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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years ago

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Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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majesticwren · 3 years ago

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The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

A/N: Hello darlings, finally I found some time to catch up with some things here on my dash, so here we are with the next chapter! I thank you all for your support both here and on my Ao3. ✨ In this chapter, we'll meet Loki and the face I chose for him. He is his own trigger warning tbh.

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 9k. Trigger Warnings: Mention of Death, Mention of Grief, Drowning. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics .

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 8 - Consequences.

A curious ray of sunshine slowly moved across the bed.

The Sun was high enough in the sky that its light flooded the room right through the window.

Angrboda wasn’t disturbed by it. She didn’t realize how late it was, lost in the strands of deep but unsettled sleep. That was, at least, until that ray slapped her in the face.

She woke up frowning. An unhappy, groggy grunt left her chest.

Her first thought was to curse the light because she needed more sleep. So, she rolled over and dug her face deep into the pillows, hiding away from the direct light.

Her bed of pelts seemed more spacious and comfortable than she remembered.

Angrboda jumped, suddenly startled.

The drowsy morning feeling was gone, together with the need to be lazy and indulge in some more sleep. She was now completely alert.

Her mind was muffled, and her head felt like it was cracked in half. Angrboda's bones and muscles were tired and weary. It definitely felt like she didn’t sleep much. Plus, her body never reacted well to ale. Her head felt extremely heavy and her stomach ached and burned as if she had eaten flames the night before.

She carefully ran her fingers over her cheeks and jawline, feeling the skin on her face, which felt tight and bloated.

That wasn’t all. Her powers too were discombobulated and were acting out.

Worse than all of that, Angrboda felt a cold shiver crossing her spine. Frozen adrenaline shot in her blood in response to the sudden, pure sense of fear that exploded inside of her.

Because she now remembered what she did.

Last night she looked for Hvitserk.

She knew it was wrong. But she still indulged in it without doing anything to stop it. No control over her desires whatsoever. Which was extremely disappointing.

And worse, she then kissed him.

And then, as if it already wasn’t enough, she also slept there.

Her nose was still filled with the scent of Hvitserk’s skin. It reminded her of things like the sweet smell of summer rain, and the one of leather left under the Sun. It was inebriating. And her body still resonated with his body warmth, she could still hear the steady sound of his heartbeat in her ear.

Hvitserk and her didn’t just share a bed. They slept embracing and holding like lovers would do.

He surrounded her in a wholesome, protective, warm hug. He made sure both that she was comfortable and to keep her as close as he could. Showing her how easy would it be to reach the crack in his armour, so she could slip right back inside his heart if she wanted. It was sweet. It was vulnerable. And it was dangerous.

Angrboda gladly let him treat her like she was something small in need to be held.

And she held him as close as she could, with her fingers clutched around his figure and her face pressed on his neck and chest. She didn’t want any space.

It could have been worse, though.

She could have given into temptation, for example. Sliding between Hvitserk’s arms, through his bedsheets, would have been as easy as breathing.

It almost happened. They almost didn’t stop the kiss. She remembered as much. And the roar of desire still echoed in her muscles and bones.

So then she could have delivered their heads straight into Loki’s hands.

Angrboda grunted loudly, kicking off the pelts and getting up.

Of course, she was alone. She wouldn’t have expected anything better. And it was the right thing. Angrboda didn’t know how she would have reacted if he was still there.

If he had been there, with his naked body only covered by pelts, his long golden hair messy and stretched on the pillows, and his pale skin shining under the morning Sun… She could only imagine what sweet vision it would have been. And then again, Hvitserk would have been half awake, maybe dragging her back to bed with all grabbing hands, just trying to have as much of her as he could. He would have tried to sweet-talk her into the idea of being lazy and staying in bed. And with his deepened morning voice he would have probably tried to seduce her.

Her chest stung a little, knowing she woke up to an empty bed instead. But then again, she knew perfectly how difficult it would have been for her to leave Hvitserk’s side if he was still there. That thought was enough to shake her back to reality.

On top of all of that, she didn’t have any right to expect him to be there to begin with.

She quickly got dressed, avoiding wearing her shoes just yet.

Before she left Hvitserk’s room, she made sure that the path was clear outside, so that no one would see her sneak out of his room and wrongly assume that they either laid together or that they could be close. Or both.

Angrboda moved quickly and was as swift as a cat to get back downstairs.

The Great Hall's main doors were open letting some fresh air in. She could hear the chattering coming from the surrounding city. It was clearly well into the day if the brightness of the light surrounding her didn’t hint it enough.

Angrboda sighed, and then stretched. She knew exactly what would have washed off her body that weary and tired feeling: a swim in the cold, dark waters of the Fjord.

She nodded to herself and smiled deciding that was probably the best decision she took in the past twelve hours of her life.

She bent over to put on her boots, still moving quietly, trying her best to be only a ghost, unseen and undetected, so that she could have just sneaked away without having to answer any questions.

“Good morning, Angrboda.” The amusement in those words slapped her harder than hearing someone addressing her directly.

She froze on the spot, her eyes widened as her face suddenly lost its colour going completely pale.

She cursed many times in her mind, definitely feeling like she was just caught doing something wrong. Which wasn’t too far-fetched. But at the same time she felt like she had no need to feel guilty, she did nothing wrong.

Her body vibrated under the slight shiver of shame, just a second before she embraced the voice that mockingly welcomed her, as she turned over. There was no way to deny the obviousness of the situation.

She slept somewhere and it wasn’t her own bed.

Yet she felt like she needed to make sure everyone knew that it was a proverbial case of the situation was not as it looked.

“Ubbe-” She greeted him crossing his electric blue eyes.

If her empathy hadn’t been fuzzed by the alcohol still being digested by her system she probably would have been able to read the room better and feel his presence.

But she didn’t.

Although missing Ubbe was way better than missing the presence of Queen Aslaug, for example.

He just looked at her pondering on her figure, clearly looking for any sort of detail that could have helped him study the situation. A pleased and confident smile grew on his lips as his eyes followed the ladder upstairs, clearly hinting at the fact that he just saw her coming off it, and wanted to underline it, probably only to take the piss.

Of course, he knew where she came from. And of course, the widen his smile grew, the clearer was that his mind went to the completely wrong place – more or less.

He lifted his chin and took a deep breath in, all proud and jolly for reasons that Angrboda really didn’t want to know. She didn’t need his confidence and blessing, or his entire emotional point of view on the situation.

“We were wondering where you could be. But I guess-” His smile bent under a cocky shade, as he left his words suspended. His blue eyes were shining so bright she felt pinned to where she was standing as he read through her soul. His cheeks only slightly reddened, as his mind possibly filled with the idea that his little brother and she got together.

“Ubbe-” The glare she sent him was enough of a warning to be careful with his words. And thoughts.

His humour and amusement didn’t leave his aura or smile, which widened in the traits that made it look like the smile of a wolf. Though, at least, he stopped with his mockery.

Ubbe nodded and tried to hide his smirk with a slight bow, apologetically placing a hand on his chest. “Sigurd and Hvitserk left early.”

“Oh, ok.” Angrboda sighed, pretending she didn’t much care about that information.

But she still got lost in her thoughts, wondering where Hvitserk could have gone when he woke up. What was he thinking? What was he feeling?

It wasn’t her business.

Angrboda looked back at Ubbe, offering him a nod and a grateful smile.

She knew he was very amused by what he just saw. As well as she knew he was probably one of the few people who knew for certain that there was something going on between her and Hvitserk. His younger and most beloved brother would have never kept a secret from him, and Angrboda never had a moment, in her life, not to consider Ubbe trustworthy with her life, let alone secrets.

“How’s Ivar?” She wondered, changing the subject.

“He is still sleeping, which I’m going to guess it’s not a bad sign. My mother went in there early this morning and sat with him for a while.”

“That’s good. Really good-” she had almost forgotten about what happened only a few hours before with Ivar “-where’s your mother now?”

“I don’t know, I think she left as well. Probably to go to the market. I know there’s been a new trade of silks arriving last night.”

Angrboda just nodded, thinking it was better that way, she wasn’t in the mood to face Aslaug. And if the Queen decided to touch her, she knew the woman would be able to feel her son’s energy still linger through her. Angrboda really didn’t need any more questions and surely she didn’t need to explain to Queen Aslaug, mother of the Brothers, why she was so strongly connected to Hvitserk. Especially when Aslaug was well known to be extremely protective of her Sons.

“What happened yesterday? Is Ivar ok?”

“He is fine now. Don’t worry too much.” Angrboda looked around, just fidgeting on her feet, still feeling very much under the spotlight and very much embarrassed. “Ok then-” she sighed “-I will see you later, Ubbe.”

“Yes, count on it! Just to let you know, we will meet at the training range later in the afternoon, you’re more than welcome to join us.” Ubbe still had a sharp smile on his lips and a sparkle shined through his eyes.

Angrboda just nodded to his words, accepting the invitation as a possibility. Then she smiled back, feeling like she remembered to do it too late, in a clumsy, embarrassed nod of goodbye.

She finally pushed herself to move, thinking to pretend to be busy was better than just standing there, being under scrutiny.

She crossed the Hall and reached for Ivar’s bedroom.

Without really paying too much attention to being subtle she got in, finding the unchanged scenario she left the night before.

Angrboda slid closer to Ivar and gave him a shake. “Hey, sleepy boy, wake up.”

He sighed, then grunted, rolling in his bed clearly opposing the idea of waking up.

Angrboda wasn’t in a good mood. There was a tiny dark cloud that seemed to follow her around accompanying her in every emotion, reaction and movement. So, Ivar's childish response to her attempt to wake him rubbed her the wrong way.

She turned over to the table where she left all her stuff the night before.

She proceeded to gather her ingredients and pack them away. Then she reached for her weapons, fixing them back on her belt. Not caring about the clattering.

“Well, good morning-” Ivar huffed not impressed by being disturbed. A big yawn followed.

When Angrboda didn’t answer but kept going on with her business, Ivar’s attention moved on her. She could feel his eyes focusing on her and even if she wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was frowning. She could feel his nose scrunching as confusion took over.

“I guess we are a ray of sunshine this morning, uh?” She felt his cocky smile in her ear.

Angrboda tutted, purposely loud. That was the only reaction she felt to give him.

She couldn’t look at him. She was very good at hiding her turbulent emotions from everyone but Ivar. He could read through her.

Maybe it was her shame knowing she did something she wasn’t allowed to do. Or maybe it was her fear of the consequences. Maybe it was her anger. It was easier to blame her recklessness on someone else.

Ivar sighed. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling. She felt him move as his bed creaked under the pressure of his weight being pushed and moved.

She finally turned over, only because she had to, not because she wanted to. Her expression moulded into an annoyed pout. “I will remove the compresses – or you can have someone else do so, doesn’t change much.”

Ivar frowned, tipping his head to the side. He studied her with his stirred sea eyes, without losing his smirk. His emotions caressed her, making her powers vibrate.

His attention was caught by her words. His smile sharpened.

She never let anyone else take care of him. She hated the idea of him trusting another as much as he did with her, to let them get close to his legs. And she knew he knew she would have never said suggested something like that lightly.

She had slipped. And Ivar caught her in his trap. She could feel his logical mind swallow her whole.

“Well, you look like shit.” He tipped his head to the side.

Angrboda just straight-up growled at him, then shook her head, raising her eyes to the roof. She definitely didn’t want to pick a fight even if she was in the mood for it. “You made me drink.” She finally muttered between gritted teeth.

“What?”

“You made me drink. Last night. You know how easily I lose control-”

“That’s not my responsibility-” Ivar sent her a sharp glare “-I am not your guardian.” He stopped his words and train of thoughts as if he suddenly decided to bite his tongue, realising something was wrong. He just looked deeper and deeper into her, trying to read her face. Ivar lifted his chin, his smile was now gone. “What happened? What did you do?” He wasn’t entirely concerned, more curious.

Angrboda just shook her head, not inclined into participating in his games. “So, do you want me to remove your compresses? If not, I will go.”

“Do it.” He hissed.

He just sat there, unmovable as if suddenly he was made of stone, keeping his eyes closed, while Angrboda worked.

Using some clean cloths and the leftover water in the bucket from the night before, she proceeded to clean off the greenish mixture of herbs that she had previously spread on his frail legs. As she did it, she also took advantage of the situation so to check Ivar’s legs in the much better light of the morning.

There was some healing bruising on his knee cap that she had missed last night. Nothing concerning though. It could have been only him hitting something while he dragged himself around.

Just at the end, she finally spoke. “How do you feel?” Her own voice felt alien through the thickness of the silence that fell between them.

“Alright, thank you. I slept-”

“Ivar-” She snapped. “-I mean your pain level.”

“Oh. Lower than usual.”

“Good.” Generally, she would feel proud. But not now, she wanted to escape from there and have a moment alone, from everyone's attention and everyone’s eyes. The Gods’ especially.

She didn’t look at Ivar again, as she was ready to pick up her bag and just leave.

But when she got up, Ivar grabbed her arm, holding her back. He sat on his bed pulling Angrboda, trying to make her turn and look at him. “Angrboda, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Ivar gave her a shake, imposing his presence on her. Even if she was looking away, and standing in a position that made her taller than him, she still felt his sight, his eyes, grabbing hers, bringing her to turn, pushed by that invisible force. She felt so small, now.

Angrboda briefly crossed Ivar’s eyes, just before shaking off his hold. “I said nothing happened. Let me be.”

“Do you think I don’t know you well enough? I see it, in your eyes.”

Her voice and words slowly died in her throat. There was nothing she could do, or say, that would change anything. And it was her burden to carry.

She wasn’t allowed to speak with him, or anyone, about her worries, about what she did, what it meant. And definitely, she could not say how Loki’s anger would have made her regret it. Possibly, destroying her.

Angrboda shook her head. “I need to go.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Angrboda hesitated, for a second.

Ivar, besides all his flaws and bad reputation, was still someone she considered highly of, and she wanted to keep him close to her. He was not just a brother – he was a friend. He was a reference point. Maybe an unstable one, but nonetheless.

Yet, there was a whole lot of darkness, pain, and duty, that Angrboda could not share, and was now oppressing her, pushing her down. She felt her lungs empty of air, and her throat seemed unable to function. She couldn’t breathe, as if she was drowning.

So, she ran.

She knew Ivar couldn’t follow her. And for once, she took advantage, unable not to.

He could see through her too clearly and it wouldn’t have taken long before he could understand.

Angrboda could not bear the idea to be under his eyes when that happened. She would still be unable to speak to him, or anyone. But she knew his questions would have been infinite and oppressive.

Words burned in her chest, in her heart, under her skin. She wanted to scream.

Angrboda ran from the Great Hall. Then, escaped entirely from Kattegat.

The air carried too much energy, the voices were too loud, and the feelings were too many, for her to endure through and keep herself together. She was so overwhelmed that didn’t even realize how deeply rooted her panic was until she was spilling out of control.

She retreated to the only place she could find some peace and protection: the forest cabin.

The further away she would get from Kattegat, the easier it seemed to breathe, and the closer she got to Floki, the safer she would feel.

There was always an invisible tie between her and her parents. She knew where they were and sometimes, what they felt – but her bond was especially strong with her father. Who was able to feel the same kind of connection towards her.

Angrboda left Ulfrún to her pile of hay, so the horse could rest for a bit. It had definitely been an intense couple of days for the animal.

As soon as she reached the beach, she felt the wave of an incredibly powerful aura kick her.

There was so much power and determination, so much strength. So many dreams, broken hope, regrets, and melancholy. But still so much ambition and a certain level of peace too.

The mind of this aura was so bright, so powerful and strong, yet so undeniably broken.

He was relentless and unstoppable, like the cold grip of Winter. So powerful she suddenly felt like it was the middle of winter – deadly and dangerous, but it was also reassuring. It smelled of snow, frozen fertile earth, and sea storm – and brought with it the peculiar stillness and silence of a very long, but slow snowfall.

Angrboda didn’t need to see him, to know that there was just a man on Earth who could have that energy – and she remembered it like it was an old friend.

She had often felt splinters of it in all of his Sons.

Ragnar Lothbrok was there.

Angrboda shook off her feelings and as soon as she emerged in that land of open sails and wooded bodies, Floki greeted her. He knew she was coming, and Angrboda could bet on his concern.

“Child.”

“Hello, father.”

He walked closer, crossing the entire beach in just a few steps with his incredibly long legs, without breaking eye contact. Sometimes, Floki’s behaviour was similar to the one of an old owl.

She knew he was searching through her soul, studying her feelings, as much as she was absorbing his affection, concerns, and brotherly love towards his dearest friend. Floki was the only person she could not push away or escape from.

When he got close enough, Floki moved his hands in the air, caressing her aura.

Angrboda felt too small and too fragile at that moment, to keep pretending. She knew there wasn’t much lying she could bring on in front of her father when he had such a clear picture of her emotions.

She sighed and stepped forward embracing him in a much-needed hug. No words needed.

Floki gently closed his long arms around her and pulled her closer, his body moulded on her in a fatherly hug. With every second, she held him tighter and tighter, squeezing her fingers into the material of his shirt, grasping onto her father figure like she would with an anchor.

Angrboda's breath broke as she shivered, but she used all her strength to hold back the tears.

Floki started rocking her slowly, making her feel overwhelmed by the peaceful feeling that movement gave her. It tore her off the reality of that time and took her back to when she was just a kid, or even younger, to a land made of memories and past, where being held by her father was the only thing that could calm her cries and make the world quieten.

She got lost in that feeling and in the smell of strong wood and sap that surrounded her father.

For a moment, it seemed like nothing mattered.

Floki shifted a bit, leaning. He moved a hand, raising it to her face and caressing lightly her forehead with his fingertips.

“What troubles you, Angrboda?”

Angrboda remained silent, purposely not looking at him. She didn’t know what to say and how to say it.

Then, she gathered her control and gave him a squeeze, finally moving her head to look up. Crossing his eyes, an exact reflection of hers, she offered him a peaceful smile. But it had nothing comforting, it was the smile of a prisoner accepting a trial verdict.

“Don’t worry father.”

“Something happened. I felt it. Is it Ivar?”

“No. Ivar is more than alright, don’t worry.”

Floki didn’t stop, he tipped his head to the side, frowning. She knew he was digging for answers into her feelings. She just shook her head. “I’m fine, please father.”

“It feels like you’re mourning. I-” Then, he got startled by a shot of clarity. She knew he probably had just found the part of her that still held the light Hvitserk gave her.

Floki always knew Hvitserk and her were tied by young love, and never objected to it. But not even he could know what she gave up for Loki. So, he never knew what the root of her pain was, and the reason why her bond with Hvitserk was violently cut.

Of course, he tried to understand, but after a while he gave up, leaving Angrboda the space she needed.

Now he seemed so confused. Angrboda could feel it so clearly. But unfortunatly she didn’t have answers to make it better.

Floki just nodded, looking at her and then, he looked around as if he was expecting to see someone else there with them. “I will always be here when you need me.”

“I know.”

“Come, now. I have an old friend to introduce to you.” Floki gave her an encouraging smile, and then kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her back to the main tent.

There, she found Helga who was busy boiling some leaves to make colours to die the sails.

As soon as they were close enough, her sweet eyes moved immediately to Angrboda and she offered her the sweetest smile. “My daughter is back!” She announced, and immediately got up and came close.

Helga exchanged a look with Floki, so full of excitement and pure joy, and love. She was a precious woman. A precious mother. And Angrboda already felt some of her invisible wounds find a remedy, with the amount of affection she was welcomed with.

Helga greeted Angrboda with a kiss on the forehead and then turned.

All the eyes moved to the tent, and from behind its drape came the great Ragnar Lothbrok.

Angrboda froze, suddenly breathless.

The last time she saw him was so many years ago. She was so young that of course, his features faded in the winds of time. She imagined he would look similar to his Sons, but that was circumstantial because all the brothers were so different from each other in looks and souls.

But they all had some of his traits.

Except for Ubbe. He was a spitted image of his father, with the same bright blue eyes, and the same cut of a sharp smile.

Ragnar was now an old man, yet his presence and the power of his aura were immense.

He stepped closer to her, curiously looking at her features. “All grown up.” A peaceful smile crossed his lips, accompanied by genuine happiness. It was like he was cherishing every second.

Angrboda nodded, offering him a smile back. “Yes. It’s nice to see you, Ragnar Lothbrok.”

Ragnar laughed, raising his eyes over to the water’s edge. “Just Ragnar. Ragnar Lothbrok has too much weight these days.”

“It has the weight you gave it, Ragnar.” Angrboda lifted her chin, meeting Ragnar’s eyes without hesitating. Ragnar had that kind of energy that brought people to kneel in front of him just with a look, and maybe, once, he would have taken her words seriously. Now, he met them with an amused smile.

Ragnar looked at Floki, nodding in approval. “She is definitely fiery!”

Then, he immediately returned to her tipping his head to the side, his eyes seemed to glimmer under a strange light but his smile didn’t disappear. “I hear that you’re quite close to my sons.”

“I am.” Angrboda nodded, proud of her status.

The Sons of Ragnar were known to be royalty, almost renowned as the Gods between their people, making it a rule that anyone would always want to be next to them. It didn’t matter what for. It could be a feast, a fight, a battle, raiding, or romance. Anything. All the people through the lands of Scandinavia would have always moved to the call of the Ragnarssons.

Well, for Angrboda they were the Sons of Ragnar, but also just the brothers, the friends, she grew up with. Almost by birthright, she had a place to grow up close to them, though, after that, it was choice that bound them.

“I very well hope you will take very good care of them, then. You seem to have the right attitude to keep them in line.”

Angrboda nodded, with pride and respect. She managed to find his words quite funny and true.

The brothers accepted her as part of the group because there was respect between all of them. So, in any kind of matter, her opinion was expected, trusted, and valued. She knew the most important thing, would have always been keeping them together. That was what they needed, that was the peak of their strength.

“Oh, I will. Even when they won’t let me.” Ragnar and she had a moment. A silent understanding. The old King just stood there, looking at her. Then, he sighed and gave her a meaningful squeeze on the shoulder, nodding away.

She wasn’t sure what they had just exchanged. But she collected enough information to know what was possibly going on. The feeling she kept receiving from him, of his peaceful waiting for death, was quite clear.

Ragnar Lothbrok was saying goodbye.

At that moment, she understood that Ragnar Lothbrok was the guest Floki has been waiting for. Part of her was genuinely happy that her father managed to see once again his dearest friend.

Sometime later, she was finally having the swim she had longed for.

Angrboda embraced the freezing temperature of the water as soothing. And it was what her tired muscles and soul needed. After a few minutes in the water, she already felt regenerated.

Angrboda enjoyed the imperative silence and the sublime tranquillity of the dark waters, finding reassurance in the firm hold of the high mountains around the Fjord.

She loved swimming.

The brothers taught her when they were kids. It was moulded in her muscles and soul as something fun that carried pleasant memories. And maybe part of the reason why she loved it so much and felt so freeing doing it, was because both Floki and Helga tried many times to forbid it to her. Both her parents were scared of the water or not able to swim. So, from the times she sneaked for a swim, breaking her childhood promises to her parents, it became something rebelling and empowering.

The resonance of all those feelings still flowed inside her blood.

Now, Angrboda felt close to the element of water.

Angrboda floated on the water's surface, her eyes were lost in the immensity of the silver sky above her. Finally, she was allowed to feel relaxed enough to let her feelings go.

The water surrounding her nested her quiet cry, making her feel protected from everything.

Letting everything go was like finally breathing after a long apnoea.

She let the water gently caress her body, feeling comfortable enough to relax her neck and let the water flood her ears, muffling every sound, letting her have a moment where she was just suspended between worlds, with no identity and nothing in her possession.

Her powers were numbed.

It was so peaceful.

Something grabbed her and dragged her down.

As the clash of thunder would break the peace of a clear day, terror suddenly broke into that moment, into her, bringing her back to reality and worse. She clearly felt a tight hold on her ankle and then, an unbreakable force pulling her down into the dark waters.

She didn’t have enough time to inhale air, therefore she knew that the little amount of oxygen she had in her lungs was scarce. But she was ready to fight.

The response of adrenaline pumping through her heart was immediate, sharpening her senses. That was probably the only reason why she realized, through the panic, that the time had slowed around her until it stopped.

She saw the still water around her and could not move her body. The bubbles and lather left from her initial convulse moving, emerged too slowly to be natural in the beginning, until she saw it freeze completely.

“Angrboda, what did you do?” A voice hissed to her ear.

Suddenly she wasn’t in the water anymore.

She was somewhere else. A dark limbo of some sort, thrown into another plane of existence.

Angrboda was on her knees, naked and wet as if she was just dragged out of the water, but for some reason, blanked out on it.

She looked up, trying to move, but a deep commanding voice imposed itself. “Stand down, Angrboda.”

She immediately recognized that voice. She knew he was coming. She knew sooner or later she would have to face him. “Loki-”

Angrboda quickly moved her hand to dry as much water as she could on her face, and then, pushed her hair backwards. She remained on her knees, in the shallow black water that covered that apparently infinite black space.

She didn’t feel the cold as she expected, or anything else really. The air was static with no energy, smells, or breeze to it. It was full of nothing. Even the sounds were muffled as if her ears were still underwater.

Angrboda didn’t move her arms to cover her body, she didn’t feel ashamed of her nudity in front of a God, that would be silly. She wasn’t sure if she didn’t feel timid because of the situation, or because her emotions were completely stripped from her. Although, she had many reasons to be ashamed and she definitely remembered them.

Loki stepped closer and placed a hand on top of her head, softly caressing her hair, just a second before materializing in a different position. Now, he was right behind her. His hand pulled her hair backwards making her lift her face. No reaction came from her, as if she was only a puppet in the hands of the God. Loki brushed his face on the side of hers, as close as possible to her ear. “Child, you disappointed me.”

“I- Please, I didn’t mean-” She tried to plea.

“Oh, but you did.” Loki kept his position, whispering to her ear and the longer his breath would caress her neck, the more fear would mix in her blood. She wasn’t scared of the God, though, not in a way that meant her distrusting him. She was scared he would turn his favour away from her.

A stream of images started flowing in her mind, and she wasn’t sure it was her own will, Loki’s projecting them, or stealing them.

She didn’t need to relive the kiss with Hvitserk with the intensity her memories seemed to carry.

She could still feel his tongue caressing hers, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his quickened breath, and his muscles vibrating under her hands.

She tried to stop thinking about it, firmly shutting her eyes and shaking her head, even if that meant Loki pulling her hair harder.

Angrboda sighed, then nodded, not even trying to lie about something she could not deny. “I’m sorry. I was weak. I-”

“You were weak. Do you know what would have happened if I didn’t intervene to stop it?”

She immediately remembered that freezing doubt that overcame her. She thought Loki wasn’t with her because she could not hear or feel him, but she was apparently wrong.

She also very well knew what would have happened if she and Hvitserk just went on with their business.

But Loki wasn’t happy enough, and decided to torture her even more. He indulged in showing her a stream of thoughts and images that weren’t hers, but that carried a series of emotions that felt way too real. In her mind she found Hvitserk’s bedroom again. She saw them embracing in a tight hug, kissing – and not stopping.

Hvitserk moved, pushing Angrboda into the bed and immediately following her.

She watched him taking off her clothes, and it was as a new memory printed in her mind of the feeling of Hvitserk’s hands on her. She saw the pure desire that flooded in his amber eyes the more skin he would uncover – and felt her own urge mounting inside of her as if it had been real.

Angrboda could not escape from that vision. She had to watch herself having sex with Hvitserk, which was what her body still deeply desired now. Worse, she felt the pleasure and his warmth. As she could feel his hands on her skin, she felt him inside of her. As if it had happened.

Angrboda wanted to scream, cry, struggle and fight because she couldn’t recognise anymore if those were her real memories, or if was one of Loki’s tricks.

“Why are you showing me this?” Angrboda's voice was broken into a wheezing, gasping sound. She tried to breathe and escape those images, failing.

She felt Hvitserk's moans and him calling her name lost in his pleasure, echoing inside her ears clear as day.

Her mouth filled with the taste of his skin. The palms of her hands were printed with the feeling of his body. It was like it happened. It was real.

And it wasn’t.

“Don’t you understand, my child? All I’m doing is trying to protect you!”

Angrboda remained silent. She couldn’t understand, no. But wouldn’t contradict a God.

Her body shook with a shiver that she could not control, and once again, she felt like her heart was being stripped and torn open.

Just then, the stream of imagines broke. She caught her breath in relief, still feeling her entire body deeply shaken by what was implanted in her brain, now. And by fear. “I understand.” She muttered, feeling her voice far away, still lost in her own mind.

“No. You don’t. You would have carried his child if I didn’t intervene. A new child, in this world. The first of a new generation. It would have been a son, that would grow into a man. What a tragedy.”

Angrboda’s emotions were frozen and slowed. If she had her feelings up and running as always, that was the kind of information that would have made her deeply mad, to the point she needed to kill, mad.

A child. Her child. Her first child. Hers and Hvitserk’s. Hers. Taken away.

Angrboda wanted to rip her heart from her chest, and the one of whoever would be in front of her, even a God. But her anger was muffled, quickly lost in the thick courtains of fog that pervaded her mind.

She didn’t even want a child. Not yet. The visions Freyja showed her pictured a grownup version of her and Hvitserk and there would have been children.

“Hush.” Loki whispered in her ear. The sound of him shushing her seemed to go on for an extremely long time.

Loki caressed her hair. Every movement seemed to free dark energy from the God’s fingertips, which would disperse like ink in the water.

Angrboda tried to separate from him, looking for distance. She had an immense and deeply rooted love for Loki. But he now took a son from her. And she wanted to know why.

Angrboda pulled her head enough, ignoring the pain to her scalp from the drawn hair, enough to have a glimpse of Loki’s face. “Why? Why are you showing this to me?” She hissed, not able to contain her rage, not even against him.

Loki just remained silent for a while. And then he huffed. “Because you don’t understand. This is not a game for you to play. You must stay away from Hvitserk Ragnarsson. Your love for him must cease immediately! His seed must never root in your womb. Do you hear me? Or I will take everything you love. And him. I love you dearly, my precious, precious Angrboda. I do not waste my time protecting Midgardians. But for you-”

“I know. And I am you humble and loyal servant, you know that.”

Loki chuckled, unimoressed, then let her go with a push.

The God jumped again in front of her, This time just standing there long enough so Angrboda would raised her eyes crossing his black irises. Besides her words, and ideas, the green of her eyes still stirred the need for violence and revenge. “Give me an answer. Give me a reason. Please I am begging you, I will always put myself in your hands, but give me an answer.”

Angrboda’s eyes were full of pain too. She didn’t demand to know every reason the Gods had. No, never. She wasn’t that important. But that specific game, that she wanted to know.

“You don’t have a clue, do you?”

Angrboda just waited, without answering. Because no, she didn’t have a clue. She never once dared to question Loki. She just obeyed, giving him everything, as her soul wished. And now she felt like she was owed an answer.

Loki sighed once more, and then he kneeled in front of her. The sudden softness he offered surprised Angrboda more than anything could have ever done.

Loki surprised her even more, moving his hands to caress lightly her face, as if he was trying to remove the tears from her cheeks. That peculiar black energy that freed from his skin, stained her skin, even if just for a second, before disappearing in the air, just like a dense liquid would do, in water.

Then, the God took her hands in his, holding her palms upwards. “I am not cruel, but I have an agenda. You exist because I wanted to. You exist because of me. I bent life and death, and time, for you. I did it because Floki is a dear earthling to me. And I knew how broken and miserable his life would become after your death.”

Angrboda gasped, holding her breath in. “My… Death?”

Loki's voice was sweet but contained a hissing bend to some letters, carrying the same threat that every beautiful serpent would.

She loved her favourite God dearly. If he demanded it, she would have given him her life out of devotion. But there was a part of her that hoped she could be like any other human – ignored and free. With a destiny she could be blind to, if not for the vague suggestions of the Seer.

The answer to her question was images and knowledge that no human should ever be allowed to see.

Angrboda saw her first memories. She saw the much younger face of her mother and father and the happiness they shared. She heard her father's voice tremble when confidently he decided to name her Angrboda.

Some other imagines seemed to be plucked out of her head. They were memories she had lost in her infant time and that now became clear.

It came the moment, in her life, when Floki was absent. Imprisoned. She was so cold. Helga was so tired and sad. So much despair and she could not do anything about. And then, the hunger came. Angrboda didn’t know what real hunger was. She didn’t know how to provide for herself.

Then, Angrboda saw her mother dig a shallow grave, weakened and broken. Her own mother had buried her right under her father’s workshop, in front of the beautiful waters of the Fjord she loved so much.

That was the end of her. Before she could even become a person. Before she could even see anything of the world that wasn’t that corner of forest.

Angrboda felt the shiver of death crossing her spine. She didn’t need to ask to know that those imagines were true. That was her fate in another reality.

She should have died. She shouldn’t exist.

A convulsive spasm made her entire body tremble, as the frenzy of those images, of those visions Loki gave her, split her head in half.

She suddenly felt the violent need to puke, as her stomach twisted and turned.

She raised her eyes full of tears, looking for mercy from the God.

“Do you understand now? I bent the rules already enough. Those children Freyja promised you? They may never see the light.”

“But- I don’t understand. Why is my fate being rewritten then?”

“You’re a mortal. You don’t need to know that. But trust my words – for the future of your people.”

Angrboda knew perfectly there were many things, infinite things, the God in front of her knew and didn’t speak of. And those things were the answers she needed. The answer to the meaning of existence itself.

She wasn’t greedy. She didn’t want to know it all. Just why her? What did she have that was different from anyone else? Why was her life written so she would meet a young death and then modified, just so now, it could be played with, pushing her in a trap of suffering, choices, and duties she was required to follow?

Loki sighed in front of her and remained silent for a long time.

“Your doubts hurt me, child.”

“I-” Angrboda lowered her eyes, bending her head first, and then her entire body, in a bow. “-I do not doubt in you. I doubt my existence.”

Loki’s presence seemed to surround her, as if he was holding her like a hug, but it wasn’t a physical feeling. He just leaned closer. “In time, you will know. And speaking of we don’t have any more time.”

Angrboda’s was shot back to reality, as violently as she had been ripped of it earlier.

As soon as she reopened her eyes and focused on what surrounded her, her first thought was a relief to be back to the deep, dark waters she had left.

Then every thought she had was tore by the pain of water in her lungs and stomach. Her entire body cramped for the absence of oxygen that kicked in, followed by the sudden panic of dying. She needed to get to the shore. Or, more immediatly to the surface.

But as soon as Angrboda formulated that thought, another hand reached for her.

As soon as she felt a hold on her, panic invaded her. It happened before, she knew it did, and it didn’t bring her to anything good.

Angrboda got grabbed by the arm and pulled vigorously out of the water.

As soon as fresh air slapped her face, the first thing Angrboda wanted to do was breathe in some very well-needed oxygen, but everything she managed to do was choke even more on the water that already congested her body.

Someone was swimming her to safety, and at that specific moment, her last worry in the world was thinking who that could be.

Angrboda got dragged out of the water, on the pebbly beach. Her naked skin felt every single grain of sand and stone grind her shoulders and back.

People around her were talking convulsively. Someone shouted. Just then, Angrboda realized even her ears too were full of water.

Her father appeared in her vision spectrum, he looked terrified and his aura felt even worse. For a second, she even forgot that she must have been drowning. Funny.

Floki broke her thoughts punching her firmly right in the middle of the chest. At first, her diaphragm felt like bursting, her entire ribcage just shattered and crumbled. But then, as soon as her body absorbed the hit, her burning lungs full of water were shaken by a violent spasm, a contraction that exploded in her violently coughing up all the water she had trapped in her chest.

The pain of her body trying to survive was unbearable.

Angrboda turned on the side, spitting and coughing up all the water she had inhaled. She shivered, still not quite aware of her surroundings. The first breath of pure air Angrboda managed to intake burned inside of her, like the deeper flames of Muspelheim.

Another breath followed before her brain could start functioning more.

As soon as her eyes raised, now more conscious, she met her father’s eyes, burning in worry and terrible fear. Helga was kneeling next to him, with the same look crossing her eyes.

Floki immediately leaned over, closing Angrboda's figure in his arms, pulling her in an uncoordinated but really tight hug. His concern and spiky, painful fear of losing her invaded Angrboda, mixing with her own emotions, which just now seemed to awake and stretch, becoming more and more overwhelming by the minute. The more she would recognize her emotions, the more she remembered about Loki and her visions.

The more information she had, the more they just trembled and spiralled around her. It felt like a thick and heavy thorny branch surrounded her, gripping tighter, and tighter around her soul, more and more painful by the second.

Angrboda's heart was broken, and she was scared. So deeply scared. For what she saw, for what she learned.

She was walking Midgard in borrowed time. Her fate was to die. And now, no more.

Or not?

Was that just a joke? Was she just a pawn, drawn by Loki out of boredom? Or was it actually the favouritism of her beloved God on her fate?

Did it mean that everyone's fate was now different from how it was scripted in the past? Or not?

She was an anomaly on Earth and in time. Now, she knew it wasn't just because of her nature and inherited abilities.

No.

Now, she knew. But she still didn't know enough. She didn't have all the answers. She did not have all the pieces of the puzzle.

A shiver crossed her spine. And it was far from being because of the adrenaline that now ran in her blood - it was the terror of her sudden uncertainty.

Angrboda hated to feel so weak.

With her emotions, her senses woke up too; she felt the cold airbrushing her naked and wet skin and she smelled her father's scent and the muffled sounds became more and more clear.

Just above her head, she could hear heavy panting.

"What is it with your family and not swimming, uh?" Ragnar breathed those words full of irony, clearly addressing Floki.

Floki didn't answer his joke, but Ragnar didn't really seem to expect any response anyway.

Angrboda didn't need to look over, to know he was lying on his back, catching his breath; she could feel the vibration of his energy through the sand.

For whatever reason, her powers felt different. Something she was used to doing so naturally, like breathing - now felt uncomfortable, heavy, not for her. Her soul was as tired of her abilities as her lungs of breathing.

She wanted to be normal and have a normal life. She wanted to think her fate was decided and just live. Now, she started to understand what it meant when people referred to her as cursed. Maybe she was. Loki didn't bless her - he cursed her and everyone around her.

Angrboda was stuck in thoughts of that sort for quite some time, not really knowing for how long.

But she gasped back to reality, when Floki finally moved, loosening up his hold on her. "Child-" He said, leaning over.

She didn't speak. Too terrified of what words could come out if she did.

"Oh-" Floki's voice bent with such sweetness and concern that for once Angrboda could not hold her pride high as a shield and push her tears back. Helga moved closer, looking for physical contact and closeness with her too, she quickly slid on her side, then, gently scooped Angrboda's face between her hands, softly looking for her eyes.

Angrboda felt like she was a child. Lost, scared, and not knowing what growing up would mean - and what the world is, besides her parents.

Helga brushed her thumb under Angrboda's nose, and then, held the material of her long-sleeve pressed against her nose. Just now, Angrboda recognized the feeling of a nosebleed and tasted its coppery flavour of her own blood on her tongue.

Of course, her nose was bleeding - always a clear sign of a strong or overwhelming usage of her abilities.

"It's ok... Everything it's ok." Helga's voice was like a chant, soft as a whispered lullaby.

But Angrboda knew nothing was ok.

She turned over, looking for Floki's eyes. Without the need for any words, he just nodded, first to her then to Helga, and then scooped her up between his arms, taking her to the warm safety of their tent.

Angrboda enjoyed feeling weightless for a few moments, and just pressed her head against her father's chest, not caring about the nosebleed - not even knowing if it was still going on, or anything else.

She even forgot about Ragnar Lothbok.

Helga followed them, Angrboda could feel her energy mixing with her father's shielding her from the world.

Floki gently placed Angrboda down in her bed, and straight away Helga was ready to wrap her in a warm blanket. "I'll boil an infusion to warm you up and calm everyone down." She explained gripping Angrboda's hand and Floki's shoulder before she got up.

Just when the two were left alone, Floki leaned closer to his daughter, gently caressing her hair. "What has happened, my child?"

Angrboda just looked at him, their eyes were a reflection of one another. But she didn't say anything. She just quietly sobbed, not even caring to wipe away her tears.

Floki held his breath, suddenly freezing - probably, he felt what she was feeling. But with no answers. "Was it the Gods? Was it- Please, talk to me."

"I can't. Please. Father, I- Everything is ok. I just want to rest." Angrboda fought against her fear and sadness and imposed herself to smile. Even if her eyes carried the dark omen of death.

She knew Floki would not be fooled. She knew that he understood something was wrong and unnatural, and already guessed what could be the root of her accident and immediate reaction. Yet, her father just nodded, and leaned closer, kissing her on the forehead, but left her space. "You know I'm always here. I will always be here when you need me. I love you more than life itself."

"I know father. I love you too."

That’s why I cannot speak.

She just thought those last words. Once again, Angrboda was alone, sedimented in her unspeakable, unbearable secrets.

She was so, so tired, with no willpower to fight, not now.

Now, she wanted to sleep.

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fangirlings-things · 4 years ago

Text

@maggiescarborough said: It’s me again, darling I’d love for another request if you want, it’s be 25 → "What the hell do you want me to say?" ; "What about I'm sorry?" with Hvitserk? Thank you so much and I hope you have fun writing!

A/N: yayyy some hvitty writing to cheer up my day!!! loved the request, hope you like the result love 💖

gif belongs to me || tag list: @charmingvalkyrie

Warnings: mentions of sex, language, a bit of angst

He had been out for hours.

Earlier in that day, you had said you would wait for him on his house. You had managed to sneak into his chambers behind his mother's back and had patiently awaited there with a smile on your face and the thought of spending time with him like you hadn't been able to do in the last week.

You waited, and waited, and waited. He never showed. When sadness filled your being and you began to regret being there, you got up from his bed where you had been sitting comfortably and made your way towards the door in heavy steps.

Just as you were about to get out though, the door was opened in front of you and Hvitserk stood there on the other side, a smile on his lips that disappeared as soon as he saw you standing there. That hurt you.

"(Y/N), have you been...?" he began, but the question died in his throat when realization filled his eyes and he stopped talking with a heavy sight.

"You forgot, of course" you said, a false ironic smile on your lips as you felt stupid. Stupid for being there for so long, when he clearly didn't even remember you existed. "I am leaving"

"No, wait" he held you back when you tried to pass by him, hands tight in your arms. You walked backwards to get out of the reach of his hands, and he then closed the door behind him before turning to look at you again. "I did nkt forgot, I got caught up in a thing with Ubbe"

You laughed at that, without any humor at all in your tone. "That is curious, since Ubbe has been here for hours now. He was the one who helped me get in" Hvitserk realized he had been just caught in a lie and turned his eyes to the floor, making you sight heavily. "If you did not want to see me you should have just said, Hvitserk, instead of making me wait here for your arrival like your dog"

"(Y/N), I..." as he straighted his head upwards again, the colar of his shirt moved and you saw a glimpse of something in his neck. Before you could contain yourself you marched towards him and roughly pulled at the colar, exposing the love bites and marks that covered his neck. Those were fresh, juding by the colors of it. Had just been made.

"You were with her. I should have known" you felt anger filling your chest and you took several steps back, trying to get as far away from him as you could. "How is Margrethe? Was she missing you?"

The provocation in your voice mixed with the clear pain on it made Hvitserk raise his arms and then let them fall around his waist again. "What the hell do you want me to say?"

"What about I'm sorry?" you snapped back at him, tears blurring your vision before you blinked and made them fall. "I'm sorry I said I loved you because that was a lie? I'm sorry I said I wanted to be with you because honestly I just want to keep fucking someone else?"

"It was not a lie" he replied almost instantly, eyes fixed on yours as he said so. "I do love you"

"Right. How did I forget that" you said and then stormed out of the room, passing by him with a push to his left shoulder that made it clear you did not want him to hold you back.

As you made your way back to your own house, a long walk in the night that at least brought some clearness to your thoughts, you thought about Hvitserk and how much you loved him. Unfortunately, he apparently did not feel the same.

As you got to your house you cleaned your tears and made your best to look normal, not wanting questions to be made about the fact that you had been crying. Just when you closed the door behind you and turned around, you saw your parents sitting at the fire in the middle of the room.

"We thought you would not be getting back until tomorrow" your father said, a mischievous smile on his lips. They knew you had been seeing Hvitserk, of course.

"Floki!" your mother slapped his arm and then looked back at you. "Did everything go well, my child? Are you feeling good?"

"I'm just going to sleep. Goodnight" you said before you began to cry again and walked away towards your bed.

As you did so, you heard your father saying something. "I think (Y/N) is hurt, Helga"

Oh, father, you thought to yourself. You have no idea how right you are.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #prompt imagine #history vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings imagine #vikings #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk fanfic

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bloody-wonder · 3 years ago

Note

top 5 sexy rat boys

lmao okay okay so for context - this is a reference to that uquiz that psychoanalyzed you based on which type of men you found attractive and diagnosed me with being aroace af caring for a person's personality more than for their looks and liking men who are "sexy in a rat kind of way". i was given carte blanche as to whether to make this about real men or the fictional ones so i decided to do both bc tbh the sexy rat factor often comes from the character they play.

this was extreeeeemly hard to narrow down ngl which is why the end result is kinda random

1. dane dehaan as lucien carr in kill your darlings - this one is ranked first simply bc he was the first one who came to my mind when i saw this ask. an epitome of "sexy rat boy" you might say. one reviewer described his looks as a "junkie suffering from withdrawal" which i'll never forget bc objectively that aesthetic shouldn't be attractive but somehow is to me lol

2. robert james-collier as thomas barrow in downton abbey looks pretty conventionally attractive, you might say, and yet the moment i saw him carrying a tray with glasses in ep1 i knew he's gonna be evil, gay and my absolute fave. and tbh i found the amount of times the narrative punished him for being a sexy rat quite rude

3. alfie allen as theon greyjoy in game of thrones. so usually when i start consuming a new piece of media i decide who's gonna be my fave pretty quick by choosing the most vicious bastard in the room. i'm not about "character development" and characters growing on me or me radically changing my mind about them almost never happens. but theon was one of those rare cases. ig shame on me for not recognizing him for the sexy rat boy he is right from the start

4. gustaf skarsgård as floki in vikings. a local sexy rat viking committing rat crimes bc he finds his viking bro sexy and is jealous

5. james frain as the sexy rat vampire in true blood. idk this character's name bc i haven't watched the show lmao. i just saw james frain in some movie and thought daaamn this man should play a sexy rat guy and the closest thing i could find was true blood but i wasn't gonna watch two whole seasons just for him to appear so what i ended up watching was a 30 minute compilation of his scenes on youtube. 10/10 i wish i could watch all shows this way, saves time

honorable mentions to ezra miller as kevin in we need to talk about kevin and cody fern as satan's offspring in american horror story s8

#asks #personal tag #movie tag #tv show tag #what can be better than a treacherous fictional man who may or may not be queer played by an actor who's not conventionally attractive #or is #idk anymore if they are don't ask me

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solinarimoon · 3 years ago

Note

For the blorbo and other related characters ask post!!!

If no one has asked already: TLK

If they have asked already: Peaky Blinders

If they’ve also asked already: Vikings

If they’ve also also asked already: The Mummy

Or… ya know… all of them 🤣

Hi darling!!! Happy Valentine’s Day! Thank you for asking!! This is so fun! (Get ready bc I’m doing them all!) the answers are below the cut. There were a few I didn’t have for The Mummy.

I already answered TLK for @mrsalwayswrite

You can read those here

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

PB: This is Tommy. It just has to be. He’s so tortured and flawed and Cillian Murphy is superb.

Vikings: Hvitserk. Hands fucking down. Again, he is beautifully tortured and flawed and I want to fix him. And Marco was perfect in the role.

The Mummy: Evie. I just love her whole character. She’s proud of who she is and makes no apologies. She geeks out about things and is also competent and strong and wonderful.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

PB: Ada. I just love her alright. Adore her and want to be her friend.

Vikings: Floki. He’s an excellent character, has so much depth, but also I just find him precious and cute.

The Mummy: Rick.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

PB: Johnny Dogs - I don’t know why I just really appreciate his character and enjoy watching him.

Vikings: Helga. I honestly would have loved more development for her and to see more of her and Floki.

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

PB: I love whenever they mention or show Isaiah!

Vikings: He’s not incredibly obscure, but I thoroughly enjoy Emperor Charles in Frankia!

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

PB: Esme. She pisses me off and makes me happy. I know she was right sometimes and she was wrong sometimes and I just enjoy her.

Vikings: I mean, can Hvitserk be this too? If not, then Rollo.

The Mummy: Johnathan is perfect little meow meow material

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

PB: Aunt Polly. I’d have fun poking her buttons and always frustrating her but then give her a hug.

Vikings: Ragnar. Because I think he would be fun to annoy the hell out of.

The Mummy: Ardeth!

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

PB: This would be Luca Changretta. He is the protagonist, I know, so you’re not supposed to really like him. But he just annoyed me whenever he was on screen. Bleh.

Vikings: Ingrid.

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aliceaddellheidde · 4 years ago

Text

His Celtic girl

A/N: This one is for @youbloodymadgenius 1K celebration. It´s first time I´m doing something like that. I lost my grandfather and bunny while writing so I´m sorry if it sucks.

Prompts in bold.

WORDS: 4869

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, smut & violence (graphic), blood, swearing, death

PAIRING: Ivar x OC (Moko)

DISCLAIMERS: I tried to be historically accurate as much as possible. I don’t hate Christians. English isn´t my first language.

Moodboard by me; pics from internet.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Moko from Mokosh – Slavic goddess of fertility & water.

Ivar awakes from his long sleep. His head is hurting like Thor hit him with his hammer. He remembers fighting. Saxon's soldier with dagger. Hvitserk in tears. Grey sky. And then dark.

When he opens his eyes he sees wooden ceiling and small window on his left. „You are finally up.” says voice from his right with foreign accent and when he turns his head that way he sees young woman sitting on a chair by fire, mixing something in kettle. He tries to sit but agonizing pain stops him. „If I was you I wouldn't move. I bet your body still hurts.” It does but he will not tell it to that girl. With clenched teeth he pushes himself up, leaning against wall. „Who … ?” he tries to say - his throat dry, voice raspy. „Who are you?” he asks after few moments. „Moko.” She smiles a little, handing him cup. He watches it suspiciously before he takes it and drinks small gulps. „You have weird name.” he snorts. „Says nameless man whose I found on battle field almost dead. With no one around. Forgotten.” „I'm the king of the world! You stupid bitch knows nothing!” he screams, throwing cup her way, his calmness turning into anger in mere seconds. „Don’t look like king to me.” she shrugs and turns to kettle again. He´s fuming, looking for something to throw at her. All he finds is fur over his legs. Fuck. Did she see them? „Why am I here anyway? You said I was dead. How I could be when I'm here, hm?” he asks with scorn. She said nothing. „Answer me! Where am I? Where is my brother!” He punches wooden bed under him. „I don’t know. My dog found you and I took you to my home. Now I think it was a mistake.” She was standing with hands on her hips. „I don’t need your help! I can take care of myself!” „Go then! I don’t give damn if you do!” she screams, stepping closer to him. He sees red. „At least I will not have to take care of crippled idiot!” He throws himself onto her but she just swiftly moves away from him, hand on sword. He almost screams from pain as his body hit the floor. Yet he stops himself, spitting blood her way. Then he finally looks at her properly.

She is short, long dark hair falling to her waist, dressed in light yellow dress with golden armoured corset, belt around hips with few small pouches and sword scabbard. Her widen eyes watching him like falcon. He moves again and she unsheathes her weapon. ,,You are not gonna kill me.” he smirks. ,,No, but I can still hurt you.” They are watching each other for few more minutes before she puts sword away, takes cloth from table and cautiously sits next to him on the floor. He flinches when her hand moves to his face to wipe blood away. „Look, I took you here to take care of you. Once you are healed, you can leave. But until then it's better for you to stay with me.” She smiles when he lowers his head to avoid her gaze. ,,Ivar.” he whispers. ,,I'm sorry?” „My name is Ivar.” ,,You have weird name.” He only chuckled. ,,How about you take bath and I finish food? Then we can talk.” He looks at his useless legs and back at her. ,,Oh, I will give you some privacy.” She turns away with flushed face but he stops her. ,,Wait. I ... I need your help.” He already hates idea of her touching him or seeing him naked but he has no other choice. ,,So now you need my help?” she teases. ,,Shut up.”

She goes for water while he is looking around her home. There is big fire pit in the middle of room, on right side of room is wooden table with different knives, daggers, food, plates, bowls and cups. Next to it is longer lower table with wooden benches and flowers on it. On left side is his bed and then hutch with different herbs, flowers, books and bottles. Ivar never saw material like that.

„It´s glastos. Or how they call it here in Anglia – glass.” says Moko when she comes back with two buckets of water. „We are still in Wessex?” „Sussex. But I always wanted to travel around the world. Meet new people and try new things.” „So are you Christian then?” „Oh Gods, no!” she laughs. „You are not Viking either. Then what are you?” He watches her as she is moving around house. She takes few herbs and puts them into tub and then fills it with boiling water. „I'm from old Celtic tribe called Anartes. We lived in Europe. But one day my family decided that we should move and so we did. I lived here with my parents and brother. But they are all dead. And now it´s my purpose to keep our legacy alive. And what about you Ivar?” „I'm Viking.” „Rus´ Viking?” „No. I´m from Norway. How do you know about the Rus?” „My people had deals with them. We exchanged animals, food and other stuff.” „Have you ever been in Kiev or Novgorod?” „No. But my father was there once.” „They are Christians now.” „Poor people. How do you know them?” „I had to r… . I travelled there with my friend. But then my brother came for me to fight king Alfred. We had some unfinished business.” „You were talking about you brothers in your dreams. Asking one of them for forgiveness. His name is Hvitserk. Am I right?” Ivar is quiet. „I don’t know what happened to him. Maybe they imprisoned him or he died.” „My brother is not dead!” he screams and she jumps a bit. „You don’t know that.” „I have to save him. Like he saved me.” „You are so stubborn! When I found you I thought you were dead but you were breathing still. I took care of you for three bloody days and you are still wounded. Yet you want to go to Winchester and be hero for your brother?” she wasn't screaming but she was angry. „That´s exactly what I want to do.” he half-smiled. „And how? You don’t have an army. You will never break through their defence.” His upper lip twitches in indignation because she is right. „I can´t leave him there. What would you do if it was your brother?” „Saved him.” „See?” „But not if I was hurt and with no warriors.” „Then we will find some.” „Ivar, these people are Christians and they love Alfred because he won over The great heathen army. They will never defraud him.” „We will see about it.” „In few days I´m going to Chichester. I can ask if someone knows what happened to survived Vikings.” „I'll go with you.” She sighted and checked water temperature. „I have few conditions if you want to go with me.” Ivar rolls his eyes. „What do you want from me?” „You will sit on your arse and will not try to investigate on your own or try to kill anybody. Deal?” „Deal.” „Great. Now come and have a bath.”

„Earlier you said I´m crippled idiot. How did you know?” Ivar asks while he takes his tunic off. „Well, I had to take your braces off of your legs and I saw them.” He frowns at her. „Help me with trousers. But keep your eyes on my face.” he growls. „Is there a problem I saw them?” she asks as her small hands untie strand from around his hips. „They are hideous.” „I don’t really care about it.” Her brown-green eyes bore into his blue ones. „What do you care about then?” „If I and my animals will be healthy and if we will have enough food, water and home. And overall if I will have long, happy life.” „That´s so deep.” Ivar rolls his eyes. „Stop mocking me. I like simple life.” She helps him into tub, avoiding looking at him, gives him cloth and walk back to kettle. „Have you ever been with a man?” he asks suddenly. „Why?” „You are shy. Can´t even look at me when I´m naked. So I assumes you are still virgin.” he has wicked smile on his face. „That´s not something you need to know.” „Hm, maybe.” he smirks. „I also want to know what is all that.” He points on herbal hutch. „That´s my work. I´m making potions, herbal remedies and different things from it for other people.” „Clever girl.” „Yes, I´m.” She straightens her back and he laughs at her. „What did you put in bath?” „Lavender. You can make oil from it and eat it.” Ivar thoughtfully takes herb from water and bits a small bite. And second later she smacks his head. „Not from that dirty water! That´s disgusting.” „I don’t like the taste anyway.” he frowns. „You didn’t try my lavender cake.” „I need proper food. Meat. Not some stupid cakes.” „It´s almost ready. Better wash your hair and come eat.” When he goes out of the tub she hands him clean towel and clothes, averting looking at him again. „Virgin.” he murmurs for himself.

Over lunch – deer with plum sauce – they get to know each other. He tells her about his life, family and wars, hiding some details he´s ashamed of, and is pleasantly surprised how excited she is. „My parents taught me and my brother how to fight. My mother was warrior alongside my father.” „I usually had few my the most trustworthy warriors for my protection. I can´t really move on legs but in hand-to-hand combat I´m perfect.” „Maybe we can learn from one another.” „Maybe.”

After food Ivar meets all her animals and she shows him her gardens. Few metres from them is river with small boat. „It´s yours?” „Yes.” „It looks funny. I was on massive ones. My friend Floki built them. This one here is just joke.” „Ivar I swear that if you make any more stupid comments about my things I´ll leave you outside!” „Oh come on darling. You wouldn't do that. Not after your hard work.” He twirls slowly around his stick and bows. „You even put lavender oil into my hair.” He tosses his braids over shoulder. She laughs so much that she misses how he´s looking at her with goofy smile.

*few days later*

Ivar feels movement next to him and sits with dagger in hand. „It´s just me, you idiot.” says Moko, ruffling his hair on way down. „It´s still dark! Can´t we sleep a bit longer?” he shouts after her. „No. Today we´re going to Chichester so you better come for breakfast.”

In those couple of days he lived with Moko he learnt a lot about her, her people and culture. She was teaching him how to speak in her language, she showed him all her herbs and flowers and her knowledge in fighting, manufacture and farming. He wasn´t really fond of all of those things but he liked how excited she was when she was speaking about them or doing them. And if he tries those things too, oh gods, she even hugs him. It felt good.

Ivar is seating in covered carriage, petting her dog and listening to her singing. They travels for hours now with only one break and Ivar needs to sleep but he can´t. He somehow wants to protect her even when he doesn’t know why and how. „We will settle down here. Tomorrow morning we are in Chichester.” Her voice interrupts him from his thoughts. He looks out from carriage into darkening countryside. „Don´t just stare. Bring the chicken and make fire. If your puny regal ass can do that.” she smirks and starts to build a tent. Ivar is used to it by now, nonetheless he is surprised with how much ease she´s talking to him. He did what he could but that damn fire not and not to burst to life. „I thought you Vikings are fearful people and you can´t even make fire. Want some help?” He blames his shaking hands on cold not her presence. She makes fire in mere moments and then put kettle on it. „We will have chicken stew with vegetable and mushrooms. Is it ok?” He nods and watches with dilated pupils when she knocks off the poor bird. „It´s the last time I can have chicken or rabbit before Ostara.” „Then what?” „Bath in spring water, sacrifice hare and chicken but leave eggs for altar. We will have flower crowns and we will sow few seeds.” „Oh no, no. Leave me out of this. I will not have flowers in my hair.” „It will be fun.” „I doubt it.” „Shush and cut this please.”

Ivar sees stone towers and soldiers guarding big gate into Chichester. They are watching them suspiciously until Moko asks them for direction to market. „Don´t forget your name.” she warns him when she´s helping him out of carriage. „Leofric. I know.” he rolls his eyes. „Try to be more nice. Smile.” He turns to her and smile. Then smirks when she blushes. „I will find us room to sleep and you can put things on table. And leave your hood on.” „Gods woman! I´m not a child.” She giggles and walks away.

„We have room for three nights … Leofric, let him go!” Moko rushes to him and tries to separate him from another young man. „He tried to steal!” says Ivar. „I just wanted to see it better.” protests the other man, still with Ivar´s hand around neck. Moko smacks it and he growls at her but let go. „Thank you milady.” The other man tries to kiss her hand but she turns it palm up. „Return that bottle you stole. You may hurt yourself with it.” She waits few seconds and when nothing happens she jumps at poor man, turns his arm behind his back and yanks bottle from his hand. Ivar watches her with awe on his face. „Get off, idiot.” she spat at pathetic man and they both laugh when he runs away.

„That´s not funny Moko.” says Saxon soldier, walking to them. „Osgar, welcome.” „I see you keep up with tradition.” he snickers. „Every year someone tries something. They knows I can protect myself and my stuff but still.” „And you brought some friend.” He looks at Ivar sitting on stool. „That´s Leofric. I´m taking care of him.” „What happened?” „Bear in forest.” Ivar snorts. „I can say God is with him when he found the best healer in whole Anglia.” „Stop it Osgar!” Moko blushes again. „Rather tell me what happened after battle. Last time you didn’t have time.” „There is not much to say. We captured survivors and turned them into Christians. They live in their settlements. Our king trusts them.” „And you don’t?” He smirks. „I kind of envy those whose ran away. You knows my parents were Vikings, right? I live for day I will leave this land and will live like them.” he says quieter and looks around if someone hears him. „Adventurous Osgar. Any news about their kings?” „As far as I know Harald and Ivar are dead. But one son of Ragnar lives with Alfred in Winchester. I don’t know his real name. But his given one is Athelstan.” „Thank you. And what about your family?” „Good. My little girl is fighting with everyone and my wife isn´t very happy about it. My son still has mark on his face. He´s on guard now and I should replace him. See you later.” Day goes well, some of Moko´s customers comes and after sunset they goes to tavern for good night sleep.

„There is only one bed!” Ivar exclaims when they enter the bedroom. „Afraid of sleeping with me?” „What? No!” He puts their belongings on table, trying to calm down his too loud beating heart. „I'm going to have a bath. You will be ok here?” He nods. She disappeared behind the curtain and he´s listening to her movements and noises she makes when she dives into warm water.

Moko feels water in the tub move. When she opens her eyes she sees Ivar sitting next to it. „What are you doing?” she squeaks. Ivar chuckles. „What does it look like? I have to wash as well. Or you want me dirty in bed?” She sinks more into water, only her head visible. He puts his hands into water again and his fingers brush her calf. She freezes and he smirks. „Your skin is so soft.” And she's blushing again. But both can play this game. „Will you wash my hair, please?” she asks innocently and his hand pauses in the middle of his face, eyes wide, shining. „Are you sure? I never done this.” Moko moves to him. „Please.” She turns her back to him and he clumsily takes her hair in one hand while the other is putting soap on it. Then he moves to her scalp. „That fells nice.” When he's done he smooths it on her back, his fingers lightly touching her skin. „Thank you. Give me a minute and you can go in as well.” She quickly rinses her head. „Close your eyes.” „Why?” „I have to go out and you can´t see me.” „I saw many naked women.” She glares at him over shoulder. „Fine.” But of course he cheated. He watches as she stands up and puts on linen tunic. After that she helps him in tub, she washes his hair and gives him his clothes.

„I said to the owner of this tavern that you are my husband.” says Moko nonchalantly when they are tuck in bed under warm duvet. „What!?” He sits up and frowns. „So we can have same room” ,,You are little minx.” he laughs and move closer to her. ,,What are you doing?” ,,Keeping us warm.” She turns her back to him, hiding her face into pillow. ,,Good night little minx.” he smiles into dark.

They wake up tangled at each other limbs. Moko tries to get up but Ivar´s arms around her are too strong. He nuzzles her hair and murmurs something. ,,Ivar, we have to go and sell otherwise we will have no money.” He groans when he opens his eyes. ,,I'll come later and brings you breakfast.” ,,You better be quick.” She kisses his cheek, throws her clothes on and she's gone. Ivar is still frozen on the bed processing what just happened.

,,I have bread, meat and wine.” ,,Oh, you are saviour! I'm starving.” He gives her plate with a cup on it. ,,Where is your food?” ,,I ate. Have only one hand free.” He waves with his right one and she grins at him. ,,Is it ok if you work until I finish?” ,,Sure.” He sells few pots and potions already when Osgar comes to them. ,,Hello you two.” ,,Good morning. Do you need something?” Moko asks. ,,Just to say you the news.” ,,What news?” ,,King Alfred will come here in five days to deal with Vikings in prison.” Moko sees Ivar stiffs. ,,Thank you. What do you think he will do to them?” ,,Probably gives them an option between conversion or death.” „And do you know if Viking´s prince will come too? I would like to see him.” He shrugs and goes back doing his work. „We need a plan how to get my brother and leave this stupid country.” „You don’t wanna kill Alfred?” „Of course I want! But as you said, I need an army. I avenged death of my father on his grandfather and now I´ll avenge my own death on him.” „And rule Wessex?” „Maybe?” „Good luck then.” „You will not stay with me?” „I want to explore the world.” „If you will help me with Alfred I´ll give more treasure than you will ever need for fulfil your dream.” She looks at him sceptically. „Really?” „Word of the prince.” „I will think about it.”

„That one next to king on left is my brother Hvitserk.” Ivar whispers into her ear when Alfred comes to Chichester. „You remember our plan?” „Yes.”

They have to wait until next day but when Hvitserk comes to Moko´s stall she's nervous. He's handsome as Ivar but with lighter hair. They talk about different herbs for his problems and then she takes small dagger from her sleeve. „Prince Hvitserk, your brother Ivar wants you to have this.” „My brother is dead. I saw him fall in battle.” „I can assure you he's alive.” „How can I trust you?” „Because she's telling you the truth my brother.” says Ivar from shadow behind her. Hvitserk flinches a bit and can´t believe his eyes. „You are a witch! This is some stupid trick. My brother is dead!” „You see he's not.” Hvitserk slowly walks to Ivar and then he suddenly hugs him with teary eyes. „You fucking idiot! How comes gods saved you?” „They sent Moko. She took care of me.” Hvitserk looks at her and she smiles at him. „Nice to meet you.”

*month later in Winchester*

Ivar is excited all morning as helps Moko with selling. He sees men Hvitserk told him they are their allies when they walks around courtyard. They planned everything carefully. It took some time to collect enough men for attack to Winchester royal villa.

Once the night falls they moves. Quietly under veil of darkness their backups shoots guards on walls and at the gate and they are inside dim corridor. Hvitserk comes out from his hiding spot in kitchen with few warriors and silently they go forward to king´s chambers. His legs hurt and he's cursing on himself because Moko told him to rest during day but he didn’t listen. He sees her in the front of the group with plaited hair, sword ready for fight, serious look on painted face. Beautiful, clever and dangerous. That's what she is. Hvitserk is next to her eating something he stole from kitchen.

Villa is suspiciously soundless and Ivar is suspicious. He feels it in his bones. It´s several minutes after they killed guards and until now they didn’t meet any more nor there was horn signal. For sure someone found bodies. But they have to do it. Even if it´s trap.

They reach their destination and Osgar goes first. The room is dark, only light from candles elucidate it. Ivar gives signal to his men and they encircle bed. Another signal and they are penetrating it with their swords. At same moment all other three doors of the room open and Alfred runs in with his soldiers, attacking mercilessly. Ivar watches as his warriors die one by one, outnumbered. „Fight! Fight!” he screams, killing Saxons on his way to Alfred. Then everything freezes as he watches Moko moving between soldiers like air, sword and axe wet from their blood. One of Alfred´s bodyguards cuts her cheek and she stabs him in the neck, decapitating another one with other hand. Now she's face to face with king. What nobody awaits is Elsewith with sword assaulting Moko. English woman cuts her deep into hip when axe, thrown by Ivar, cuts through her back right after. His raging scream encourages his men. He assaults Alfred with blazing fury, maniac urge in the eyes. He effectively disarms young king, cuts his neck, fresh blood splashes him. Ivar throws himself onto Alfred stabbing him with all his power, shouting in old Norse, breathing heavy air with smell of sweat, dead bodies and taste of iron. Surviving Saxons watch in disbelieve and fear before they meet same fate from his fellow Vikings.

Things happens so quickly after that. One moment he is in king´s chamber, then he´s fighting his way from villa and in carriage fleeing into safety. He can feel adrenaline flows through his veins. Hvitserk sits opposite him, covered in blood too. They smile at each other. Moko´s next to him, patching her wound. „We did it.” he says victoriously and suddenly kisses her. She doesn’t protest and he's happy.

Following three months they are travelling and stealing all over Anglia. After that they build boats for way home. Night before their departure Ivar and Hvitserk are sitting by fire, enjoying peaceful quiet. „Will you go back to Norway or you´ll stay with Moko?” asks Hvitserk. „I don’t know what are you talking about brother. Of course I´m going with you!” „Are you sure Ivar? I see how you are looking at her.” Ivar glares at his laughing brother. „She doesn’t want to stay with me. She wants to travel.” „Then I´m gonna tell her i´ll accompanish her.” He turns to leave when a cup hits his head. „Don´t you dare!” Ivar screams. „Why not? She's free woman. Maybe I´ll ask her to marry me.” Hvitserk walks slowly backward with smirk, watching Ivar crawling on the ground as fast as he can to Moko´s tent.

She walks out of it at same time as they show up. „Hello boys. Can I help you?” „Ivar wants to speak with you.” Hvitserk blurts out and Ivar hits him in the ankle. „Sure. I just need to get some food.” „I will get it. You two have fun.” „Come in then.” Moko smiles at Ivar.

„What you wanna talk about?” she asks, sitting next to him on bed. „Are you really sure you want to leave Anglia? And travel by yourself?” he asks straight away. „We spoke about it. I have small crew, you know.” „I know. It´s just … I don’t trust them that much. I would like to have you next to me more.” „As your friend, bodyguard or …?” „My right hand.” He looks at her. „And as my queen too, maybe?” She´s quietly staring at him and in next moment her lips are on his, her soft body collides with his hard one as they fall on bed.

His hands are on her hips, pushing her more and more against his prick. She takes off his tunic, her fingers grazing his tattoos. „You like them?” She nods and kisses him again. „Have you ever done this?” „No.” „Let me make you feel good then.” He is nervous like never before but also determined to do it right, to show her he really cares about her. His fingers are trembling when he unties her dress and takes it off. She tries to hide from his curious eyes but he catches her hands, kissing them and putting them next to her. „You are beautiful.” He kisses her whole shivering body until he reaches her warm core. When he looks back at her she's watching him already with flushed cheeks. They hold their gaze when his tongue touches her and she lifts a bit from bed. He's not stopping her, only diving his head deeper. She's making those small noises he knew were good sign. „Ivar.” she moans his name. „I want more.” He hovers over her, kissing her. „If it hurts too much, you have to stop me, ok? I might not be able to control myself.” „Ok.” „Do you trust me?” „Yes.” He pushes slowly in her tight hole and kisses her tears away. „I'm sorry my Queen.” Her nails scratches his back, leaving bloody marks when he bottoms up. He waits few moments, then moves slowly, searching for any clues of her discomfort. None appears. She even smiles at him slightly. „Feels good?” „Yeah, it´s nice.” „Should I move faster, or is this fine?” „I have no idea!” she laughs. „You are the one with experiences.” „Yeah, right.” He nuzzle into her neck, his hips hitting hers as he quickens and she surprisingly pushes against him.

They are lost in their own pleasurable world, they didn’t even notice Hvitserk when he comes with food. He smirks proudly and walks away.

***

„I never thought I will love someone again but it happened.” Ivar smiles in Moko´s hair as they lies under warm furs, her head on his chest. „You love me?” „Yes. You have bewitched me, body and soul. My Celtic girl.” „I love you too Ivar.”

*next day*

A storm comes from nowhere and Moko´s watching as ship with Vikings is burning from lightning strike. „Can´t we help them somehow?” „I'm sorry my love. They are probably all dead by now.” But much to his own surprise he can see some men jumping into the sea. „If I´ll die saving those idiots, I´m going to annoy you in Valhalla forever.” „And I will enjoy every second of it, my king. Now go and be a hero.” He kisses her briefly and then shuts orders. At the end they saves ten men but loose control over own boat.

***

„Land! Land!” Ivar hears shouting and stands up to see if it´s really true. „Not really how I imagined my travels but it´s still new land to explore.” Moko says next to him, hugging him. „Our new start my Queen.”

She turns in his embrace as they are looking towards their new adventures.

#Youbloodymadgenius1kCelebration #ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings #history vikings #hvitserk #imagine vikings #imagine ivar #vikings fanfic #ivar ragnarsson #his #celtic #girl

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justfangirlthingies · 3 years ago

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Heeey, my dear friend Luna! 🤎❤

How are you doing? I hope you're good!! Are driving lessons OK? 🚘🚗 and otherwise? Don't forget to take care and drink lot of water! 🥛🥤

Just sending some love for you from your love Floki:

From your another love, Daniel:

And from me:

Anyway, have a

n i c e d a y!

Sincerely,

Dominika

+ Floki and Daniel😘

Dominika omg! Ily so so much, like I think I need to add an angel to your tag or smth cause you deserve one!

I'm alright and I hope you are too💕

I have two well actually 4 lessons left, but we always have two lessons at once and I will schedule those as soon as I pass the theoretical written exam thingy.

I am staying hydrated no worries. I hope you stay save and drink plenty of water as well 🥰

I love them so much!!!!!!!!!!!! You made me fangirl so hard with this ask omg. Like my little fangirl heart needs to calm down

I always love seeing you in my askbox darling🥰💕

I hope you have an amazing day and I wish you lots of love as well!🥰🥰😍💕💕💖😊🤭

#luna answers #ask me stuff #mootsies #dominika 🐫#luna feeds her daniel brühl obsession #and other people encourage it #floki my love

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

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Hi,darling!! Can i request modern Floki with the prompts:“I missed being with you like this,” “I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.” from the Smut + Fluff Prompts. And from the smut list prompts: 106“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.” 97“Stop distracting me.” I hope you have fun writing these!!!🧡🧡🧡

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, Maybe a Floki being a bit OOC.

You shivered loudly as coldness seeped through your bones, due to the cold you had found as soon you had arrived to Floki’s cabin.

‘Let’s go to the cabin in the woods’ had suggested your boyfriend Floki ‘… we’ll have fun and we can fuck as loudly as we want’.

And once you had arrived to it, you had immediately discovered that it was damnably cold and that the wood logs he had thought would be already there, weren’t, because Ragnar has used all of them, when he had visited the cabin.

Hence your ‘relaxing vacation’ had started in the ‘best way’, but being the girlfriend of an engineer came in quite handy, even more when your boyfriend started cutting wood as if it was the easiest thing ever, eventually having the chimney fuming in a matter of a few minutes.

Although, you had to admit, it was still too cold for you, hidden under various layers of clothing and blankets, still shivering.

And as soon as your boyfriend turned around to look at you, he noticed it and rushed to the sofa where you were trying to warm yourself up, setting up beside you, in barely his sweater and his pants.

“Come here, shivering ghost of mine” he joked “I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer”.

“You haven’t been doing a great job with it, honestly” you mumbled, grumpy because you disliked cold weather.

You had honestly wanted to pass a bit of time together with Floki, all alone, since he had been pretty busy helping Ragnar with his own projects and as much as you were glad he was having fun with his besties (and true love), you missed him.

Even more when he’d be on work journey far away from you.

“Stop being grumpy, little one” he mumbled, with a stern tone, but it was all lost when he giggled with typical laugh, making also your mouth open, although you closed it immediately since your teeth started clacking loudly, as Floki, brought you closer to him, warm not only for the close proximity to the fire, but also the physical activity “… I promise it’ll be warmer, soon”.

“I hope it for you, because I don’t want to do this the ‘Twilight’ way” you replied, as you snuggled closer to his chest, almost, researching his warmth in the earnest, and he smiled lightly, his lips falling down onto your frozen forehead.

His big hands moved to gently brush soothing circles to warm up your insides.

“… explain to me again, the reason behind you watching that awful shit” he teased you, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at Floki’s scarce knowledge of pop-culture.

That man could dash out every knowledge existing about boats, trains and airplanes, but on your first date you had mentioned the ‘Looney Tunes’ and he had looked at you like you were crazy.

You found it adorable.

Even more when you’d make him sit down through a rewatch of your favorite TV series.

(He had had told you to get a female friend at a certain point, but he still teared up a bit when his OTP became canon).

And maybe that was why he had brought you in a place where technologies didn’t work so well.

Although you were struggling to accept Floki’s faith as your own alongside his way of immersing himself in nature, you still tried to support him and see his way.

Even through bonding experience like this one.

(And many more, you hoped, if you didn’t end up frozen).

Soon, still the room warmed up, and you couldn’t help but purr against Floki’s ministration, more than happy to simply lull yourself in a conscious nap, as Floki, mumbled a few errands you had to do for the cabin, mostly to keep it running.

“I hadn’t realized that I had to take care of so many things” he mumbled “… remember me to never lend the cabin again to Ragnar, that savage raided it basically”.

“I’d add ‘change the sheets’ to the list” you added as you sent Floki a worried look and he assumed a dreading one.

“… I’d be also worried of the couch”.

You almost puked back there, glad that your various layers weren’t allowing your ass to touch the fabric of the couch.

“I am sanitizing this entire house” you blurted out, offended as Floki erupted in laughter.

“You’d have less trouble in burning the cabin, if he seriously brought somebody in here”.

“I’ll have a conversation with him about boundaries” you commented, remembering that Floki’s colleague had been rather impressed to find you and Floki together, since you were the polar opposite of the man, but he hadn’t dared saying anything.

Even more after you had shushed him from complimenting with Floki with an harsh look.

“Please do… I’ll ask somebody to record it” he smirked, as he delved a light kiss to your nose “… mostly because I can’t wait to see you rip Ragnar a new one”.

“I’ll also ask him to share custody of you, since these last months I haven’t seen you in the slightest!” you protested lightly, more against Ragnar than Floki, but the poor man still couldn’t help but feel guilty.

It was also hard on him not to see you for entire months, except through the phone, which wasn’t in the slightest as satisfying as holding you in his arms.

“I also missed being with you like this” he commented, as he lightly moved his warm nose, against your frozen one, in a soft eskimo kiss, before his hands lightly tangled in yours, bringing out your face from your hiding corner on his chest to look at you in the eyes, and reassure you that he had also missed you.

And who were you to deny your beloved boat-builder, when he looked so so truthful in his words.

And so handsome.

You bit softly your lips, as you took in the intensity of his gaze, and then those soft lips, and beautiful face structure…

Gosh, it had been such a long time since when you had last been able to watch him so so peacefully that it made you appreciate again all over the untypical beauty of your beloved genius.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” he asked, making you shook you away from the admiring moment you had been having over him, seeing an intense and playful glimmer appear in his eyes, as you indeed bit your lips again “Cause if you did we’re having sex”.

“It would certainly help with the entire warmth situation” you mumbled softly, as you loosely brought him closer “… but I am not fucking you on this couch”.

And like that, you got up with your various layers and strolled away from a preying Floki, who observed you as you moved around the room, examining every surface, in search of somewhere that hadn’t been touched previously by Ragnar.

And your gaze found the kitchen table.

“Want to get back to your buddy, sweetheart?” you asked as you lovingly moved the blankets away from your body and discarded your jacket.

“Oh, if I didn’t love you already so much, I am sure that my heart would burst out of my chest, now” he muttered as he came to you, gently helping you to move across the table as he discarded easily his sweater, making you lust after the lean muscles he owned.

“I am sure it isn’t your chest bursting out of something, right now” you replied jokingly, gaining a quick serious look from him as he grabbed you tightly to hold you against the table, making you grind against his length, already aroused.

“Stop distracting me” he chastised you as a sudden glimmer of dominance appeared in his eyes “… just relax and let me warm you up!”.

#Floki #Floki Reader #Floki x Reader #Floki/Reader #Floki Imagine #Floki Fic #Floki Fluff #Fluff #Floki Smut #Smut #Floki Ask #Floki Drabble #Floki Blurb #Floki Moodboard #Vikings #HIstory Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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bxthharmon · 5 years ago

Text

White Butterflies, pt i. || Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader

Words: 1768

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Summary: Y/N struggles to adapt to the world she’s been forced into, but it’s not all as bad as it seems.

A/N: This quarantine’s giving me so much time to write lmao, this was inspired by a list of old wives tales i found :)

i | ii | iii | iv | v

This story doesn’t follow the plot, so you don’t have to know the story to understand it.

Just past the settlements and huts of Kattegat, a short way over the headland, above the waterfall in the stream that ran to the next bay, there was a yew tree. Salient due to the runes and markings carved into the trunk. The tree’s roots reached and ensnared the flowing stream, knotty and tired after hundreds of years of life. The top branches were so high that some of the younger children of the town believed it to touch the sky, and the older inhabitants, however skeptical, could do nothing to disprove it. Of all places in and around Kattegat, the seats provided by the roots of the tree were your favourite place. When you had first arrived, you had felt so despaired, your God could surely never reach you here, but you had let go of Christianity, and embraced the Viking culture.

You used to believe that God could reach you anywhere, if you needed Him. But when you had needed Him most, He turned His back on you. Eventually, after a month of feeling lost and broken, you found that your prayers had turned to your new home’s Gods. You prayed to Odin for knowledge, to Freyja for help in the unknown. You prayed to Frigg for children, but mostly to Vidar, the Silent God of Revenge. Come to think of it, every God you knew of had entered your prayers in the last month, though only some seemed to hear. You had learned the ways of Kattegat quickly, Hvitserk putting it down to the help of Freyja and Odin. but you showed no signs of being with child, understandable due to the infrequency of… opportunities. And Vidar? You hoped that he had a plan for you, because you wished, more than anything, for revenge.

You watched the water swerve around the toe of your boot, flowing quickly around the sides of the leather and continuing their journey down to the fjord. You leaned your head against the trunk of the yew, looking through the branches, but unable to see the sun through the metres of thick pines. You closed your eyes, and tried to imagine what your father would be doing now.

He would be in a meeting - the war council, probably - planning an invasion or attack. He was always planning, and he passed the habit onto you and your brothers. The eldest, Geoffrey had his kingdom and his people to look after, as the heir. Arthur would run the matters of war; planning and devising wars and battles, strategy and fighting had always been his skill, with his taste for violence. He scared you. Your only younger brother, Theodore, would also be victim to a political marriage, but he was too kind for the ruthlessness of a court life, you had always thought. Your mother would be riding, or gossiping over her embroidery with her ladies in waiting.

The needle pricked your skin, causing a sharp sting to shoot through your finger. You watched the blood form a little bead, pretty and dark against your skin, before slipping down onto your cloth. The crimson darted out, over the shiny, cream fabric before another bead joined its invasion of your cloth, the blood seeking out the threads of your embroidery, staining your stitches too, making them an ugly brown.

“Y/N!” your mother scolded, “Go clean yourself up, you’ve ruined your work, as always.” she pursed her lips, inspecting your uneven stitches, “you used to be good at this, but look, your stitches are too small and tight now, they need to be more relaxed.” she raised an eyebrow at you condescendingly, as if it was the worst thing in the world. “Go now.”

You went and washed your hand and it stopped bleeding, but looking for an excuse to leave your mother’s company, you had ventured down the halls to the Throne Room. you pushed open the huge, oak door and slipped into the vast room. You walked down the stone path to the steps, and walked up. You stood before your father’s throne, towering and strong and massive over your eight-year-old self. You touched the cold metal arm, and the uncomfortable-looking wooden seat. You went to sit down, but your oldest brother’s voice cut through the hall. “Y/N!” he called, “You can’t, Father will be angry.” he looked at you angrily, “Aren’t you meant to be with Mother? Go to her,” he frowned, “Now.”

“Are you okay?” you opened your eyes, and were greeted with the sight of Floki, crouched on the other side of the stream, staring at you.

“Forgive me, Floki, I was thinking.” you said, embarrassed, and stood up abruptly, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he said, still staring at you. He hadn’t even blinked. “What were you thinking about?”

“Well,” you shrugged, gathering your skirts and hopping over the thinnest part of the stream, “more… remembering.”

“You still think of your old life?” he asks, not unkindly, but giggled unsettlingly.

“Sometimes,” you looked at him, and he led you down the path back to your new home, “It’s still new, all of this.”

“But you still pray to your false God.” he did not look at you, but seemed accusatory.

“Rarely,” you said, feeling melancholic, “Christ has no power here, I find myself praying to your Gods.”

He spun round so quickly you almost walked into him, “Our Gods will never be yours,” he bristled, “I have seen Christians betray us too many times before.” You wondered what he referred to. “The last ended up dead, by my hand,” he continued, “So do not make false pretences by our Gods.”

“I promise you, they are not false,” you wanted to explain, but could see it would be futile, so you walked the rest of the way to Kattegat in silence. You heard a bird calling from the North, sounding like a grouse of sorts.

The hunts were your favourite part of the summer. Your father had always insisted on your attendance, despite your mother’s protests, due to your skills in archery. You spent the best part of your summers with your brothers and cousins, learning to track and kill animals (not officially of course - it wasn’t proper.)

It always involved the smaller kills - grouse and pheasants to feed the company until the boar or stag was finally killed. These were your favourite. A few would go out and find dinner. Your well practiced archery provided most meals and food for the noblemen of the company. This particular summer - that of your fifteenth birthday - you had gone hunting for grouse with your father. It was a rare couple of hours that you spent with only the company of your horses. You always remembered those sort of times.

A bird call - a repetitive “cuckoo, cuckoo” sounding every minute or so - had come from the north. You father stopped and put his hand on your shoulder. “Your mother told me once that a bird call from the North is an omen of great tragedy,” he paused as the bird called again, “And she’s never been wrong.”

He started his horse again, riding towards a meal.

You thought of how your cousin had died that very evening - a snake bite in the woods, and hurried on, to where Floki waited for you at the edge-most structures of the town.

“Your husband asked for your presence at dinner,” he said briskly, “I wouldn’t ask why.”

He giggled again.

Loud, drunk laughter filled the hall, fires blazing and cups full. Everyone in the town seemed to be crowded into the room, but you felt removed from it all. Your husband and his brothers were spread about the room, talking and chatting with various people, while you stood in the shadows, studying the lively interactions between the vikings. You watched how they argued and laughed and talked, pure, constant passion, each in their element, doing whatever they pleased. It was such a foreign environment, You couldn’t understand how these people were so free, but how you had been so controlled in your home country.

“Darling,” you turned to face Hvitserk.

“My Prince?” you greeted, with a discreet curtsey.

“Why are you always so polite?” he was slurring slightly, but still coherent.

“I’m sorry, My Prince, in my old home, it was improper to call anyone by any name other than their title.” you explained, flustered.

“Is that what this is?” at the obvious confusion in your face, he smirked, “Your home?”

“This is where I live now, so, by definition, yes.” you thought of the place that you used to call home. You thought of your brothers, Geoffrey and Theo, always kind, and Arthur and your parents, always proper, if proper meant cruel.

“My mother said home is where the heart is.” he swayed slightly, and you held his shoulders so he couldn’t fall, “Is your heart in Kattegat?”

“My heart is long gone,” you whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear, “I don’t know where it’s gone, or how to find it…”

He looked confused, hurt even, so you looked up brightly, “Come on, Prince, you should go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“No!” he laughed, “I’m just a little happy.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, and he leant on you, so you struggled your way to the door, passing pleasantries with Bjorn, explaining taking him to bed, and then found yourselves in the cold air outside.

You dragged Hvitserk to your hut, and sat him down on the bed. He sat there, happily oblivious, as you pulled off his boots and belt. You went to pull his top over his head, but he stopped you. “I have a wife.” he said, you laughed.

“Oh?” you smirked, “What’s she like?”

“She’s beautiful,” you had distracted him enough to start to help him change to his nightclothes, “she’s from a Christian place, but Floki says she’s beginning to believe in our Gods. I don’t think she likes me that much, but I want us to be happy.” he sighed, and you lay him down, pulling the covers over him, before joining him in bed, “I want her to be happy. She’s really clever, you know. She speaks Frankish and English, and Latin and our language. I think she’s sad, but I don’t know how to help her.”

You realised you were crying, but were distracted from your needless embarrassment when you were pulled into his side. You fell asleep slowly, long after the party had ended and everyone in the town seemed to be slumbering. It was the most peaceful you’d felt since you’d left home.

Home.

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