is close with all of Aslaug & Ragnar’s sons and helps raise them and train them.

• Paris happens BUT wayyyy different.

• Ragnar invades England with his much older sons due to King Ecbert’s betrayal and dies in England.

• Aslaug, Lagertha, and their sons avenge Ragnar’s death BUT Lagertha dies in battle soon after.

• Aslaug is usurped and killed by King Harald (Kattegat is his. crowned king of norway)

• there is NO brother’s war or hatred between them

• Torvi is brought in to be Ubbe’s wife —- she’s around his age and gives him kids

there’s sooooo much more but i’ll leave this here

[crowsandmurder]

Ragnar Lothbrok Tags

Ragnar  ✖ (Aesthetics)

Ragnar ✖ (Thoughts)

Ragnar ✖ (Character Development)

Ragnar ✖ (Crack)

Ragnar  ✖ (Headcanons)

Ragnar  ✖ (Photos)

Ragnar ✖ (Starter Call)

Verses:

C L E V E R  B E G I N N I N G S

Ragnar Sigurdsson was a clever boy who learn the Vikings way young, continuing to apply them through this teenage years. This can anything from childhood to him becoming an adult at the age of eighteen.

P L A N T  T H O S E  S E E D S

As Ragnar Lothbrok moves into adulthood and his marriage to Lagertha, he embraces life on the farm, the Viking adventures and raids, and becoming a father to his daughter and son. This can be anywhere were early adulthood until the Show Beginning.

F I G H T  A N D  T A K E  C A R E  O F  Y O U R  F A M I L Y

Ragnar Lothbrok has grown over the years, but still has some of the same priorities: family, the Viking ways, raids. But things are beginning to change, as his eldest son is able to get his arm band, and new hostilities from various enemies rise up. Eventually, he becomes to Earl of Kattegat

K  I N G  O F  T H E   D A N E S

After discovering the plot that King Horik had to kill him and his sons, Ragnar killed King Horik and became the King of Denmark. This includes any time that Ragnar is King of Denmark, and the adventures that occur during this time.

W H O  W A N T S  T O  B E  K I N G?

After being defeated by Rollo, Ragnar disappeared for ten years. Ten years later, he returns much older, and some even think that he seems crazy. This is anything that occurs after his return, right before the second half of Season Four.

D O W N  B U T   N O T  O U T

After the attempt to take on Paris again, Ragnar felt emotionally defeated after his loss to Rollo. He knows that his brother is lost to them all, having chose the Franks above his own. But, Ragnar has grown battle weary, and wants to focus on more important things. Although he is discouraged and feels defeated, he has returned to Kattegat with the others, to remain King of the Danes. This can take place any time after they return after fighting Rollo and the French in 4x10.

K I N G   I S   G O N E  B U T   N O T  F O R G O T T E N

After being defeated by Rollo and the French, Ragnar could not bear to stay in Kattegat, any longer. He was tired of being a warrior to the people, tired of being King. So, after telling his sons that he had to leave, he headed off, not knowing where he was going or if he wanted to leave. Several months later, he shows up in Hedeby, seeking out the person who he trusts more than a lot of people: Lagertha. Spending the next several years there, he entrusts her with that knowledge, knowing that she would keep his secret, unless it was dangerous to him. This takes place during his time away from Kattegat. This verse can include plotting with more than just Lagertha.

I  W A S  N O  L O N G E R  I N T E R E S T E D   I N   R U L I N G

After the events in The Last Ship, Ragnar, feeling like a failure and tired of ruling leaves Kattegat and is not seen again, for close to a decade. This verse is what happens during his time away from Kattegat.  

B L O O D   I S   T H I C K E R   T H A N   W A T E R

Ragnar Lothbrok had every intention of heading back to Wessex, after coming back to Kattegat. But, he wanted his sons to go with him. When only Ivar agreed to go, he realized that he had missed out on his sons’ lives, and that he was needed in Kattegat. Despite being away for many years, he is determined to take his throne back from his wife, and to help mold his sons into even better warriors, than they already are. This can take place anytime after the end of the 4x10 - The Last Ship and it is open ended, how much canon comes to play, any time afterwards.

M Y   D E A T H   C O M E S   W I T H O U T   A P O L O G Y

Ragnar’s time has come to an end on Midgard.  Executed by King Aelle, death found him, and Odin told his sons of his death, his sons seeking the revenge Ragnar knew they would. Despite Ragnar’s doubts and indifference to the Gods he fought in the name of for so many years, he found himself in Odin’s hall: Valhalla.

T H I S  I S   N O T   T H E   E N D

Ragnar Lothbrok thought that he had the best plan. He was going to turn himself over to Ecbert, and then Ecbert was to turn him over to King Aielle, knowing what his fate would be.  What he did not count on was that Ecbert had a plot of his own, that included using his power to reclaim Ragnar from King Aelle, before he could be executed. After being rescued, he is in debt to King Ecbert, and unsure if he will be returning to Scandinavia, or if he is happy at all, by the turn of events. This takes place after King Ecbert reclaims Ragnar from King Aelle.  Ecbert had more than just giving land to the Northman up his sleeve. Though he made his family think that he had no idea that they’d be betrayed and that Ragnar’s sons would come for him, he had Ragnar held in the tower of the Royal Villa. But, what he did not know was that Ragnar, despite his injuries and ailing statius, had escaped. There’s a variety of places that he could turn up.  He could turn up in York, in England at various spots where people are, possibly even found a way back to Scandinavia. In Season  6, he officially is in back to Kattegat and reveals himself to more and more people but has 0 desire to become King, once more.

H A U N T  M E

This one is exactly what it sounds like. It doesn’t have to be a bad haunting. Ragnar appears to various people in ghost form. Ghost may not be the proper term, but given he’s ascended to Valhalla already, draugr may not be the correct term, either. This is not something that the terminology is going to be overthought about, but there is going to be various times when he can appear to people.  

T I M E  K E E P S  G O I N G

During the course of Vikings, there has been many gaps in time, whether it be between seasons or the sometimes large time jumps that occur. This can be anytime during any of those time jumps, whether it be a short amount of time, the four years during Season Two or the ten years of time, during the middle of Season Four.

I N T O  T H E  P R E S E N T  

This is my blanket tag for Modern AU’s. These can range from College AU’s, to a modern AU, some Modern Crime, and various AU’s. This will be expanded over time, but his main modern AU is he’s a man who wound up having to get rid of a corrupt King, became King, but eventually got tired of it, and lives more of a common life, although time dependent, he is trying to get more focused on it. But, he does prefer a simpler life.  In the modern crime AU, he took over a corporation from a corrupt boss, while running an illegal business on the side. These are all adaptation dependent.  

BIOGRAPHY: 

Born in 763 a.C. to  Sigurd Hring and Alfhild Gandolfsdatter, Ragnar thought for many years that he was an only child. His mother doted on him, while his father taught him the ways of being a Viking, something that Ragnar embraced. He was interested in the gods, specifically Odin from a young age. From a young age, he believed that he was a descendant Odin and in many ways, it helped shape who he became from a young boy to the eventual King of the Danes.  

Early in Ragnar’s adolescence, he was introduced to his brother Rollo, who came to live with them. Ragnar knew that his mother did not favor Rollo in any way, likely due to the fact that his father had brought home another woman’s child.  During his adolescence, Ragnar grew to do well on all the things on the farm and in the Viking Ways.  He always strove to be the best at everything that he does, paying attention to how he processed things, while rarely losing his temper.

As a young adult, Ragnar became quite taken with shield maiden Lagertha. Her skill and the fact that it was clear she was already an excellent shield maiden for her age, appealed to him even more. Plus, there was the fact that she was beautiful. He spent a good while, doing what he could to impress her. His father pointed out that she would make a good wife, and Ragnar agreed.

Going to her home to try to profess his love for her, he killed both a bear and a large hound, then declared to her father that he had earned her hand in marriage.  During his marriage to Lagertha, he loved her deeply and still loves her even now.  Neither of them were under false pretenses of what the other was capable of and on the farm, they raised their son Bjorn and daughter Gyda. Life on the farm is something that’s extremely important to Ragnar.  His family is as important to him, as being the best warrior, he possibly can be.

[devoutpriest]

dontwriggleyourmaggotinherface:

Her silence carried on even after he continued on with the conversation. It was still so awkward to have befriended someone who very literally went against all that she had ever known or been taught. On some level, she even agreed with Floki and was constantly trying to pry that thought from her mind. The norse religion thundered in her blood and bones, she finding her home in Kattegat, where she was friends with or knew all the villagers. She was not a warrior ; fighting with Ragnar and the others, yet she stayed home, finding peace there and doing housewife duties like washing clothes in the river waters of the Ifing. She loved her husband, they were crazy and cracked. The blonde smiled eventually, though it didn’t reach her eyes, “I meant wonderful places that I have not been to or even heard of.”

“Ah…”

Athelstan realized that she was getting at.

“Well, firstly upon arrival, we had no knowledge of where we’d landed, and fought against a unexpected powerful force of soldiers. King Horik was cornered by them, I shouting that he was in trouble, and together, we defeated the threat. After we defeated them, it turned out we were in Winchester, capital of Wessex. And later, I was brought to the KINGDOM of Wessex, where I met King Ecbert. He is JUST like Ragnar in some ways.”

There had been an innate part of him that wanted to stay in the familiar Anglo-Saxon Christianity structure & culture that he had known and also God, which he devoted himself ever since he was a child. The buildings included cathedral with pointed tips reaching to the sky, castles with turrets, and smaller houses. There was also the town square, leading up to the kingdom's castle where Ecbert lived. …Yet another part of him wanted to come back with Ragnar & the others. Ragnar had become a good friend to him, and the Pagan life was something he had become adapted to; he felt ALIVE with the All-father Odin’s very real presence. All of these people in Kattegat had become something like his second family.

“I re-discovered my love of painting there as well.”

Yet another major event that had happened was his very near death by crucifixion, but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to talk about that just yet. The pain had been unimaginable.

[its-elvie-innit]

this show is so brutal and so human. Hurts to see all those children dead because of the mistakes of their father, and the women who took care of them cradling their bodies. Yet the king was to do that to them. Ragnar never wanted to be king, not truly, and horik forced his hand. His weakness is his strength. You do not touch his kids.

[crowsandmurderbackup]

Ragnar Lothbrok Tags

Ragnar  ✖ (Aesthetics)

Ragnar ✖ (Thoughts)

Ragnar ✖ (Character Development)

Ragnar ✖ (Crack)

Ragnar  ✖ (Headcanons)

Ragnar  ✖ (Photos)

Ragnar ✖ (Starter Call)

Verses:

C L E V E R  B E G I N N I N G S

Ragnar Sigurdsson was a clever boy who learn the Vikings way young, continuing to apply them through this teenage years. This can anything from childhood to him becoming an adult at the age of eighteen.

P L A N T  T H O S E  S E E D S

As Ragnar Lothbrok moves into adulthood and his marriage to Lagertha, he embraces life on the farm, the Viking adventures and raids, and becoming a father to his daughter and son. This can be anywhere were early adulthood until the Show Beginning.

FIGHT AND TAKE CARE OF YOUR FAMILY

Ragnar Lothbrok has grown over the years, but still has some of the same priorities: family, the Viking ways, raids. But things are beginning to change, as his eldest son is able to get his arm band, and new hostilities from various enemies rise up. Eventually, he becomes to Earl of Kattegat

K  I N G  O F  T H E   D A N E S

After discovering the plot that King Horik had to kill him and his sons, Ragnar killed King Horik and became the King of Denmark. This includes any time that Ragnar is King of Denmark, and the adventures that occur during this time.

W H O  W A N T S  T O  B E  K I N G?

After being defeated by Rollo, Ragnar disappeared for ten years. Ten years later, he returns much older, and some even think that he seems crazy. This is anything that occurs after his return, right before the second half of Season Four.

D O W N  B U T   N O T  O U T

After the attempt to take on Paris again, Ragnar felt emotionally defeated after his loss to Rollo. He knows that his brother is lost to them all, having chose the Franks above his own. But, Ragnar has grown battle weary, and wants to focus on more important things. Although he is discouraged and feels defeated, he has returned to Kattegat with the others, to remain King of the Danes. This can take place any time after they return after fighting Rollo and the French in 4x10.

K I N G   I S   G O N E  B U T   N O T  F O R G O T T E N

After being defeated by Rollo and the French, Ragnar could not bear to stay in Kattegat, any longer. He was tired of being a warrior to the people, tired of being King. So, after telling his sons that he had to leave, he headed off, not knowing where he was going or if he wanted to leave. Several months later, he shows up in Hedeby, seeking out the person who he trusts more than a lot of people: Lagertha. Spending the next several years there, he entrusts her with that knowledge, knowing that she would keep his secret, unless it was dangerous to him. This takes place during his time away from Kattegat. This verse can include plotting with more than just Lagertha.

I WAS NO LONGER INTERESTED IN RULING

After the events in The Last Ship, Ragnar, feeling like a failure and tired of ruling leaves Kattegat and is not seen again, for close to a decade. This verse is what happens during his time away from Kattegat.  

B L O O D   I S   T H I C K E R   T H A N   W A T E R

Ragnar Lothbrok had every intention of heading back to Wessex, after coming back to Kattegat. But, he wanted his sons to go with him. When only Ivar agreed to go, he realized that he had missed out on his sons’ lives, and that he was needed in Kattegat. Despite being away for many years, he is determined to take his throne back from his wife, and to help mold his sons into even better warriors, than they already are. This can take place anytime after the end of the 4x10 - The Last Ship and it is open ended, how much canon comes to play, any time afterwards.

MY DEATH COMES WITHOUT APOLOGY

Ragnar’s time has come to an end on Midgard.  Executed by King Aelle, death found him, and Odin told his sons of his death, his sons seeking the revenge Ragnar knew they would. Despite Ragnar’s doubts and indifference to the Gods he fought in the name of for so many years, he found himself in Odin’s hall: Valhalla.

THIS IS NOT THE END

Ragnar Lothbrok thought that he had the best plan. He was going to turn himself over to Ecbert, and then Ecbert was to turn him over to King Aielle, knowing what his fate would be.  What he did not count on was that Ecbert had a plot of his own, that included using his power to reclaim Ragnar from King Aelle, before he could be executed. After being rescued, he is in debt to King Ecbert, and unsure if he will be returning to Scandinavia, or if he is happy at all, by the turn of events. This takes place after King Ecbert reclaims Ragnar from King Aelle.  Ecbert had more than just giving land to the Northman up his sleeve. Though he made his family think that he had no idea that they’d be betrayed and that Ragnar’s sons would come for him, he had Ragnar held in the tower of the Royal Villa. But, what he did not know was that Ragnar, despite his injuries and ailing statius, had escaped. There’s a variety of places that he could turn up.  He could turn up in York, in England at various spots where people are, possibly even found a way back to Scandinavia. In Season  6, he officially is in back to Kattegat and reveals himself to more and more people but has 0 desire to become King, once more.

H A U N T  M E

This one is exactly what it sounds like. It doesn’t have to be a bad haunting. Ragnar appears to various people in ghost form. Ghost may not be the proper term, but given he’s ascended to Valhalla already, draugr may not be the correct term, either. This is not something that the terminology is going to be overthought about, but there is going to be various times when he can appear to people.  

T I M E  K E E P S  G O I N G

During the course of Vikings, there has been many gaps in time, whether it be between seasons or the sometimes large time jumps that occur. This can be anytime during any of those time jumps, whether it be a short amount of time, the four years during Season Two or the ten years of time, during the middle of Season Four.

BIOGRAPHY: 

Born in 763 a.C. to  Sigurd Hring and Alfhild Gandolfsdatter, Ragnar thought for many years that he was an only child. His mother doted on him, while his father taught him the ways of being a Viking, something that Ragnar embraced. He was interested in the gods, specifically Odin from a young age. From a young age, he believed that he was a descendant Odin and in many ways, it helped shape who he became from a young boy to the eventual King of the Danes.  

Early in RaVto live with them. Ragnar knew that his mother did not favor Rollo in any way, likely due to the fact that his father had brought home another woman’s child.  During his adolescence, Ragnar grew to do well on all the things on the farm and in the Viking Ways.  He always strove to be the best at everything that he does, paying attention to how he processed things, while rarely losing his temper.

As a young adult, Ragnar became quite taken with shield maiden Lagertha. Her skill and the fact that it was clear she was already an excellent shield maiden for her age, appealed to him even more. Plus, there was the fact that she was beautiful. He spent a good while, doing what he could to impress her. His father pointed out that she would make a good wife, and Ragnar agreed.

Going to her home to try to profess his love for her, he killed both a bear and a large hound, then declared to her father that he had earned her hand in marriage.  During his marriage to Lagertha, he loved her deeply and still loves her even now.  Neither of them were under false pretenses of what the other was capable of and on the farm, they raised their son Bjorn and daughter Gyda. Life on the farm is something that’s extremely important to Ragnar.  His family is as important to him, as being the best warrior, he possibly can be.

[vetustamorla]

every time i rewatch vikings i am more and more convinced the entire purpose of king horik's character is to piss me off

[sanctificetur]

renly sees the other look in interest to his book about ancient history, as he reads about the heritage of the romans. there was a painting of how the roman city was built, with houses and a tree in the centre ; reminding athelstan of yggdrasil.

athelstan recalled meeting godric in his past life, as he and renly peruse the book together. some fair time passed during he and renly’s knowing each other. and he talks a little about his past with journeying in the hereafter.

one story was about the gothic cathedrals in the early middle ages and another about the cairo pyramids. ‘ i remember godric had visited the cairo pyramids ( pointing to the picture in the book ) and I envisioned it to be like the desert kasbahs. ‘ the pyramids were in egypts, where he learned about the middle ages.

he had remembered this as he went to the uppsala temple once more, making a snow angel of christ, and a white blond-haired boy asked what he was doing. he realises it to be the priest as they talked, and he gauging the other’s expression. they were a holy group of monks in the temple, believing in the aesir and vanir. king horik had awoke them with chickens in the dead of night, they kicking him and saying, 'get out!', they thinking it was a stray traveller who was hiking and came across their temple -- not understanding the traditions of the revered presence of them.

remembering the other’s suspicious ominous gaze as he peered through his dark kohl rimmed eyes in the dim light. as the temple’s only light was from the fire within the sconces to evoke a sense of divinity.

it had shaken athelstan when seeing the other’s glare, it sending shivers through him. yet he learned the priest’s reincarnation elicited various feelings in him.

‘ it was a brown temple high up into the fjord mountains, evergreen fir trees decorating within. a river was streaming through the mountain ‘, he remembered ( continuing in his recount to renly ) as he and the other vikings climbed.

godric says he once saw a plaque in the forest during his travels, pausing by the road to examine ; that had resonated within him.

‘ I am the heat of your hearth on the cold winter nights… ‘ he says, continuing. ‘ i am the bread of kindness and flower of beauty. ye who pass by, hear my prayer. ‘

[melodicwitchlight]

jarl borg and now king horik’s death were like a burden lifting off from her shoulders. they made her on edge, she had sensed horik’s not well-intended intentions even as she spoke to him in an accommodating tone, do not trust him, she recalled whispering to ragnar.

and jarl borg was cruel and ruthless, slaughtering villagers and taking kattegat by force, forcing her family to go to poorer lands, inflicting misery and terror upon herself and her sons.

aslaug now smiles at ragnar as she balances ivar in her arms. she was relieved that things seemed to be going back to normal and she was finally at peace, happer--except for ivar’s growing sickness. from the start, he had the misfortune of his legs being boneless, and now a racking sickness seemed to take hold of his body with more force, making him cry out in pain frequently. it broke aslaug’s heart when she heard him cry like that, and her trying to calm him only evoked a short reprieve.

“ragnar, how was your trip to england?”