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entitled-fangirl · 3 days ago

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A ring and a cold heart.

Ivar the Boneless x Lagerthasdottir!reader

Summary: Lagertha's gift of a daughter and Ragnar's monster of a son have loved one another for far too long. But things in Kattegat are fragile, and the two now must make choices.

Warnings: mostly spoilers for S4b

A/n: I had to break this into sections. Trust that p2 is gonna get serious real fast.

Masterlist

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The Seer had been right.

Lagertha would never give Ragnar a son, never bearing one after her Bjorn. But when Earl Kalf came into her life, she suddenly found herself with child.

There was little hope that the child would make it. After all, the Seer said so.

But a daughter?

Lagertha's second chance to make up for the death of her sweet Gyda. She held the babe close.

And yet.

No one predicted that she'd one day end up in the arms of Ivar the Boneless.

…

"It seems like a death sentence," she explained to Ivar. "Suicide, even."

"My father wants me to go," Ivar shrugged. "He needs me. I can't say no to that. To the gods."

She sighed. He was beyond stubborn. A true Ragnarsson trait.

She often traveled between Hedeby and Kattegat, staying with Bjorn when here. It was a strange thing to have her around, but Bjorn was the Prince of Kattegat, so others didn't have much room to question.

Plus, the Ragnarssons didn't mind a bit.

She was neither the daughter of Ragnar or Aslaug, but because of her connection to Bjorn, she was a sister to all five of them.

Well, four of them.

Ivar's love had always gone beyond that. As did hers for him.

"What if you go with Bjorn instead?" She tried. Her hand stretched out over his. "To the Mediterranean."

His head lulled. "My brothers have always doubted me. Not my father. He knows what the gods have in store for me."

"And what if all that is store is your death?"

He ran his tongue across his teeth. "Then I will die."

"Marry me before you go," she rushed out, immediately caving in once it was uttered.

"I will not risk making you a widow before you get to truly be a wife."

She felt tears well up in her eyes. She was never the strong one around. Lagertha swore to have a peaceful reign when she became Earl. There was no need to teach her daughter the hardships of being a shield maiden. She had no need to- Lagertha on one side and Bjorn on the other always. Gyda was so soft. So kind. Y/n was no different, only older. She had a chance to grow up kind.

"Don't cry," Ivar huffed. He had no idea what to do with tears. "I'll be back soon enough."

"Swear to it."

He shook his head. "I will not swear if I don't know the will of the gods."

"Then swear you'll marry me if you return."

He couldn't stop another scoff, "woman-"

"-Ivar, please."

"Ivar!" Aslaug's voice interrupted.

The queen stepped into the room, her worry turning to amusement at the sight of the two. She'd always had an odd relationship with Lagertha. How strange was fate to bring their children together?

"Let me speak to my mother," Ivar gently waved.

Y/n nodded and stood, but her wrist was caught by him. "I swear to it," he remarked, looking her firmly in the eye.

…

Lagertha had come to Kattegat with the help of Torvi and Margerette. She hadn't dragged Y/n into the plans.

So when she took Kattegat, Y/n stood at the sidelines in shock, even letting out a shriek when Aslaug fell to the ground dead.

She wanted to feel betrayed by her mother. She should have. But she couldn't find it in herself. Lagertha had sat on the sidelines for too long as her world was taken away.

So she was torn when Ubbe and Sigurd had come to her privately.

"How are you not angry," Ubbe lectured his brother. "Our mother is dead."

"And it is for the best," Sigurd huffed. "Y/n's mother is the only one around here that knows how to truly mother. Look at Bjorn."

"Y/n?" Ubbe questioned.

She sat with her head in her hands, utterly confused by it all. "I won't choose sides."

"We all know it will come to it eventually."

She lifted her head with a heartbroken look. "Then I side with Bjorn. The side he chooses, I follow."

Ubbe nodded. "Very well. So, we wait for Bjorn."

"No," Sigurd shivered. "We wait for Ivar more."

The three exchanged nervous glances.

…

Ivar had returned first. Carried by soldiers of King Ecbert's guard, he was set onto the wooden dock of Kattegat.

She couldn't muster the strength to go welcome him. He wouldn't find out such devastating news from her.

But the next day, Ivar crawled his way into the feast hall with his picks. The entire room quieted as they waited for what the angry son of Aslaug would say.

His eyes slowly trailed from Lagertha, to Torvi, to Astrid, then finally, Y/n.

She stood to the side, a completely guilty expression strung across her face.

No one was immune to noticing the way his eyes glued themselves to her in every room.

It had been like that since her first visit to Kattegat.

It's what finally drove the stake between Sigurd and Ivar. The love Bjorn had for Y/n that he never had for his own daughter, Siggy. And how Sigurd had loved little Siggy.

Y/n's life was always a comparison to one's already dead. All did it but Ivar. Perhaps that is why she was so content to be stuck in his web.

When Largertha refused Ivar's challenge, he was becoming angrier. He knew his easiest chance to kill her was by hand-to-hand combat. Ivar was a cripple, but a damn good one.

"I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed," he growled.

Content with his threat, he looked back to Y/n, pulling a chain from around his neck.

A ring.

She felt something in her stomach twist at the shimmer that crossed her vision. His fingers rubbed over it a few times, egging for a reaction from the girl he promised to marry.

He let the chain drop to his chest with a smirk. Especially when her eyes followed it.

…

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, she rushed out to Ragnar's old cabin. The children had found it when he'd left, and it was their designated space away from the rest of the world. Plus, that was all the boys had to live in now. Ivar would be there.

She rushed in, not caring that the other brothers were gathered around. "Ivar?"

The three others looked at one another with questioning glances before completely packing up and walking out. The brothers weren't about to intervene.

The door closed before Ivar finally spoke. "What do you want?"

"Are you not grateful to be home? To be back? To be the only survivor?" She sat next to him, her voice lowering. "Are you not happy to see me?"

He scoffed, turning away.

"I didn't know, Ivar. I swear to you."

"Seems like we enjoy making swears we don't intend to keep, hm?" He mocked.

Her eyes moved down to the chain again. She sat up straighter and brushed a hand over his chest. Over the ring. "You truly won't marry me now?" She asked softly.

His hand wrapped around her wrist gruffly. But after the initial touch, his grip softened. His jaw was clenched, his anger unchecked. But he couldn't help the flutter that still moved through his chest. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know if I want children with traitor blood."

Her fingers twiddled with the ring. "You know better than I that we don't choose our mothers. The gods do."

"And yet, you'll never help me get my revenge."

"No," she agreed. "I won't."

His eyes wandered over her face. The anger bubbled under his skin. But not at her. And that frustrated him more. "I'll still marry you. But you cannot fault your future husband when he has his revenge."

"But Bjorn will-"

"-That is my offer to you, my love. If you want this ring," he offered, pulling the chain from around his neck and setting it on the wooden table, "Then that is your choice. I have taken my stand. You know what I will do. Will you still marry me?"

She stared down at the jewelry. She'd longed for this for years now. Being his wife.

This could make or break everything.

"I… I don't know," she admitted back to him.

"You don't know?"

"I should wait. For Bjorn to come back. And Hvitserk."

He set a heavy hand on her thigh. Not menacing, but not softly either. "Will you ever choose things for yourself? Or will you wait on Bjorn hand and foot as he decides your fate?"

"Ivar-"

"-No. I do not mind if you must think on it more. But do not do what Bjorn says purely because you think it is right. He makes mistakes." His head tipped down and his gaze turned menacing. "You will choose."

She nodded. "I need time."

"Good," his voice lightened. He even managed a smile. His body leaned forward like he was thinking of kissing her, but he paused and gave a quick nod of his head in acceptance. Then he looked at the ring and her one last time before pulling himself down to the floor and leaving.

She exhaled a long breath, taking the chain and placing it around her neck, tucking it away.

…

Another feast, another problem.

Y/n wasn't far off from Torvi and Astrid, hearing them speak about something being wrong as the large doors closed.

"Like what?" Astrid asked.

"I don't know, but something."

Sigurd let out a small grunt as someone grabbed him from behind and held him at knifepoint. That began a whole group coming forward and grabbing at Lagertha's shield maidens and earls alike, restraining them all.

A hand grabbed Y/n's wrist, holding it out.

Ivar's ring was wrapped around her finger. She'd chosen.

Whoever it was dropped her hand entirely and stepped away from her, meaning she stood amidst the chaos, entirely left alone.

Everyone began to part, and Y/n tucked away towards Sigurd. Her hand grabbed the wrist of the man holding him in an attempt to pry him away.

Ivar and Ubbe approached Lagertha's throne. Lagertha was rather unfazed by it, standing and grabbing her sword slowly. She was a fighter to the end.

Ivar was impressed by her willingness to face him. He sat up with his spike as Ubbe circled around the queen.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Waiting for someone to make the first move.

The door burst open, and in walks Bjorn.

"If you kill her, my brothers," he sauntered, "you'll have to kill me too."

Y/n and Sigurd both let out relieved sighs. The argument was far from over. But with Bjorn there, the fight would not be one-sided.

"Maybe we should," Ivar warned.

"Shut up," Ubbe immediately countered. He respected Bjorn immensely, and starting conflict with Ironside was like starting to dig your own grave. "She killed our mother," he mentioned. Bjorn would see where he was coming from. Surely.

"I know. You want revenge. So would I." He took in a deep breath. "But more importantly, we have to avenge our father. That is why I came back. And that," he tapped his axe against Ivar's cheek, "is what we are going to do."

Lagertha smiled and threw down her sword, prompting the rest to follow.

As Sigurd was let go, Y/n immediately tended to him, rubbing a soft hand over his neck at the irritated skin.

Frustrated, Ubbe and Ivar left.

She was torn between following them and staying with Bjorn and Lagertha.

But after speaking to the new queen, Bjorn spotted her. That made the decision. She approached him, smoothing out her dress as she weaved through everyone.

Within a few minutes, the feast began again like nothing had happened, but Bjorn was still far from jovial.

She wasn't even sure the viking knew what that word meant.

"So, I travel all the way past Frankia, through pirated seas and storms, I keelhaul my own uncle, and still," he grumbles, "things turn to ruin here the moment I turn away."

"You hated Aslaug," Y/n points out. "You always have."

"Since I watched her sleep with my father the first time they met, yes. Yes, I have," he complained. "But our mother has caused a rift that I'd rather not have now. I have revenge of my own to get and I need my brothers in order to do it."

"You have your brothers," she pointed out. "Of Ragnar's wrongful death, you all agree."

"I will not play guard to mother's kingdom more than I did before. I want to sail. To travel."

"Then don't."

He let out a long sigh. "This is why I love the sea. It is predictable. People are not. Like you," he pointed his cup towards her.

"Like me?"

"You wear a ring and you say nothing about it. You have not asked for my allowance. Let me see it." He held out a large hand, to which she slipped the band off and gave to him.

Bjorn flipped it in his palm a few times before a daunting thought came over him. "Where did you get this?" He questioned roughly. "Who is proposing with this ring? I'll kill him."

"Brother," she scoffed. "Why the sudden rage?"

"Does mother know?" He asked in complete ignorance of her previous question.

"No. No, and she won't. Not right now."

"I'll ask one more time," Bjorn growled, leaning across the table. "Who is proposing with Mother's ring?"

Oh.

Where had Ivar gotten Lagertha's ring?

"Our mother wore this ring until the day she and I left Ragnar. Her wedding band. Now answer the question, sister."

"Give it back, Bjorn." She tried to muster up confidence. It didn't quite work.

Bjorn's lips quirked up at that, all too amused. "I don't think I will. I think I'll hold onto this until you decide to ask for my blessing."

"That is cruel!"

He shrugged. "I don't care. Either you tell me now or he can come get it from me himself."

She let out a tantrum-like grunt and stood up, her chair scrapping against the wood. She weaved through the crowd and finally out into the cold air.

…

The journey was a little harder in the dark than she'd thought. The air was cold and frigid, and she was far from dressed for it. The wind chilled her immensely, traveling down her bones. Her chattering teeth exhaled a visible breath when she saw the cabin.

"Ivar? Ivar!" She called out as she neared.

Hvitserk was the one to come out with a concerned brow raised.

Y/n felt guilty, still not welcoming Hvitserk after the raid. She all but collapsed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and finally relaxing.

Hvitserk froze for a moment. Touch was never his thing. "You miss me?"

"Like hell," she mumbled against his chest.

He chuckled and circled his arm around her. "Already using Christian phrases, hm? Don't let Ivar hear you. Congratulations, by the way."

It was her turn to freeze, her head tilting up until she looked straight up at him. "What?"

"You're to be married, are you not? He said so." At her hum of agreement, he rubbed a hand down her back. "You're freezing, sister. You'll catch a chill if I don't get you inside."

He guided her in. The warm air from their small fire immediately caused a shiver down her body. Hvitserk frowned and held a hand to her forehead. "Gods. I'd think you were half dead like this."

That caught Ivar's attention. His head snapped up, his entire body relaxing at the sight of her. "Did you travel this far like that?" He questioned, his hand motioning to her lack of heavy clothing.

She stepped to the fire, sitting down next to Ubbe. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to transfer some of his heat. After all, he'd been scheming over the flames for a while now. He could afford to give some of the warmth up.

Ubbe gave a small glare to Ivar, effectively telling him to drop the question. "Let me see this ring Ivar said so much about."

Her face dropped. "Oh. I… it's…"

One by one, the siblings realized that something was not quite right and Ubbe should have minded his own business. In all honesty, it was a fair ask. One that usually is fine to ask to an engaged woman.

Ivar let out a long, loud breath. He seethed from his place at the table. "Where is it? I was told it was on your finger only hours ago."

How to explain that Bjorn had taken it without Ivar immediately growing angry? After all, Ironside didn't know that it was Ivar's. It wasn't personal at all. But that's not how Ivar saw things.

"Where is it?" He asked in a firmer tone. His head tilted. His tongue ran over the back of his teeth. "Did someone take it from you?"

"Don't be angry-"

"-No I AM ANGRY!" He yelled. "Tell me yes or no. Have you gone back on your word?"

"Ivar," Ubbe scorned. "Let the woman speak." He pulled a piece of hair from her face. "Go on."

She sniffled and moved closer to the fire to warm her hands. She stared at her ring finger longingly. "I do, Ivar. I want to marry you."

Hvitserk smirked widely, peering at his brother in a tease. His brother. In love.

Ivar exhaled in a hidden form of relief. "Alright."

"I did not tell Bjorn about it yet. I wanted to wait…"

"-But?" Ubbe interrupted.

"But Bjorn saw it before I could." She frowned. "Where did you get Lagertha's ring?"

Every head shot to Ivar in shock.

He shrugged. "Father gave it to me. On our way to Wessex. I told him that we would marry when I returned and he gave me the ring. Chain and all. He said he'd worn it around his neck since the day your mother left him."

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lady06reaper · 10 months ago

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Requests you ask for 👀.

I shall give. Viking x Reader

Where said character(s) react to their wife having to defend their children from a bear/forest creature. And easily defeating it. Going from complete deadly killer to momma bear who's hugging her sweet children close.

Love a feral momma bear. - marshmellow

So I really only see this prompt as Bjorn and Ubbe with the kid part BUT since Ivar has a special place in my heart I'll write him with kids as well

HOW THE RAGNARSONS REACT TO YOU FENDING OFF A CRITTER TO SAVE YOUR CHILDREN

THIS IS THE LOOK YOU GET YOU AND YOU CHILDREN ARE STRUGGLING TO HAUL A BEAR CARCASS TO KATTEGAT

LIKE WHAT!?

Bjorn was definitely worried, like why was his beloved and their children carrying a dead bear? Are yall alright?!

"Wife! Are you okay? What happened?" Bjorn rose from his seat on the porch and ran over to you and your kin.

You huffed and threw the bear's head and front arms down to the ground, your kids followed suit and laid down on the ground with the dead bear.

"What happened, Bjorn, is that we were hunting and this foul, loathsome, lowlife, bear thought he could harm us. Jokes on it, we're having a feast tonight!" You roared so all of Kattegat could hear you, everyone around cheered in delight.

"That is quite a feat Y/N," Bjorn looked down at the bear and got a thought. He took your hand and led you up on the porch of the great hall, your children followed their dad up there with you. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my wife once more as Y/N Bear-Killer!" Bjorn raised your hand up with his as everyone celebrated and congratulated you. Your kids hugged your legs as their congratulations to you, you bent down and embraced them. Everyone, including the woodland critters, knew now not to mess with you, especially your children.

Out of the corner of Ubbe's eye he saw you and your children hauling a moose in a pull wagon... or at least trying to

First of all, you didn't have the pull wagon when you left so when did you come back and grab it?

Second, WHERE THE HELL DID THE DEAD MOOSE COME FROM?!

He had to do a double take on it to make sure it wasn't an illusion by the Trickster God Loki

"Love! What happened? Are you and the children alright?" You sighed and dropped the handles to the cart, the moose slid off of it to the ground. Your children were small enough to sit in the moose's antler, so sit they did, tired from helping their momma.

"I'm fine, nothing but a long soak with herbs won't fix. But this here moose is obviously not alright for it is dead, a punishment for attempting to hurt us," You stretched out your sore and tired muscles, that soak was really starting to sound good.

"Oh my brave, yet crazy wife, I'm glad you are alright, but when did you get the pull cart?"

"Oh that? We borrowed it from a farmer nearby, by the time we would've came here and back to the carcass it would've been already claimed by the wolves," you shrugged as if it was self-explanatory. You beckoned your kids over to you by kneeling and opening your arms, they ran towards you and as soon as they reached you, you picked them up in your arms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your very strong children and I would like a bath and a nap. Go ahead and clean the moose, we feast tonight."

You turned on your heel and walked towards the long house, leaving a shocked Ubbe staring at your back. Did all of that really just happen?

I feel like Ivar would get horny if he knew you took down a huge ass wolf (which explains the second pic)

like the first one is "Wow, my wife took down that wolf, who's almost as big as Fenrir? Damn that's hot"

The wolf slung across your shoulders was heavy, but you had no other means of carrying it, and the pelt would make a nice cloak or blanket for your kin. You walked through Kattegat with your child in tow, they were concerned for your wellbeing, but you assured them you were fine. Ivar watched as you hauled the wolf up to the long house, not bothering to get up knowing you were as strong as Freyja. You dropped the wolf at his feet and fell into his open arms and lap.

" It seems you had an eventful hunt, love," Ivar wrapped his arms around your waist, but before he could get comfortable your child crawled up into your lap, it's a good thing Ivar can't feel your combined weight, only the presence.

"Yes, indeed we did, what do you think little one? Should we use the pelt as a blanket, or turn it into a cloak?" The child pondered before saying their answer. "Blanket it is then," you kissed their forehead and let them go. "Now run along and go get Uncle Bjorn, he'll help you turn the wolf into a nice blanket." You smiled as they slid down Ivars legs and ran to get Bjorn.

"Are you alright my love?" Ivar looked over your upper body as he rubbed circles into your lower back.

"Yes, husband, nothing like a good back massage won't fix," you leaned into his touch, being comforted by Ivar was definitely something you needed right now. Ivar gave you a mischievous look through his eyelashes.

"Instead of a massage," he started. "How about I break your back?"

#vikings x reader #vikings #bjorn ironside x reader #bjorn x reader #bjorn #bjorn ironside #ubbe x reader #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless

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axelsagewrites · 8 months ago

Text

Where Am I?*Part Five

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 1531

Warnings: reader learning archer, sassy bjorn, emotionally complex ivar, threats, time travel, drinking, hangover

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three Part four

Masterlist Here

Last night had been the first truly relaxing nights of your stay so far. You drank, sang guitar round a campfire on the beach, learned some Viking songs and tall tales, and now woke up with a splitting hangover. “Time to get up,” Ubbe said as he opened the door.

You just grumbled in response, pulling the covers further over your head. You heard sighing then footsteps then suddenly felt the shivering cold. Ubbe stood grinning over your, “Revenge,” he grinned down at you, offering you a hand.

“Die,” you grumbled, burying your head into the pillow.

You could hear laughter from the door, “Finally becoming one of us,” Ivar, you think, laughed.

“Or worse. she’s becoming like you,” Sigurd’s teasing led to more cursing, some thuds, and Ubbe running to split up some kind of fight as you sat up in bed. This was going to be a long day.

“Why do I need to learn this?” you whined as Hvitserk helped you load an arrow onto your bow.

“Well if you like to eat you need to learn how to shoot,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd leant against a tree to watch your struggles. Ivar was sat just a few feet away on a cut down tree.

all boys were noticeably behind you as they watched the arrow sink into a tree three feet from your target. Hvitserk helped you load another arrow before making the mistake of joking to a very hungover, very fed-up woman. “How are you getting worse?”

You huffed, spinning around still holding the bow making all the boys duck. Even Hvitserk jumped away, “Watch where you point that thing!” Sigurd said, hands covering his face.

“Scared of some little girl?” Ivar laughed. Though it stopped when you turned the arrow at him. He held his hands in the air in mock defence, “I thought we were friends,”

“Don’t test me,” you grumbled, turning back to the target. “This was so much easier on the Wii,”

“What’s a Wii?” you sighed as the four asked in unison. Instead of answering you ignored them, rolling your shoulders back before taking aim again. Breathe in, breathe out, and release.

Thud. The arrow hit the edge of the target. “You’ll get there- “Ubbe tried to speak but you cut him off.

“I did it!” you almost screamed, jumping up and down. “Ha take that!” you said, thrusting the bow up like you’d won the Olympics making the boys laugh.

“Please if we were hunting not only would you scare away the deer, but you only would’ve shot his ankle,” Hvitserk said, as he pulled out another arrow for you to use.

You rolled your eyes as you loaded it yourself this time, all be it with a slight struggle without his wins, “Don’t you guys ever celebrate the small victories?”

“What’s the point of that?” Ubbe asked with all seriousness.

“For motivation? To be happy?” you said, like it was the most obvious thing as you lined up your shot. Breathe in and release. “See!” you said, the arrow now slightly closer to the centre than before, “Positive thinking gets you places,”

“Yeah, like the bottom of a pile of dead bodies,” Ivar chortled.

You turned around with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Would you like to be one of them?”

A small smirk formed on his face as the other boys laughed. You felt Hvitserk place his arm over your shoulder, “Oh you’ll fit in nicely soon enough,”

By the end of archery practise you were now able to hit the target each time. Not the centre but still. Progress was there. Then it was there turn to do their real practising. Watching Ivar hit the bullseye with his axe each time as he glared at Sigurd made you thankful guns weren’t invented here. You almost told them about them but even if they were nice to you, you didn’t need to give them anymore ideas.

By the time you got back to Kattegat the sun was beginning to set and dinner was nearly ready. Bjorn joined you once again. Apparently, this was unusual for the Ironborn however it was Hvitserk who told you this and you quickly learned he was a massive gossip. Not that you were complaining. However thankfully for you Ragnar and Aslaug were not joining you. Its not that you didn’t like them, but Ragnar asked you a million question while she had a way of staring through your sole.

Somehow you ended up between him and Ivar and any time someone told a story your legend you didn’t understand he was quick to whisper in your ear. “What lies are you telling her brother?” Bjorn, who was sat across from you, asked as he was telling a story of his latest travels.

“That you truly are as tough as you look,” Hvitserk smirked. Despite not having Ivar’s rage or Sigurd’s instigation, Hvitserk was clearly able to hold his own.

Bjorn hummed disapprovingly before turning back to you, “How unfortunate you travel all this way to be stuck with these fools,” he said, glancing round the table, “Not a real man among them,”

“Maybe,” you said, deciding if you were going to be surrounded by argumentative Vikings you may as well try fit in, “Or maybe we have a different definition of a real man,”

“And what would your definition be?” he asked, putting his elbows on the table, and leaning in closer.

His eyes were locked on yours, so you decided instead to let yours look him up and down before sitting back, “Why? Do you need some lessons on how to be one?”

The younger Ragnorsson’s sniggered while Ubbe watched the whole scene carefully. Your eyes stayed locked on Bjorn’s until he sat back in his chair with a smile, “There’s hope for you yet, little one,” he said before dropping the smile, “Though I don’t recommend questioning me again,” The sight made your blood run cold but you did your best to smile, bringing a cup of wine to your lips as the meal soon continued.

Somehow you managed to escape from the brothers while they were distracted by finding a new crate of ale. While drinking wasn’t exactly restricted in university, they drank like it was a sport and there was no way you could keep up.

Even though you now wore a Vikings dress and apron there was some things from home you couldn’t let go of; modern underwear and sleeping in a comfy t-shirt. It was the one you had arrived in though admittedly you were going to have to wash it and your other clothes soon. The issue was that meant asking one of the brothers where or how to wash it and you had no desire for them to see these items. Well not yet at least.

When you got back to your room you slipped out the starched dress and into the soft cotton shirt and got under your furs about to sleep. Before you could however the door opened. “Ivar?”

“My brothers bore me,” he sighed as he crawled over to your bed. You pulled the furs slightly closer, realising you only had the t-shirt on as your cheeks flushed. Ivar took no notice as he pulled himself up to sit beside you, “You were the only interesting one there,”

“A little flattery goes a long way,” you said but he quirked his head at that, “It’s an expression where I’m from,”

“Is flattery not a good thing?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Depends. My professor told me flattery and insults raise the same question; what do you want? Though I think he stole that from someone,”

“Well, all I want is your company,” he answered and at rare moments when you were alone Ivar didn’t look blood thirsty and terrifying. In fact, he seemed kind of gentle as he let a small smile escape. You couldn’t help letting out a light laugh, “Though I don’t understand how someone can steal words,”

Again, you shrugged, “I guess our people just value different things,” you said as a silence washed over you both.

After a few moments Ivar broke it, “I don’t think so. I think, deep down, all we all want is to be safe,” he said it quietly, as if he was worried someone may eaves drop.

It broke your heart a little though, “I suppose but I would’ve said happy,”

“Happy is a dangerous emotion,” he said, staring off into the distance, “everyone craves it, so they chase it, but they assume there is only so much of it to go around so they steal it. I do not need to be happy. Just content,”

You weren’t sure why you grabbed his hand, but you gave it a soft squeeze. His cheeks tinged pink, but you pretended not to notice, “I think content is a different kind of happy. Maybe if we were all so content with it, we could all be happy,”

“Maybe,”

“It’s a dangerous word,” you said.

Ivar snorted, “How can a word be dangerous?”

“How can happiness be?” you shot back with a small smile.

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kaivenom · 8 months ago

Text

How the Vikings men would bath with you

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

It takes a lot to him to trust you enough to see him naked.

Due to his body, he is very self concious so previously to entering the bath, you need to be sure he will let you in.

It is sure to say this is one of his most vulnerable moments, always expecting you to run away or something.

You position yourself behind him and tun your fingers up and down his back.

Giving him massages and hugging him, trying to reasure him that you are not afraid.

Once he gets used to this time of intimacy, having baths together starts to be a more usual activity.

Ubbe Ragnarson

He got to you side and started rubbing your legs and chest with slow almost sensual motions.

Never breaking eye contact from you, even when is hand dissapeared underwater.

With a nod you invited him to join you and what started with his attempt to seduce you is now a relaxing tradition.

Your back against his chest, connecting fingers and talking about nothing and everything.

Feeling his heartbeat against you is beautiful and calming, he also feels safe while doing this with you.

Dark ambience, small candles iluminating the room.

Hvitserk Ragnarson

The first time he entered by accident and you give him the option to join, obviously he didn't refuse.

Then started to be more often, he judt likes to have you in front of him.

After his travels to Algeciras and the Mediterranean sea, he discovers the roman baths, aromatized soaps, etc.

He is like a child, sometimes splashing you while laughing.

But dont get It wrong, he always treats you like a princess.

Now, when you raid together, he always wanders around the town, trying to know if there is some roman baths or saunas.

Sigurd Ragnarson

I somehow think that he doesn't like to bath so the only way for him to get in water is with you.

He tries to stay as much as posible in the water while you wash his blonde hair but he just makes sarcastic comments, makes weird faces and that.

He tries to splash you like a revenge and you end up having a water bottle.

The only place he likes to be in water is on the lake, but ussually is to cold to be there so... big no.

Not even mentioning that in some particular ocasion he threw you there, obviously you pushed him after.

It's the most fun and risky one to bath with.

Bjorn Ironside

He obviously starts bathing a couple of minutes before you do, that's why you always tell him when you are going to do It.

He has this hope that bathing and spending this time with you will make you reward him.

Bathing in such a small place with such a man, you feel a little overwhelmed.

He doesn't tent to do anything but always wants you to rub and wash him, he finds it relaxing

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multific · 1 year ago

Text

The Mistress of The Devil

Ivar the Boneless x DarkWitch!Reader

Warnings: mention of witchcraft, demons

Summary: Dark clothes, dark aura and powers. Where you came from, or who you were, not even Aslaug was sure anymore. All she could recall is that she promised to wed her son to you. And now, the Devil had a wife.

"I said you will marry her and this is the last I want to hear anything from you Ivar!" hearing his mother yell, Ivar knew, he lost this battle.

He was to marry this unknown woman.

He hated the idea.

Ivar will just simply kill her, he needs no wife.

He said, but the next day, just when Kattegat woke up, there stood a woman.

She was dressed in a black, her smile was kind, too kind for someone dressed so dark.

"My name is Y/N. I came for my wedding."

Everyone was confused. Aslaug ended up showing you around and introducing you to your future husband.

Ivar Ragnarson.

A strong man with an even stronger will. His legs were the proof of it. He never backed down, not letting anything get in his way.

You liked it.

The determination. The fire.

It is just what you need in a husband.

You smiled at Ivar as you two were wed.

Now, you had him.

---

Everyone knew the name Ivar the Boneless. Everyone feared Ivar the Boneless.

The fearless Viking known for his intelligence and insanity.

But then, a whisper came with the wind.

A whisper of his wife.

A woman, explained as the Darkness herself.

The Christians referred to her as Satan's Wife.

Would that make Ivar Satan in their logic?

Everyone wondered how could Ivar be so fearless, how could he know so much.

The answer was simple, his wife.

You, with your powers inherited throughout the generations of women in your family.

You, the dark sorceress who fell madly in love with a not so simple Viking.

It was always you.

People who survived Ivar's wrath often said it was as if he had a dark figure standing behind him. The figure was tall, and had long arms and eyes that glow red like blood.

Overexadiration, but not far from the truth.

One of your many beings.

Sentenced to follow and help Ivar in his fights, the being didn't have a name. It was simply black and tall.

Ivar swore sometimes he could see it from the corner of his eye.

It made him recall a time when he first saw one of your... pets.

It was very late, the fire has nearly gone out, both of you sleeping under furs.

Ivar woke, his mind fuzzy with sleep when he saw someone or rather something in the corner.

But as his eyes focused and he woke up with a start, the thing vanished.

"What is it, Ivar?" you asked, being awakened from your slumber.

"I saw someone." you looked at the corner he kept on staring at.

"I will deal with it, sleep now." you smiled at him as you stood up and walked towards the entrance of the house.

Ivar followed you, crawling as you opened the door, his words failed him.

You stood a couple steps from the door, looking towards the darkness. You turned to your left, then to your right. As if you saw someone you spoke up, just as Ivar found his way towards the doorway.

"Let him sleep! You are scaring him, I told you before." you said, to him it looked like you have gone mad, then you turned to him. "I told you before, they wouldn't hurt you, don't be afraid of them, Ivar." you said and Ivar swore he saw something move to his right. He quickly looked and saw a pair or long fingers on the wall, the... thing right around the corner, Ivar felt frozen.

Then he saw it.

The face of a being, not human. Illuminated by the light coming from the window, Ivar's pair of blues met with black eyes and skin so pale, Ivar never seen anything like it before.

"It won't hurt you." you said with a lower voice as you watched Ivar. He then looked back at you, you saw his confusion. "They won't hurt you." you said once more and this time, Ivar believed you.

But never after that night did he ever want to see any of your creatures.

---

You were a rather light sleeper.

There were occasions when nothing could wake you, and other times where a simple movement from Ivar made you wake up. This was one of those nights.

You were awakened by his simple movement, you couldn't fall back to sleep and so, you decided to just sit by the fire and watch it and Ivar.

Ivar woke up hours later, it was still dark outside and he looked at you.

"Are your demons haunting you again, Wife?"

"Quite the opposite, My King. I'm haunting them." you smirked and Ivar moved to the edge of the bed.

You stood up and stood still a couple steps away from him.

"What would you do for me, Ivar?" you asked and he looked into your eyes.

"I would burn the entire world. Kill every last person just to get to you. Kill every last demon just to have you with me again." you moved onto the floor, crawling over, you placed your hands on his knees.

"Would you run for me?" you watched his eyes switch.

You offended him.

You corrected yourself.

"If I give you the ability, would you run to me, run to save me, run to kill them? Would you?"

"C-Can you?" he asked, eyes filling with hope.

And you nodded.

A simple nod.

"Will it hurt?" came his next question.

Another nod.

"It would be worth it. Standing beside you, as the proud husband I am. Run to you? Without a question." he ran his fingers through your hair.

You sealed your deal with a kiss.

---

Everyone in Kattegat woke up with a feeling of dread.

Then they all saw.

Ivar walking around like nothing happened, as if his legs always worked.

The Devil could walk.

And it terrified everyone.

They only could imagine what his enemies would think, given how his own people were terrified of him.

His brother always knew Ivar's wife wasn't a regular woman. They had this feeling about her, as they said, there was a darkness around her.

And upon seeing their brother walk, there was no more doubt about it.

She made him walk.

So, was is actually that Ivar married the Devil? Would it actually be the Devil and her husband?

One thing was for sure, now whenever someone looked into the dark of your eyes, they could hear people crying and begging.

And just like with many names in history, yours and Ivar's were eventually melted into one.

It was no longer Ivar the Boneless and his wife.

Soon, all people remembered was the fierce Viking, Ivar the Boneless.

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 2 months ago

Text

Behave- Ivar x Reader

Summary: Reader makes sure her husband Ivar is on his best behaviour at a dinner with his brothers

Word count: 486

*want to be tagged in my next Ivar fic? Click here*

Confusion swept across Ivars face as you asked him to sit beside on the couch.

“My love, while I want nothing more than to sit with you, I have to see my brothers for dinner,” he argued as he tried to get through the door.

“Ivar, sit,” you calmly but sternly demanded.

Ivar could never argue with you when you ordered him like that. Though he may be a fierce warrior on the battlefield, he was no match for you off of the battlefield.

Complying without even a single huff or sigh, Ivar quickly sits beside you on the couch.

Smiling sweetly at each other, your hand gently rests upon his cheek. Ivars eyes begin to close and he hums at your soft and sweet touch.

His hum however turns into a gasp of surprise, which becomes a light moan as he opens his eyes wide, to see you straddling his lap.

Before he can question your motives, your lips are already pressed against his. Moaning into your divine kiss, his hands gently grasp at your hips.

Ivar has no time to complain about you breaking the kiss, as you begin to nip along his neck.

“Ivar, listen to me,” you whisper enchantingly into his ear, like you’re casting a powerful spell, “you will behave at this dinner with your brothers. You will be the good boy I know you can be.”

Grasping his throat, you force his head back against the back of the couch, to look deep into your eyes. You take a while to play with Ivars braided hair, driving him wild and making him desperate as you bite your lip.

Suddenly your eyes change, from his powerful and fearsome wife, to his sweet soft darling. You knew playing both the enchantress and the docile flower would completely shut down his defences, and he’d have no choice but to do exactly what you say.

“Be a good boy for me? Please? You’re so smart, why would you let what they say get to you, darling husband of mine?” You ask him softly, both stroking his ego and his strong muscles.

“I-I will behave,” he softly complied, looking at you with reverence and amazement.

Your sweet pout quickly turned into a wicked smirk as you quickly but passionately kiss his lips.

“I know you will, sweet boy. Now go have fun and don’t come home too late,” you order.

Lightly patting his chest, you quickly move from his lap to sit beside him once again. It takes a moment for Ivar to come back to himself, your powerful hold having him in a daze.

Once his mind comes back to reality, he gives you a soft smile and a gentle kiss, before making his way to the door.

“I’ll be home before you are in bed. I love you, my enchantress,” he smiled at you from the door.

“And I love you, my king.”

#ivar #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar the boneless #Ivar x reader #Ivar imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson x reader #Ivar Ragnarsson imagine #Ivar the boneless x reader #Ivar the boneless imagine #Vikings #Vikings imagine

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milkb0nny · 29 days ago

Note

I would like to request sth 🥰

Could you write one with reader being daughter of a great king and shes married with Ivar and she hears Margrethe talking bad about him and he hears, gets really sad and reader sees just red and gets really mad and Ivar just loves how she is just as tyrannt as him?

I would totally understand if you dont want to write it.

Anyways I hope you have a great day ❤️

Fury Amongst Us

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader

Summary: Despite the forced marriage between you and Ivar, the two of you developed some sort of adoration. Still, you didn’t exchange much words to one another, until that one evening; you could not stand Magrethe talking bad about your husband.

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you will like it! I made Reader a little more tame than Ivar, but still fierce and respectable. I had quite some fun writing this. Have a lovely day anon. <3

Content: established relationship, swearing, arguing, fluff, blood

Word count: ~1400

You prepared yourself for the festivities in the grand hall as your people prepared to celebrate the successes of the recent raids and the goods they had brought back. Each time the warriors returned, your father made the journey to Kattegat for the grand celebrations. He always claimed he came to see you, his daughter, but you knew he was drawn to the infamous vibrance of the town. You loved your father, and you couldn’t complain about seeing him. You had grown accustomed to these occasions, yet tonight was more exciting than the festivities before: it was your first evening in the grand hall as a married woman.

Your marriage to Ivar Ragnarsson, the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, was not born of love but of strategy - a political alliance to unite your families and strengthen ties between your folk. It was an act of power, not passion. Therefore you met with prejudice and discomfort, which vanished quickly. You did not begrudge your fate. The man could have been an ugly, aging warrior; instead, you were married to a man who was young, complex, and intriguing.

You had heard of Ivar's reputation long before meeting him. His anger and cruelty were legendary, and those who spoke of him did so with both fear and awe. Yet in the months since your marriage, you had glimpsed a different side to him, one the world rarely saw. His legs, which many deemed a weakness, were not so to him. His ambitious will and sharp mind more than compensated for any physical limitation. You found this quality admirable, even endearing. But with his strength came a quiet torment. You have experienced his rage, however, it was never turned on you but others. As if he tried to spare you from his ugliness, which you appreciated. He cared somewhat about his wife.

Over the past week, you had tried to overcome the distance between you and Ivar, seeking moments of closeness and tenderness. Yet he remained distant, avoiding your affections not with cruelty but with a quiet humility that suggested he believed himself unworthy of your love. He declined intimate acts, and your efforts to make up for the lack of romance between you. Who would have thought that Ivar the Boneless, the man feared across lands, carried such a burden of self-doubt? You respected his boundaries, offering him space but showing your care in subtle ways. And with each glance, each moment shared in silence, you felt a growing pull in your heart. You watched him, often questioning what thoughts stirred his mind. Was this marriage beginning to blossom into something real? If not, why did you feel those emotions then? You weren’t sure, but you found yourself eager to explore.

As Magrethe and another woman helped you dress, their usual gossip floated around the room. You paid little attention to it, your mind drifting to thoughts of Ivar. Magrethe’s sharp tongue often spilled tea, and though her stories rarely concerned you, today her words felt especially bitter. She rambled on about a couple who had argued loudly the night before, her tone dismissive and mocking.

The room quieted when Ivar appeared in the doorway. His presence was commanding, his piercing blue eyes immediately finding yours. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, but he quickly averted his gaze, moving into the next room where his brothers waited. The door remained slightly open, and you caught him glancing back, as though reluctant to leave the sight of you.

Magrethe noticed your melancholic expression and, despite the envy that often laced her words, she tried to comfort you. "Ivar is not only ruthless in battle but also with the people closest to him," she said, her voice deceptively soft. "You should be careful, my lady. His anger might one day find you, too."

Her words, though spoken with genuine concern, carried a hidden mischief. You replied calmly, your tone steady.

"I appreciate your concern, Magrethe, but I am his wife, not the cause of his fury."

Your chest tightened at her cruel words, but you remained composed. Through the mirror, you saw Ivar just beyond the door, his head bowed as if trying to shrink away. His brothers’ laughter did little to drown out the sting of Magrethe’s remarks, and you knew he had heard every word. His eyes reflected the self hatred and disgust he owned for himself, and that alone hurt you.

"But haven’t you noticed?" she pressed, her voice growing sharper. "He cares only for power and pays no mind to the cost of his ambitions. He would hurt anyone to achieve importance. Yet, no matter how much power he has, he will always remain a cripple - a man who must rely on others to carry him."

With curiosity, you encouraged her to continue. "Go on," you said calmly.

Though the fire in your heart burned hotter with every passing moment. You set a trap for her to step in, and so she did.

Magrethe leaned closer, her tone dripping with mean words. "I pity you, my lady, being tied to such a man. The worst of it is that Ivar doesn’t love anyone… not even himself. He pushes everyone away. That’s why he’ll always be alone, no matter how powerful he becomes."

Her words were the final spark. Fury surged within you, and you turned to face her, your gaze cold and unyielding. Through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Ivar, his shoulders stiff, bracing for what he assumed would be your agreement with Magrethe’s cruel assessment. He clearly expected you to complain and cry. But what came next was far from what anyone expected.

Without warning, your hand struck Magrethe’s cheek with a sharp small object, the force sending her stumbling backward and falling to ground. Blood welled from a thin cut where your hidden blade had grazed her pure skin. Her shocked whimpers filled the room as she clutched her face.

Ubbe burst into the room, his expression one of alarm. Before he could speak, you turned to him, your voice cutting through the tension like steel.

"You allow such insolence to fester in your household, Ubbe? This woman insults your brother and dares to do so in my presence."

Magrethe sobbed before you, her arrogance shattered. Kneeling, you grasped her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze.

"You speak of my husband as though you understand him, but you know nothing of his strength, his pain. You, Magrethe, are nothing more than a jealous, envious snake, slithering beneath the feet of those greater than you." You continued to torment her, not letting that behavior go. „How can you speak of self esteem when you’re reeking of jealousy? How can you act as if you’re above him?“

Your voice softened, but each word carried the weight of your fury.

"If Ivar is broken, then I will carry him. If the world taunts him, I will silence it. And if you or anyone else dares to challenge him, I will make the gods themselves regret it. The world will burn in flames, and I will cause it if someone dares to question us, our marriage or our love."

As you stepped into the hall, the cool air brushing against your flushed skin, you found Ivar waiting. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of awe and longing. For the first time, he reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm.

The room was silent, only for Magrethe’s soft sobs. Even Ubbe was speechless, his gaze flicking between you and the trembling woman at your feet. You rose, your movements deliberate and commanding, and turned to Ubbe.

"Teach her to learn her place. If I hear another insult, I will not stop at a scar."

"You didn’t have to do that," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

For the first time, Ivar allowed himself to believe that perhaps he was worthy of such love. The anger he owned, he burdened himself with, now was shared with you.

Meeting his gaze, you replied with quiet intensity.

"I would do it again, Ivar. You are my husband, and I will not let anyone, not even you, think you are less than what you are."

#vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #vikings x reader #vikings

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eu-nicola · 2 months ago

Text

first love

summary: you always hated Ragnar until you realized that that hatred was not hatred but love

warnings: age-gap, infidelity, pregnancy

word counter: 9363

author's note: english is not my first language, inspired by something old that I also wrote

You had known Ragnar Lothbrok for as long as you could remember, and you had always known that his place in your life was not that of a stranger. He had been a part of your world even before you came into it.

Your father always spoke of Ragnar as if he were a son. When you were younger, you sat on your father’s knee as he told stories of Ragnar’s bravery and cunning, of how, as a mere boy, he had shown intelligence that few men possessed. You listened, but those words never filled you with pride. It wasn’t admiration you felt for him. It was jealousy. Jealousy of how your parents looked at him, jealousy of how your father laughed with him, a truer sound than the one you managed to coax out of him.

Ragnar wasn’t just bigger than you in age; he was bigger in every other way. He had always been that way. In your family’s eyes, he was more than an older brother. He was the perfect son they had never had before you.

You clearly remember the first time you realized how deep your connection to your father was. You were about six years old, running through the field near your house, chasing butterflies as your bare feet sank into the damp grass. When you came home, sweaty and leafy, you saw him there at the table next to your father. Your heads leaned forward, talking quietly as if they shared a secret that would never include you. Your small hands balled into fists, and you stood in the doorway, feeling like a stranger in your own home.

“What are you doing standing there?” he had asked you, with an easy smile that lit up everyone’s eyes but your own.

“I don’t like the way you talk to my father,” you told him with childlike sincerity that knew no filters.

He laughed, a sound he had always hated because it was loud, as if the entire world could hear how much he enjoyed life. "And why not, little one? Is it yours and not mine?"

Your father laughed too, but you didn't. You looked down and crossed your arms, muttering something that even you didn't quite understand. At that moment, Ragnar had looked at you like someone would look at a child who barely understands the world, and that only increased your childish rage.

Over time, things didn't improve. Ragnar grew into a strong, cunning, and charismatic man. His exploits began to resonate beyond the borders of your small world, and while others celebrated him, you still felt overshadowed by his presence.

Sometimes, you tried to reason with yourself. It wasn't Ragnar's fault that your father adored him so much. It wasn't his fault that others looked at him with admiration. But those thoughts didn't ease the weight in your chest every time his name came up in family conversations, as if everything revolved around him.

There were days when you wished he would go away. That his ship would not return from the sea, that his laughter would stop filling the rooms, that his stories would become a thing of the past. And yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t deny that you were watching him intently. Like a wolf on the prowl, you memorized his every gesture, every word he said.

One day, when you were ten, things reached their breaking point. Ragnar had returned from a long journey, and your father threw a banquet in his honor. The entire village gathered at your house, singing, drinking, and celebrating his return. You were at the back, in the darkest corner of the hall, watching as Ragnar moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who knew he belonged.

When you finally crossed paths with him, he gave you an amused look. “Why are you always so serious when you see me?”

“I’m not serious. I just don’t like you,” you blurted out without thinking.

He laughed, but it wasn’t as loud this time. There was something else in his expression, something you hadn’t seen before: curiosity. “Do you not like me because I’ve always been here, or because you think I don’t pay attention to you?”

The question left you silent, because you didn’t know how to respond. Ragnar always found a way to disarm you, even when you didn’t want to admit it.

“Maybe it’s not you who hates me,” he finally said, leaning in to look you in the eyes. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to share your place in this world with me.”

Those words stuck in your mind, though at the time you didn’t know what to do with them. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, maybe he was right.

Over the years, you left behind the childish games and tantrums, but Ragnar remained a constant in your life. You no longer openly hated him, but you didn't seek him out either. You avoided him, always hiding behind the responsibilities of the house or the social gatherings that you so detested. But even from a distance, you felt his presence like a shadow that stretched over you, a force that you couldn't ignore.

It was around your thirteenth birthday that you began to understand something that you didn't want to accept. Ragnar had returned from another of his trips, this time with the triumphant air of a man who had achieved something great. His face was covered in dust and sun, his eyes shining with that fire that seemed to ignite everyone around him. He entered your home as if he owned the place, with that laugh of his that always managed to put everyone in a good mood. Everyone except you, or at least that's what you forced yourself to believe.

You watched him from the table, hidden behind a curtain of your hair, while he spoke to your father. Ragnar had this ability to capture everyone’s attention, as if words were something created just for him. He was charismatic, strong, and self-assured, and for the first time you noticed something that left you frozen: you didn’t look at him the way you look at a brother.

The thought hit you like a bolt of lightning. All that time, all that anger you’d felt towards him, all the arguments and resentment, it hadn’t been because you wanted him to go away. You hadn’t hated Ragnar because he was your father’s favorite, or because he made you feel small next to him. You’d hated him because you liked him.

The realization stunned you. You’d heard other girls in the village talk about what it was like to be attracted to a man, about how their hearts beat faster and their stomachs filled with nerves when they were around someone they liked. You’d always thought those things were ridiculous, that love was something you didn’t need or want. But now, you felt that same uneasiness in your chest whenever Ragnar was around.

That night, you couldn't sleep. Images of him filled your mind: his laugh, the way his hair fell across his forehead, how his gaze seemed to pierce you every time it met yours. You felt caught between the desire to push him out of your life and the inability to imagine a world without him.

The following days you tried harder than ever to avoid him. If you saw him coming, you would veer off on another path. If your father mentioned his name, you would quickly change the subject. But Ragnar didn't seem willing to ignore you. Every chance he got, he would look for you with his eyes, with that crooked smile that seemed to know more than he was willing to say.

Some time later Ragnar had returned from the north with more than just stories of his travels. He returned with a woman at his side: Lagertha. The first time you saw her, you understood why he had chosen her. She was beautiful, with such a strong and determined presence that she seemed to fill the room without needing to say a word. She was not a simple peasant or any woman. She was a warrior, a shieldmaiden, someone worthy of accompanying a man like him.

And you hated her.

It wasn't because she was evil or cruel, because she wasn't. Lagertha, with her open smile and direct gaze, tried from the beginning to win your sympathy, but you refused point-blank. Every kind word she spoke to you crashed against the wall you had raised between you. You didn't want her friendship. You wanted nothing from her.

But what really tore you apart was Ragnar. He seemed different with Lagertha at his side, as if his world had become complete in a way you had never seen before. When he looked at her, there was something in his eyes that made you grit your teeth: affection. It wasn't the camaraderie she shared with your father or the teasing affection she sometimes gave you. It was something deeper, more real.

At first, you tried to ignore what you felt. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that what Ragnar did with his life wasn’t your problem. But the more time passed, the harder it was to contain the rage that was building up inside you.

You became a walking storm. Your words became sharper, your gestures more abrupt. Everything you did was tinged with an anger that you couldn’t explain to others, not even to yourself. When you crossed paths with Ragnar, you barely looked at him. And if he tried to talk to you, your answers were cold and distant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you one day, after you completely ignored him during a conversation at the family table.

“What would happen to me?” you replied without looking at him, focusing on breaking off a piece of bread as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Ragnar wasn’t stupid. You knew that. He had always been shrewd, able to read people with an ease that was disturbing. But this time, he didn’t seem to quite understand you. He frowned, leaning towards you a little. “You’ve been in a bad mood since I got back. Is it because of Lagertha?”

The sound of her name on his lips made your stomach twist. You forced yourself to remain calm, though. You looked up, staring at him with a hardness you didn’t know you possessed. “So what if she is? I don’t like her. Is that enough for you?”

Ragnar arched an eyebrow, surprised by your bluntness. “She hasn’t done anything to you. Why does she bother you so much?”

“Because I do,” you snapped, bolting up from the table. “Because I didn’t have to bring her here, or marry her.”

He stared at you, and for a moment you thought he was going to insist. But instead, he leaned back against the back of his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t understand why this matters so much to you.”

“And you don’t need to understand it,” you blurted out before exiting the room, leaving your anger and unfinished words behind you.

After that, you avoided any prolonged interaction with him. If he was in a room, you found an excuse to leave. If he spoke to you, you responded in monosyllables or ignored him completely. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you.

But there were times when you couldn’t help but see him, like when he walked beside Lagertha through the fields, his laughter mingling with hers as if they were the only ones who mattered in the world. On those occasions, you felt something inside you break a little more.

When you turned sixteen, the day was a cold, grey sky, as if even the gods shared the melancholy you felt inside. The village was busier than ever; Ragnar and Lagertha had just had their son, Bjorn, a little boy who had already stolen everyone's hearts with his loud cry and inquisitive look.

You received the news while helping your mother in the kitchen. A neighbor came in excitedly, her beaming smile lighting up the room. “A son has been born to Ragnar! A strong, healthy boy. They have named him Bjorn.”

You stood still for a moment, your hands still covered in flour. The air seemed to grow heavy, as if every word of that woman crushed you. Bjorn. Ragnar had a son.

You knew this moment would come. It was natural for a man like him to build a family, for his life to be filled with new bonds and responsibilities. But that certainty didn’t make it hurt any less.

That night, as the village celebrated the birth of the little boy, you stepped away from the crowd. Chants and laughter filled the air, but you couldn’t bear to be there, watching Ragnar and Lagertha receive everyone’s congratulations. Instead, you sat alone on the riverbank, watching the current carry away the fallen leaves.

It was then, in the pale moonlight, that something inside you changed. For years you had carried an unrequited love, a weight that had filled you with rage, sadness, and frustration. But now, thinking of Bjorn and the future Ragnar was building, you realized it was time to let it go.

It wasn't easy. It was like ripping out a part of yourself, a part that had been with you for as long as you could remember. But you knew you could no longer live trapped in that cycle of emotions. Ragnar wasn't yours, and he never would be. And that was okay.

You decided that if you wanted to find your place in the world, you had to free yourself from that weight. So you let it go, like the leaves falling into the river, allowing the current to carry them away to a place you couldn't follow.

Letting it go didn't mean forgetting it, though. Ragnar was still a part of your life, as he always had been. But now you saw him differently. He was no longer the man you wanted, but someone you had learned to respect from a distance.

He was still there when you needed him, though those occasions were becoming less frequent. You were no longer a child, and the world did not revolve around him as you had once felt it did. You were a woman now, and you were determined to forge your own path.

One afternoon, while you were working in the fields, Ragnar approached you. He was carrying Bjorn in his arms, and the boy looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and adoration that made you smile despite everything.

“Aren’t you coming to see the little one?” he asked you, with that smile of his that still managed to disarm you, although in a different way now.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and walked towards them. Bjorn stared at you with his big blue eyes, so similar to his father’s. He extended a small hand towards you, and you couldn’t help but gently take it between your fingers.

“He’s strong,” you said, more to yourself than to Ragnar.

“Like his mother,” he replied with a soft laugh.

You looked at him, feeling a calmness you hadn’t known before. “And like his father.”

Ragnar watched you for a moment, as if trying to decipher something in your expression. But he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

That was the last time you allowed the ghosts of your past love to visit you. From then on, you focused on yourself, on your own goals and dreams. Ragnar was still a part of your life, but no longer the axis of your thoughts.

A year later when you turned seventeen, your world began to expand in ways you had never imagined. Ragnar, always restless, had begun to embark on more frequent trips, exploring new lands and discovering unknown horizons. It was on one of those days, while he was planning his next expedition, that you decided to accompany him. It wasn’t something you thought about much; you simply felt it. You wanted something more, something far from the confines of the village you had called home all your life.

“Are you sure you want to come?” Ragnar asked you when you proposed, with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile. “The sea is not as kind as it seems.”

“As kind as you, I suppose,” you replied with a spark of humor that made him laugh. “I don’t mind. I want to go.”

And so it was that you found yourself on the ship, surrounded by men weathered by wind and water, the smell of salt filling your senses. At first, you didn’t know what to expect. The constant movement of the waves was disconcerting, and the sound of the wood creaking beneath your feet made you feel small and insignificant. But as the days passed, you began to understand why Ragnar loved these voyages so much.

There was a freedom at sea that couldn’t be found anywhere else. There were no village expectations, no inquisitive glances, no questions about your future. On the ship, you were simply you, facing a world that stretched beyond the horizon.

Ragnar taught you to navigate by the stars, pointing out constellations you’d never noticed before. “Look there,” he said one night, as the sky spread out like a black blanket studded with diamonds. “Those take us north.”

“And those others,” you added, pointing to a group of stars that seemed especially bright to you, “where do they take us?”

He looked at you with a calm smile. “Wherever you want to go.”

It was in those moments, amidst the vastness of the ocean, that you began to understand something about yourself. You had spent years feeling trapped, first by your emotions towards Ragnar, then by the weight of your own expectations. But here, far away from everything, you realized that freedom was not something anyone could give you; it was something you had to claim for yourself.

When you reached land, every place you discovered filled you with wonder. The villages you visited, the new faces, the unfamiliar languages… everything was a reminder of how big the world was and how small you were within it. But that smallness did not intimidate you. On the contrary, it inspired you.

Ragnar seemed to notice the change in you. Although he did not say it openly, his gestures made it clear. When she watched you interact with the villagers or explore the markets with eyes full of curiosity, there was something in her expression that almost seemed like… pride.

When you returned from travels, there was always a mix of relief and melancholy. Returning meant safety, the warmth of home, but also the return to routines and inevitable questions.

Lagertha, who you had learned to get along with better, always greeted you with a smile and a question she couldn’t seem to avoid: “Well? When are you going to marry one of the men?”

That question always made you feel uncomfortable. You knew it was common for you to be engaged at your age, but the thought of tying yourself down to someone had never been appealing to you. Not after everything you had felt for Ragnar. Not after having tasted the freedom that travel offered you.

“I haven’t found anyone worth it yet,” you always answered with a noncommittal smile, trying to downplay it.

Lagertha would often laugh at your answer, though she would insist. “You are beautiful and strong. There is no shortage of men in this village who would want you as a wife.”

You would simply shrug and change the subject. Although you could now see that Lagertha was not your enemy, you could not confess the truth to her either. You could not tell her that deep down, there was still a part of you that could not imagine being with anyone but Ragnar, though you knew that dream would never come true.

It was not long before you were once again embarking on another journey with Ragnar. This time, the destination was beyond anything you had ever imagined. There was talk of faraway lands, with riches and wonders that few had ever seen. The preparations were long and meticulous; the journey would be longer and more dangerous, but the excitement in the air was palpable.

“Are you sure you want to come?” Ragnar asked for the umpteenth time, as he adjusted the oars on the boat.

“What kind of question is that?” you replied with a defiant smile. “Of course I’m going.”

Ragnar nodded, though his eyes reflected more than just acceptance. It was a mix of pride and concern, but you didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

The first leg of the journey was exciting, as always. The wind filled the sails and the horizon stretched out before you like an endless promise. But as the days passed, the conditions began to change. The waters grew colder, the air heavier, and your strength began to fail.

At first it was a simple malaise that you tried to ignore. A slight fever, some weakness. But soon it became impossible to hide. Your body was exhausted, and every movement cost you more effort than you wanted to admit. Ragnar was the first to notice.

“You look pale,” he commented one night as you stood by the fire, trying to warm up from the cold sea.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your tone firmer than you felt.

But the next day, when you tried to get up to help row, your legs wouldn't respond. Ragnar caught up with you before you could fall to the ground.

"Enough!" he said, his tone so authoritative it brooked no reply. "You're not well. You need to rest."

You were placed on a makeshift bed inside the ship, and though you resisted at first, your body soon gave out. The fever rose, and the weakness became unbearable. You could barely open your eyes, and when you did, everything seemed to spin around you.

Ragnar remained by your side from that moment on, like a constant shadow. He barely ate or slept, always attentive to any change in your condition. His face, normally full of confidence and energy, was now marked with worry.

In the moments when you were conscious, you could hear Ragnar speaking softly. You couldn't always understand what he said, but his words were often directed at you.

“This is my fault,” he muttered one night, as he changed the damp cloth on your forehead. “I shouldn’t have let you come. I was selfish to think you could handle this. I always wanted you around… but I should never have put you in danger.”

You wanted to respond, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that this trip had been your decision, but the words wouldn't come out. All you could do was weakly squeeze his hand when he took it, a gesture that seemed to give him minimal comfort.

Your illness lasted for weeks in those distant lands, an unknown place where every dawn seemed just as uncertain. No one knew exactly what had caused you such extreme weakness: the change in climate, the different food, or simply the exhaustion of the journey. The days passed in a mix of hope and worry, and although the others continued with their tasks of exploration and looting, Ragnar did not leave your side.

The fever slowly subsided, and your strength began to return. At first, getting out of bed was a triumph, a small step towards normality. But as the weeks turned into a month and a half, you found yourself trapped in a state of endless recovery. Ragnar did not let you do absolutely anything, which at first you were grateful for, but soon began to drive you crazy.

“You’re not ready yet,” Ragnar insisted every time you tried to get up to do more than walk a few steps.

“I’m better,” you protested one day, crossing your arms in frustration. “I can carry something, help around camp, train even.”

“No, you can’t,” he replied, his tone firm enough to shut down the conversation before it even began. “I don’t want to see you lifting anything heavier than that plate of food.”

The concern on his face was evident, and though you understood where he was coming from, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. You weren’t used to someone limiting you like that, least of all Ragnar.

“You’re worse than any disease,” you murmured, your tone more playful than angry.

Ragnar smiled slightly, but didn’t relent. “You can hate me all you want, but you’re staying here. I’m not going to risk you relapsing.”

With Ragnar acting as a relentless guardian, your world shrank to the walls of the house where you were staying. It was a simple building, with wooden walls and a roof that barely protected you from the icy wind. Although you were grateful to have a place to shelter, the stillness made you feel useless.

You did small tasks: cleaning utensils, mending the clothes of the men traveling with you, and even cooking when you were allowed. But none of that filled the void you felt from not being able to participate in training or scouting. The lack of action weighed on you like an invisible burden, and though you tried to hide it, it was clear that you were not satisfied.

Sometimes, as you worked in silence, you felt Ragnar's eyes on you. When you faced him, he would simply smile and look away, as if he wanted to reassure you that everything was okay. But that only made you more upset.

There were days when you felt like a burden. Seeing the others return to camp with stories of what they had seen and done while you had barely stepped out into the yard was a constant reminder of what you had lost. You didn't want to admit it, but you felt weak, and that was something you had never handled well.

Ragnar seemed to sense your emotions even when you said nothing. “Why are you so quiet?” he asked you one night, as you ate dinner in silence.

“I’m thinking,” you replied, not wanting to go into details.

“Thinking about what?”

You paused, unsure if you wanted to tell him the truth. Finally, you decided to be honest. “About how useless I feel here. Everyone is out there, exploring, fighting… and I’m here, mending clothes.”

Ragnar set his bowl aside and looked you straight in the eyes. “That doesn’t make you useless. You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s all that matters now.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you replied, your tone bordering on resentment. “You’re out there, being who you are. I’m stuck here, being… nothing.”

Ragnar sighed, as if he understood your frustration more than you cared to admit. “Sometimes, surviving is the hardest thing we can do. But don’t think for a moment that you’re not important. I wouldn’t be here, wasting my time with you, if I thought that.”

His words, though well-intentioned, didn’t completely dispel your unease.

In those days you tried to convince yourself that it was all behind you. The childish love you once felt for Ragnar was a distant memory, a whim buried beneath the years of maturity and the reality of his life with Lagertha. You had spent enough time hating him, loving him, and finally letting him go, or so you told yourself. However, as the days passed in that small village, something began to change.

The way Ragnar looked at you was different. You weren’t entirely sure at first, but there was something in the intensity of his gaze, in how his eyes seemed to search yours for no apparent reason. It was like every time you moved around the house, even in the most mundane moments, he was watching, watching.

That invisible weight, that tension between the two of you that seemed to fill the air. Every time you were near him, you felt a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself it was just your imagination, but it wasn’t that simple.

For his part, Ragnar was experiencing something he couldn’t explain. For years, he’d always seen you as the little girl who ran around the camp, the younger sister who looked down on him or argued with him about anything. He’d been by your side like an older brother, like a protector. But now… now he couldn’t help but see you differently.

He didn’t know when it had started exactly. Maybe it was when he realized how strong you’d been during your illness, fighting weakness with silent determination. Or maybe it was simply the fact that, by spending so much time together, he’d started to notice things he hadn’t seen before.

The way the sunlight lit up your hair as you moved near the window. The softness in your gestures as you worked on chores around the house, even if you did it in annoyance. The way your eyes sparkled when you were angry at him for not letting you do more.

Everything about you intrigued him.

One afternoon, as you stood alone in the yard trying to mend an old coat, Ragnar appeared. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat next to you, watching your fingers move with precision.

“Why are you always staring at me?” you finally asked, without looking at him.

Ragnar smiled, but didn’t answer right away. “And why are you always so attentive to what I do?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the blush that rose to your cheeks. “Because you’re impossible to ignore. You’re always there, like a shadow.”

“Maybe because I like being where you are,” he replied with a sincerity that took you by surprise.

You stopped, the thread in your hands hanging. His words weren’t brazen, but they weren’t innocent either. You looked at him, trying to read on his face if he was joking or if there was something more behind his words. What you saw in his eyes disarmed you: there was no trace of mockery, only a curiosity that seemed to dig deep inside you.

From that moment on, everything seemed to be charged with a new energy between you. Casual conversations were filled with awkward silences, as if both of you knew something was changing but neither of you wanted to admit it.

Ragnar couldn’t help but find excuses to spend time with you. He always had some reason to come over, whether it was to bring you some water, check on how you were feeling, or just sit quietly beside you. And you, despite your frustration, couldn’t help but feel more aware of his presence than ever.

One night, while the others slept, you stepped out into the courtyard to get some air. Ragnar appeared shortly after, as if he knew exactly where you were.

“You can’t sleep,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

You shook your head. “The air here is different. It’s hard to breathe sometimes.”

He nodded, coming close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body in the cold night. “Do you regret coming?”

“No,” you answered quickly, looking up at the stars. “Despite everything… I don’t regret it.”

Ragnar was silent for a moment, before saying, “Me neither.”

You turned to look at him, searching for some meaning in his words. But before you could ask, he had already looked away, as if he was afraid to say anything more.

The day after the conversation in the courtyard, you decided that you couldn't allow what you felt for Ragnar to take shape. If you allowed those feelings to grow, you would lose control over yourself, over your life, over your ability to decide. And worst of all, you would lose Ragnar in a way you didn't want to even imagine. So, for three whole days, you avoided him.

You didn't look him in the eye more than necessary, you kept yourself busy with tasks that took you away from him, and you always looked for excuses not to be around. Every time Ragnar showed up at camp, you somehow slipped out of his reach, seeking to avoid the tension you knew existed between the two of you.

But despite all your efforts, you couldn't deny that every time Ragnar looked at you, there was something in his eyes that overwhelmed you. The tension grew like a storm about to break. You knew he felt the same way too, and even though you tried not to admit it, the emotions were eating you up from the inside.

On the fourth day, confrontation was inevitable. Ragnar found you in the small tent where you were busy organizing the equipment. He closed the entrance behind him with a soft knock, and stared at you silently, knowing you had been avoiding him.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice low and calm, as always, but this time with something more. An urgency.

You stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he came closer, closing the distance between you. “Stop running away from what’s happening between us.”

You breathed quickened at the closeness, at the certainty in his voice. You knew he was just as caught up in this game as you were. But you couldn’t let this be real. You shouldn’t.

“You’re right,” you murmured, looking away. “But we can’t…”

“We can’t keep ignoring what we feel, can we?” Ragnar interrupted, leaning slightly towards you, searching your eyes.

The space between you shrank to inches, the electricity in the air palpable. You could hear your own heartbeat quickening, the heat of his body overwhelming you. And before you could stop him, Ragnar raised a hand and gently touched your cheek.

The contact ignited a spark that ran through your entire body. You couldn’t resist it any longer. Without thinking, you launched yourself at him, your lips meeting his in a fiery kiss. It was as if all the time of tension, of repressed desires, exploded in that single moment.

Ragnar responded immediately, his hands moving up your back, pulling you closer to him. Your hands tangled in his hair, as the kiss deepened, moving from something passionate to something more urgent, more desperate.

“I love you… I always have,” you managed to whisper between the kisses, unable to keep quiet what you had held in for so long. The words came out of you with the same intensity you had repressed those feelings with for years.

Ragnar didn't respond. He looked into your eyes, as if he wanted to make sure you had really said it. But he didn't say anything, he just kissed you again, harder, as if the answer was in the act, not the words.

The intensity of that kiss didn't go away. Instead, it intensified as his hands moved with an urgency you had never seen in him. There were no more barriers, only the desire to explore what had been dormant between you.

Ragnar took you firmly, guiding you towards the bed with gentle but determined movements. You didn't say anything, because you knew you didn't need to. Everything that had been left unsaid between the two of you was now expressed in a much more intimate and direct way.

That night, was the first time you spent in his bed. And he was the first man you had ever been with. You felt it in every touch, in every caress, in the way he knew you and wanted you with an intensity you had never experienced before. At that moment, Ragnar was not only the man you had secretly desired, but the only one you wanted to share your body and soul with.

When you finally rested, breathing intertwined, you said nothing. There was no need. There was no turning back, no way to deny what had grown between you and finally unleashed.

The night stretched between you like a blanket of calm after the storm. The two of you lay together, the softness of your breaths intertwined in the stillness of the bed. Despite the intensity of what had happened, something in your chest was still churning.

Ragnar, lying next to you, watched you with an intensity that overwhelmed you. His gaze was deep, as if he were trying to decipher something that had been hidden for a long time. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low, but with an unmistakable weight.

“You love me… Why didn’t you tell me before?”

The question left you speechless for a moment. You turned to look at him, and although his face was serene, his eyes reflected a mix of surprise and something else, something that seemed to be a request for explanations.

You knew you couldn’t hide it anymore, but how to respond? How to explain all the suffering and anguish you had felt loving someone who seemed unattainable?

“I didn’t say it because I knew you would never love me back,” you replied, your voice cracking, the pain of all those years of silence making a dent in your tone. “And besides… you have a family. Lagertha… your son…”

Ragnar looked at you in silence for a moment, as if he was processing your words. The seconds seemed eternal as his gaze softened, as if he too understood the weight of what you had just said.

“Don’t think about it,” he finally said, his tone filled with a firmness that left no room for doubt. “Let’s not think about what we can’t change.”

Before you could respond, Ragnar kissed you again. A deep kiss. In that kiss there was no room for doubt or fear.

The nights that followed were like a dream from which you didn’t want to wake up. Every night you spent in his bed, every night Ragnar adored you with an intensity that made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. In his eyes, you looked more beautiful than ever, and every word that came out of his mouth, every touch his hands offered, enveloped you in a feeling of ecstasy you had never known.

He treated you with a tenderness and fervor that overflowed from what you had imagined in your most secret dreams. His caresses were soft, but his kisses were ardent, as if he wanted to erase all the distance that had existed between you during all those years. You felt that you were finally seen, that Ragnar saw you, not as the girl who was once part of his life, but as the woman you were now. And, for the first time, you did not care what the future might bring.

However, that peace you had found in his closeness, that security that Ragnar seemed to give you, was shaken when the time of staying in distant lands came to an end. The journey home was long, tense, and for the first time, uncertainty settled over you.

Every day that passed, the question hung in the air, even if neither of you said it out loud: what will happen when we get home? You knew Ragnar had a family, and even though he told you not to think about it, you couldn't help it. Lagertha, his son and the one on the way, his life... it was all there, waiting for them. And what was left for you? What was left for what you had shared? The distance between the realities you faced became more and more evident as the journey progressed.

Despite everything, hope was still alive in your heart. Despite the doubts that haunted you, the constant question about what would happen when you returned home.

Ragnar didn't talk much during the trip, and perhaps, in part, neither did you. You both knew there was something that needed to be resolved, something that couldn't be left hanging in the air.

The wind blew hard, the waves of the sea crashed against the rocks, but as you approached the familiar shores, the weight of the unknown seemed to increase. You didn't know what you would do when you set foot in your home, nor how you would react to seeing Lagertha, nor what Ragnar would think of everything that had happened.

Returning home was a heartbreaking contrast to the intense emotions of the trip. As soon as you arrived, the usual routine seemed to take its place as if time in distant lands had not happened. Lagertha had given birth to a girl while you were away, and Ragnar's joy for his new daughter filled the air.

You stood by, watching from a distance. You went back home to your parents, trying to put a physical and emotional barrier between you and Ragnar. You thought that distance might help you forget, that staying away from him, from his family, might ease the weight of what you shared.

You didn’t visit his home, not even when your parents mentioned his name. You tried to distract yourself with your own tasks, with the life you’d put on hold while you traveled. But, despite all your attempts, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. Every corner of your memory seemed to be permeated with his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

And then, as if fate wanted to mock you, he appeared. Ragnar arrived at your house without warning, his laughter echoing from the living room as he spoke to your parents. You heard his voice before you saw him, and something inside you tensed. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever, but that encounter took you by surprise.

You decided to stay in your room, taking refuge in the distance you could still maintain. You figured that if you didn’t see him, it would be easier to ignore the reality of his presence, easier to remind yourself that you couldn’t keep feeding what you felt.

But Ragnar wasn’t one to be ignored easily. As night fell and the house fell silent, you knew something was about to change. You felt his presence before he knocked on your door, before he peeked into the room with that look that always managed to disarm you.

“Are you going to hide from me all night?” he asked quietly, closing the door behind him before you could answer.

“I’m not hiding,” you replied, even though you both knew it was a lie. You didn’t look up from your hands, afraid that if you did, all the control you’d tried to build would crumble in an instant.

Ragnar didn’t say anything. He walked over to where you were sitting and, with a calmness only he could project, knelt in front of you. His eyes searched yours, and when you finally looked at him, you felt all the weight of your will evaporate.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“And yet, here I am,” he replied with a smile that only made things more complicated.

You didn’t know how it happened, but before you could stop him, his lips were on yours. It was a slow kiss, filled with an intensity you hadn’t forgotten. Everything you had tried to bury, all the distance you had tried to impose, crumbled in that instant.

“Ragnar…” you tried to speak, but he shook his head, silencing you with another kiss.

That night, you had him in your bed, and the weight of the forbidden made every moment even more intense. You tried to keep quiet, afraid someone might hear, but Ragnar seemed to be in no hurry, taking his time exploring every corner of your skin as if he wanted to memorize you.

Every caress, every whisper in your ear, made the outside world disappear. For a few hours, there were no wives or children, no families or responsibilities, just the two of you in that room, sharing something that couldn't be explained with words.

When the heat of the moment was behind you, your body intertwined with his. The silence in the room was deep, broken only by the sound of your breathing calming down. Ragnar wrapped one arm around you, pulling you towards him, while his other hand gently rested on your bare belly.

He began to trace slow, abstract movements on your stomach with the tips of his fingers, almost absentmindedly, as if his mind was somewhere else. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, though you couldn't guess what was going through his head.

“Once,” he began in a low, contemplative tone, “a witch told me I would have many children. More than I could count.”

His words, spoken with a mix of seriousness and curiosity, struck something deep within you. Even though he didn’t seem aware of the impact they might have, you felt a pang of sadness creep into your chest. You didn’t know exactly why; perhaps because those words were a reminder of the life he led, a life that didn’t include a future with you.

You swallowed, trying to contain the lump that formed in your throat, but it was useless. A silent tear rolled down your cheek, followed by another. You tried to turn your face away, you didn't want him to see you like that, you didn't want him to know how much those words had touched a wound you tried to ignore.

“What's wrong?” Ragnar asked, noticing your silence and the trembling in your breathing. He sat up slightly, turning to you with a worried expression. “Did I say something that hurt you?”

You shook your head, but your lips trembled. “It's not that... I just... I don't know.” The words escaped you; you couldn't explain this whirlwind of emotions that invaded you.

Ragnar took your face with both hands, wiping the tears with his thumb while looking at you with an intensity that disarmed you. “I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Never.”

His eyes, as blue as the clear sky, reflected a sincerity that hurt you even more. You wanted to tell him how you felt, but how to put into words something so complex? How to explain that it wasn’t his fault, but the weight of everything you shared, of everything that couldn’t be?

“I’m fine,” you finally managed to say, though your voice was a broken whisper. “I just… sometimes wonder how I fit into your life. Or if I do.”

Ragnar watched you in silence for a moment, and then pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in a warm, protective embrace. “Don’t think about it now,” he said softly, his voice echoing in his chest against your ear. “What we have here, now… that’s what matters. I don’t want you to cry for me. I don’t want this to hurt you.”

You clung to him, letting his warmth comfort you, though the questions in your mind remained unanswered. His words were a temporary balm, but they couldn’t undo the truth of the situation. Yet, at that moment, you decided to allow yourself to believe him, if only for that night. Because when you were in his arms, the world seemed a little less complicated, and that was enough to keep you going.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions for you. You had tried to get back to the routine, to the normality that you so wanted to get back, but something inside you had changed. It wasn't just the guilt or the love you still felt for Ragnar, it was something deeper, something you hadn't faced until you started to notice the first signs.

At first, you ignored it. The constant tiredness, the nausea that hit you without warning, it could all be attributed to the wear and tear of the trip, or the stress you had accumulated. But you couldn't deny the truth for long. With each passing day, the signs became clearer, until you finally accepted what your body was trying to tell you: you were pregnant.

The revelation was a shock that left you breathless. You sat on the edge of your bed, trembling hands holding your belly as reality sank in. The life you carried inside was too big a secret to share, a secret that could change everything.

You couldn't tell your parents. Their disappointment would be an unbearable weight, and the scandal that could be unleashed if anyone else found out was something you weren't willing to face. You couldn't tell Ragnar either. He had a family. The last thing you wanted was to further complicate their life, or yours.

So you decided to keep it to yourself. He was yours, and yours alone.

Days turned into weeks, and you learned to hide the signs. When you felt sick, you found an excuse to get away. When tiredness got the better of you, you made sure no one noticed. But keeping the secret wasn't easy, especially when Ragnar was around.

There was something in his gaze that seemed to pierce through you, as if he could see past your attempts to hide the truth. Even though he didn't say anything, you knew he suspected something was bothering you. His questions were subtle, but constant, and every time you evaded them you felt the tension between you grow.

At night, when you lay alone, the weight of your decision crushed you. You wondered if you had done the right thing, if keeping the secret was really the best option. But every time you thought about what could happen if the truth came out, you convinced yourself that you had no other choice.

It was madness, a storm you couldn't control, but you had no choice but to face it alone.

The days continued to pass with a tension that seemed to cut off your air. Every glance from your parents, every conversation with Ragnar, was like walking on brittle ice. You knew you couldn't stay much longer. Not because you didn't want to, but because every moment prolonged the risk of your secret being discovered, and that wasn't something you could allow.

You hadn’t made the decision lightly. For days, you’d been turning it over in your mind, searching for options, wondering if there was any way to stay, to keep what you carried inside you safe without destroying everything else. But every path you imagined led to the same place: to chaos, to pain, and to a scandal that would affect not only you, but everyone around you.

You couldn’t allow that. And so, one night, as you sat alone in your room, you decided you had to leave.

The conversation with your parents was one of the hardest things you’d ever faced. You sat with them at the family table, your hands clenched in your lap to hide the shaking.

“I need to go,” you finally said, breaking the silence that seemed to weigh like a slab in the air.

Your parents looked at each other, confused. It was your mother who spoke first. “Leave? Where?”

“Away,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I need some time to myself, to find my own way. I’ve been feeling… trapped.”

It wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Your parents seemed to hesitate, exchanging glances that clearly argued your request without the need for words.

“Does this have anything to do with Ragnar?” your father finally asked, his tone sterner.

Just hearing his name made your heart stop for a moment. But you shook your head. “No. This is something of mine, something I need to do.”

Your mother tried to convince you to stay. She told you about how dangerous it was to travel alone, how you’d always had a safe home with them. But you had already made up your mind. You listened to her in silence, letting her words flow over you like water over rock. When she was done, you simply repeated, “I have to.”

“If Ragnar knows you’re leaving…” your father began, but you cut him off with a gesture.

“He mustn’t know. I beg you. If he asks, tell him I left because I needed some space, but don’t tell him anything else.”

Your mother looked at you with concern, while your father frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the request. But eventually, they nodded. You gave them no other options.

You had planned everything in secret. You knew where you would go: a small settlement far from Kattegat, isolated enough to avoid questions. You had packed the few things you needed into a sack and prepared a horse to set out at dawn.

The night before your departure was the longest of your life. You were alone in your room, watching the shadows move on the walls as a storm of emotions raged within you. There was pain, sure, pain so deep it seemed to cut your soul in two. But there was also a strange sense of relief, as if you had finally taken control of your destiny.

You didn’t sleep that night. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, you got up, got dressed, and grabbed your things. Your parents bid you farewell in silence, though your mother couldn’t help but hug you tightly before you mounted your horse.

“Be careful,” she told you with tears in her eyes.

“I will be,” you promised, though you weren’t sure it was true.

As you left Kattegat behind you, you felt an emptiness in your chest that threatened to devour you. Each step of the horse seemed to take you further away from everything you knew, from everyone you loved, but also closer to a future that was now yours alone.

You knew this path would be difficult. You knew you would be alone, and that there would be times when you would question whether you had made the right decision. But you also knew you had no other choice. You had to protect your son, even if it meant sacrificing everything else.

As the landscape changed around you, you held on to that thought. Because while the pain of leaving Ragnar and your family was unbearable, it was also a reminder of how strong you were. And that no matter what, you would find a way to move forward.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #ragnar lothbrok #ragnar lothbrok x reader #vikings #ragnar x reader #ragnar x lagertha #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #lagertha #ragnar x you #bjorn ragnarsson

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

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avalilsbfss · 2 months ago

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‘Little princess’ ivar the boneless short

Domestic Ivar the boneless x wife!reader

Warnings: none.

Description: ivars “little princess’ wants to train so you help her out

you and ivar had 3 children together now. Uhtred age 10 and the twins Finan and Iselut age 7, and another one on to be born very soon. (or so the healers say.)

You were beginning to think that ivar was going to get you with child as many times as possible, just to prove he could.

Ivar took up training the boys, they were natural fighters already, they were skilled in there own ways just like him, but they just needed some tutoring to rein in there stubbornness and there egos that caused them to think they were better than each other.

every time they would train, iseult would sit close by, aimlessly picking at the threads and the seams of her dress or trying to build the confidence to ask to join. She didn’t know why she was frightened. She was her father ‘little princess’ who could do wrong, any harm done to her ivar would chuck the culprits into the water and hold their heads down until the bubbles stoped and then offer there corpse to the gods.

But in truth she was scared her brothers were going to embarrass her or she was going to embarrass herself infront of them.

you were a shield maiden for most of your life before you married ivar and you were a darn good fighter as well, you only stoped fighting when you got pregnant and ivar wanted to keep you safe. And iseult looked up to you.

you watched the boys train occasionally when you were bored of being confined to your chambers and you tried not to snicker as the boys fell sometimes, then your eye caught iseult, she was always sitting on on top of a barrel in the yard anxiously picking at the seams of her dress as she kept looking over to ivar and her brothers.

it broke your heart at her being nervous to ask to join, she was a good girl, shy, sweet but she had a temper like ivar and the rest of her family. she was just nervous and you wished ivar would notice that.

One day you had enough and walked over to her. “You know. If you want to join just ask them” you told her, making her jump.

“I-I can’t ask them, uhtred said I’m to small and won’t even be able to hold anything.” she pouted softly and glanced over to the pile of weapons in the yard.

“Uhtred also thinks he will grow up to marry a Valkyrie” you said matter of factly and iseult giggled. “Besides who said anything about a heavy weapon?” You asked her and she looked at you confused

You looked around and found a small bow and arrow on the table, you picked it up and gestured her to jump down.

She hopped down and you handed her the bow and slotted in the arrow for her. “Ok keep your hand here…and draw back to your cheek” you instructed and she did as you said.

You helped her position and aimed it at the barrel that was in the direction off ivar and the boys. “Ok…when You’re ready ok” you told her and she nodded nervously before letting go.

The arrow file past the ivar and the boys. Almost catching finan on the cheek as it hit the barrel.

And all the 3 boys turned to look at her and ivar let out a suprised laugh

Masterlist

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fantasydreamland · 3 months ago

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Answered Prayers

ragnar lothbrok x fem reader

Summary: After being captured by the Vikings your prayers to god remain unanswered, as you come to realize they always have. An intriguing Viking man teaches you of their ways, and all your prayers are answered. (No language barrier & Ragnar is unmarried for the sake of the story).

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smuttt, maybe some fluff, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, oral (f), angst, kidnapping/violence/raiding in opening story, possible spoilers.

Word count: 3.7k

I’m very into Norse spirituality so I loved writing this

masterlist

Everyone in the city moves in a panic as the bells ring, alarms in response to the Northmen pulling up to your shores. You find a spot in your house to hide and clutch your cross close to your chest as you pray to god to protect you from these heathens.

A bang startles you as a Viking man kicks down your door. Your heart races as you hear him tearing apart the house searching for valuables. You hear screams outside and continue whispering prayers to god begging him to keep you from being found.

The Viking eventually finds you hiding in a corner between your bed and the wall. Your heart stops when his bright blue eyes meet yours. His eyes examine you from head to toe before he smirks.

“Please… please don’t kill me.” You beg through oncoming tears. “Take whatever you want, just please.”

“Come.” He reaches his hand out for you to take.

You look up at him with furrowed brows in confusion.

“You said I can take whatever I want.” The man says. “So come.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t hurt me…” You cry.

“If you come with me, I will have no reason to hurt you.” He steps closer. “Otherwise…” He gestures to the axe in his hand.

You sniffle as you get up onto your feet. The Viking gestures his hand out to you again which you reluctantly take. He rushes out of the house, dragging you along with him. A small shriek escapes you as your eyes take in the dead bodies and blood everywhere. The man pays no mind to any of it as he pulls you through the city and leads you right out the front gates and into their Viking camp.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” A large Viking man with long dark hair approaches you. You pull away as he tries to brush hair from your face.

“Leave her be.” Your captor says as more of the men come over to ogle at you.

“Why? She is a useless Christian. Only good for one thing...” The man smirks at you.

“She is mine, keep your hands to yourself Rollo.” Your captor replies. “That goes for all of you! No one touches her, she belongs to me.”

You take a small breath of relief before your captor grabs your hand again and leads you far from the group and into a tent.

“Sit.” The man gestures to a small cot. “What is your name?”

“(y/n).” You say as you sit.

“(y/n)…” He hums. “Interesting name. I’m Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“Thank you Ragnar.” You say lowly.

“For what?”

“Out there, protecting me from the other men…” You respond. “And I guess… thank you for not killing me.”

“Like I said to the men, you are mine. They will not harm you as long as you are with me, understand?”

You nod your head.

“What are you going to do with me?” You ask.

He smirks in response before looking you up and down, making you nervous.

“I have not decided yet.” He shrugs with a smirk still on his face.

**********

The journey back to their land was long and dreadful. You had never been on a boat before and the ride made you nauseous. Ragnar kept a close eye on you and made sure no one bothered you.

As soon as they dock Ragnar quickly sneaks you away like he is trying to hide you. He leads you to his small farmhouse outside of town.

“Am I your slave now?” You ask once inside.

He laughs at your response and you scowl.

“I have no need for slaves.” He shrugs.

“If you wish to cook or clean for me, or do other things…” He smirks at you suggestively, making you blush. “I would certainly not object, but you will not be forced to do anything.”

“So I am not a slave… but I am not a free woman?” You question.

“Yes.” He simply responds.

“Then why am I here?”

“I do not know. The gods have not revealed your purpose to me yet.”

“There is only one god.” You say sternly.

He laughs again making anger rise in your cheeks.

“Maybe your god will reveal to you your purpose then.” He says teasingly.

**********

The next couple days were surprisingly peaceful. You did not dare to try and leave the house. Although he never asked you to, you cooked and cleaned mostly to have something to occupy your time but Ragnar appreciated you either way. He would disappear for most of the day to god knows where, but when he returned you would have a hot meal waiting for him.

Ragnar would ask many questions, about your life and your god. You asked about him in return and he told you all about his adventures and of his gods.

“Are you a virgin?” Ragnar asks out of nowhere while you are eating supper.

You choke on your drink, the question taking you off guard.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you are unmarried right?” He continues. “I have heard Christians remain virgins until they are married.”

“Well, um, yes. It would be a sin otherwise.” You respond shyly.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it a sin?” He asks with curiosity in his tone.

“I- um, I don’t know. It’s just a sin. You should only make children with your husband or wife.”

“Well, that is a bit silly isn’t it?”

“What is so ‘silly’ about that?” You scowl.

“Because making children is not the only reason to have sex.” He shrugs.

“What do you mean?” You ask, heat rising in your cheeks from annoyance and another feeling you couldn’t quite place.

“Do they teach you nothing?” He raises his brow.

“Not really… especially us women. They keep us sheltered from everything.”

“Well,” He says, taking the food bowl from your hands and placing it down.

He leans towards you until his breath brushes your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

“Sex can provide you with the greatest of pleasures…” He says lowly in your ear, your heart races. “If you know where to touch.” His fingers graze up your knee.

“Your gods… they do not care if you sin?” You ask but it comes out as a whisper.

He chuckles.

“To our gods, it is not wrong. The gods gave us the gift of such pleasure, why would they deny us from taking it?” He shrugs.

“I guess that is true…” You whisper.

“I can show you our ways, if you want.” He says with a devilish grin, moving his hand back to your knee.

“What? No. No I- Um, no… thank you.” You stutter, taken aback by his offer.

“Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me.” He whispers in your ear before standing and cleaning up from supper.

You go to bed early, trying to hide your flushed cheeks since your conversation. Ragnar eventually begins to lightly snore from the next room that was only separated by a thin wall with gaps you could see through. His words replay in your head, “greatest of pleasures if you know where to touch.”. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lightly trace your fingers along your neck and collarbone, the feeling creating goosebumps. Without even realizing, you start imagining Ragnar’s hand as yours travels lower. You grab onto your breast before your hand continues down. Your fingers tease at the hem of your pants before slowly moving down into them. You lightly touch the sensitive skin and it sends a jolt through you making you gasp louder than intended. You hear Ragnar stir in the next room and you quickly pull your hand from your pants as you look to him, still asleep. You sigh and try to get comfortable to sleep. Everything that has happened within the last few days has left you so lost and confused. You have been praying to god every day but nothing changes, nothing reassures you and what you are supposed to do in this place. Your mind continues to race until sleep eventually pulls you under.

**********

“I would like to go into the mountain to pray.” You say to Ragnar.

“Why? So you can run away?” He gives you a teasing scoff.

You can’t hide the small laugh that escapes your lips.

“You know I would not make it very far without you.” You roll your eyes at him. “Besides, I need you to show me the way.”

“Alright then… perhaps tomorrow.” He shrugs.

“No, today.” You push. “Right now… please.”

You were desperate to have a moment of solitude and a private moment speak to god.

“Very well, we should go now while the sun is still high.” Ragnar says as he heads towards the door, you stand and follow after him.

He leads you up the hills of the forest until you reach a clearing facing the water. The stunning view took your breath away.

“I… I need to be alone.” You say to Ragnar.

“Do not try to escape.” He winks at you. “I will be just down this hill when you are done.”

You give him a grateful smile and you watch him walk away until he is out of sight. Turning back to face the edge of the cliff, you close your eyes take a deep breath as you feel the breeze brush across your face. You crouch to the ground onto your knees and bring your hands together in prayer.

“Heavenly father… Please help me to find my path. I feel so lost in this unfamiliar world and do not know what I am to do next or who I am meant to be now… And I feel… as if my prayers to protect and watch over me have gone unanswered, especially when I was taken by these people.” You pray with tears coming to your eyes. “Please god, if you are there, if you are watching over me… if you are real… please send me a sign.”

You open your eyes and watch for any sort of sign that your god is with you. Nothing happens.

“Please, give me any sign so I know you are watching over me as I have always believed.”

You wait again, and wait, and wait. The world was still, not even a stronger gust of wind to show a possible sign from god.

You drop your hands into your lap in defeat. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks until an idea crosses your mind. You breathe out a laugh to yourself feeling a bit silly for what you were about to try. You bring your hands back together but instead have a strange urge to connect to the earth. You bow, reaching your hands forward into the ground, feeling the dirt and grass between your fingers.

“Odin…” You close your eyes and begin, whispering so quietly it’s nearly silent. “Freyja… Thor… Please hear me. Hear my prayers. Help me, guide me, to who I am supposed to be now… what I am supposed to do.”

Suddenly, a raven lets out a loud ‘caw’ startling you. Your head shoots up and you look to the bird watching you from a rock to your side. Your heart races and your eyes go wide as you watch each other. A tickle on your hand makes you look down to see a white butterfly that landed on you. You lift your hand to admire it and it flies around your head before flying away, at the same time the raven flies off with it.

As your brain tries to comprehend the unmistakeable signs that the pagan gods are answering your prayers, you hear a rumble of thunder. The skies turn grey within a matter of seconds before rain suddenly begins to pour down. You stand and let out a laugh of disbelief as you spread your arms wide and look to the sky as you let out a heavy breath of relief. The rain washed over your entire being, cleansing you of your troubles. It felt like a different kind of baptism, a rebirth.

“(y/n)?” You hear Ragnar call from behind you.

You turn to him with a wide smile on your face. He noted how beautiful you were when you smiled like that, he realized he had never seen more than a faint one cross your lips.

“Are you alright?” He smiles back at you. “We should head back. Thor’s wrath may become brutal soon if we remain all the way out here.”

“No, he is speaking to me.” You smile, making Ragnar’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Your gods… the gods…” You continue. “They answered my prayers…”

“So, suddenly you believe in our gods now?” He teases. “And what of your god?”

“The Christian god has never answered my prayers. Never even given a small sign he is with me.” You explain. “I prayed to Odin, and a raven appeared… Freyja, a white butterfly landed on my hand the same moment… and Thor…” You gesture to the skies the rain continues to pour down from.

You walk closer to Ragnar.

“I want to teach me your ways…” You say lowly.

“All of our ways?” He smirks, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“All of your ways…” You say as you move even closer until your noses brush.

He traces his finger up your neck, making you shiver. His finger continues to move along your jaw before he gently lifts your chin, making your eyes meet his piercing blue ones. “Are you sure about that?” He says with his classic devilish smirk.

Instead of responding you bring your lips to his, which was answer enough. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back hungrily, a small growl escaping him. He cups your cheeks as the rain pours down on you both, the kiss is wet and passionate. His tongue demands entrance to your mouth and you let him take the lead, following along a little awkwardly. His hands move from your face down to your hips as he pulls you against him. The hardness pushing against your stomach makes you gasp.

“Do you wish to return to the house…” Ragnar whispers, against your lips before kissing you again.

“No… I want you to take me right here… under the eyes of Thor and all the gods watching over us…” You whisper back, bringing your hand to his cheek.

Your words light a fire in Ragnar as your eyes meet in an intense gaze. He reaches out and begins to slowly pull at the strings of your dress. His eyes watch yours carefully, as if daring you to stop him. You would do no such thing. Once the ties were loose you let him pull the dress off your shoulders, completely exposing your breasts. They instantly perk up in the cold chill of the rain, droplets of water falling down your skin. A moan escapes you as he leans down and takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nipple. Your entire body felt aflame. You welcomed every cold raindrop that touches your heated skin.

His sinful tongue continues to explore down your stomach until he’s on his knees in front of you. You look down at him with lust filled eyes as pulls down the skirts of your dress, leaving you completely bare for him. His gaze meets yours as he squeezes your thighs hard and gives you a smirk.

“Ragnar what are you-“

Your words are cut off when his tongue licks your most intimate area. You gasp and whine as he begins to messily eat you. Your legs shake and wobble as you try to hold onto his shoulders.

“Ragnar I can’t…” You breathe.

He could sense you were barely able to hold yourself up. In one swift movement he hooks your legs over his shoulders and you yelp as he lifts you up. His tongue does not stop working at your bundle of nerves as he walks you over to a tree. You lean your back against the rough bark. The feeling of him was so overwhelming that you hardly felt the tree scratching at your skin. He ate you ravenously like a man starved. Your hands quickly find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, he grunts against you in response. You pant as you look up to the grey rainy skies, the entire moment felt like a dream. A knot begins to tighten in your stomach and your vision starts to blur. Ragnar dips his tongue into your entrance and that is your undoing. You scream out as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head. You would be worried about hurting him but you could swear you felt him grinning against you as his tongue works you through your orgasm.

Ragnar carefully lowers you back to the ground, you feel both your body and your mind come back down to earth. You shiver as he lays you down on the cold wet ground. He removes his now soaked shirt before climbing over you and capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, you moan at the taste yourself as your tongues dance together.

He stands again to quickly remove his pants, your eyes widen at his length before he climbs back on top of you.

“Are you certain?” Ragnar asks lowly, noticing your worried expression.

“Yes but… I don’t think it will fit…” You whisper shyly.

He gives a cocky chuckle before he begins kissing on your neck.

“It will.” He mumbles against your skin.

You feel him rub his length against your core making you whine and buck your hips in response.

“So eager.” He smirks.

He slowly begins pushing in making you grimace in pain. You instantly question his reassurance that it will fit.

“Shh,” Ragnar tries to soothe you.

His lips move back to your neck kissing, sucking and biting, trying his best to distract you from the pain. You moan at the feeling before he pushes right through the barrier and you gasp loudly. Ragnar groans loudly as he feels you squeezing tightly around him like a vice. You pant heavily with tears in your eyes as you adjust to his size. He does not move until you’re ready, then he starts pushing in and out slowly. The pain soon fades and you wrap your legs around him, forcing him deeper into you.

“Please…” You breathe out.

“Please what?” Ragnar whispers directly in your ear, making you shudder.

“More…”

“More what?” He teases you.

“Ragnar, please.�� You groan in frustration. “Faster. Harder. Give me more.”

He smirks before finally obliging your wishes and starts pounding into you relentlessly. You quickly begin to see stars as your second orgasm washes over you and you cry out his name. Ragnar slows his pace once you have hit your peak.

“So this is…” You pant. “This is how Vikings… fuck?”

“We fuck however we want to.” He says as he kisses your neck, still hard inside you. “Viking women enjoy riding their men like wild horses.” He mumbles against your skin, like a challenge.

“Then I shall do that…” You say as you sit up and force Ragnar onto his back.

Ragnar’s eyes widen as you move to straddle him.

“I shall ride you like a wild horse.” You look down and meet his eyes, fire in your eyes and a devilish smirk on your lips. “I shall fuck you like a true Viking woman.”

He does not take his eyes off you for one second as you start to sink back down onto his cock, causing your mouth to drop at the feeling. Being new to all of this, you awkwardly try to bounce up and down until Ragnar grips your hips and guides you to move them back and forth.

“Oh…” You moan, eyes rolling back.

You follow his direction and rock your hips back and forth, increasing the speed. The position sends tingles through your entire body. Ragnar watches you in amazement, taking in every inch of your wet naked body as your beautiful moans ring in his ears. His hands move from your hips to grab your breasts and you ride him harder in approval, earning a groan from him.

You still felt like you were dreaming. You had lived such a strict sheltered life and felt so trapped for so long… But as the grey clouds swirl above you and the rain pours down over your shamelessly naked body, as you ride this god of a man who made your entire body vibrate with life, as you cried out loud enough for the gods to hear, as your prayers had finally been answered and your path now clear, as you feel your very souls connect. For the first time in your entire life… you felt free.

Your peak hits you even more intense than any time before, zings of pleasure radiate throughout your entire being. You felt yourself cry out Ragnar’s name but the sudden crack of lightning in the distance completely drowned out the sound. Your eyes shot open and you caught a glimpse of the fast line of lighting across the mountains at the same moment you came. Ragnar digs his fingers hard into your hips as he finds his own release. A loud rumble of thunder booms as he chokes out a moan. In that moment you felt so tremendously powerful, like a you were a god and goddess.

As you come down from your high the rain suddenly becomes much lighter. Panting, you look down at Ragnar who’s grinning smugly up at you. You give him a smirk back before leaning down and capturing his lips in a hungy kiss, your tongue instantly demands entrance and Ragnar happily obliges, moving his hand to your cheek as he eagerly kisses you back.

You roll off of him onto the wet grass, the rain now stopping completely. You felt so wild and free you that had no care about the mud that had gotten all over you.

“So…” Ragnar huffs, still catching his breath. “You really believe in our gods now?”

“They answered my prayers…” You respond, also panting. “It is hard to deny their existence after all of that.”

Ragnar just grins at you.

“We should get cleaned up.” He says as he stands, lending a hand to help you up.

As you stand he pulls you into a quick passionate kiss.

“Welcome to my world, (y/n).” Ragnar smiles.

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