#rollo lothbrok imagine

[gratelove]

Okay yall, I’m a little late to the party, but Rollo Lothbrok🫣 I’m only on season 3 of Vikings and I’m officially in love with the beauty of this man. Be prepared for more Vikings fics🤤 Also, this is a LONG fic, but it’s worth it!🥹

Bridge Between Worlds

Rollo Lothbrok x Reader

In a marriage arranged for political alliance, you, a Christian princess, and the Viking warrior Rollo find yourselves unexpectedly drawn together, bridging the divide between your faiths, cultures, and hearts.

Warnings: smut, fluff, struggles with faith, religion, drinking, cursing

The grand hall fell silent as your father’s voice rang out, echoing through the stone walls. His words seemed to linger in the air, heavy with purpose, like a chain slipping over your wrists. “The Northmen have proposed an alliance, my daughter,” he said, his gaze steady as he looked at you. “King Ragnar has offered his brother, Rollo Lothbrok, to wed you. This marriage will bring peace to our lands and protection from their raids.”

The room seemed to close in, the walls pressing down as you struggled to breathe. Marry a Northman? The very thought filled you with dread. You’d heard tales of these people—warriors who worshipped strange gods, men who swept through villages like storms, leaving only ruin in their wake. And now, to bind yourself to one of them, to Rollo Lothbrok of all people… It was unthinkable.

“But, Father,” you protested, your voice wavering. “Surely, there must be another way to secure peace. A treaty, a negotiation—anything but marriage.”

Your father’s gaze softened, but his voice held the iron weight of duty. “This is the only way, my daughter. We need this alliance. You have always known that your marriage would serve a greater purpose, and now that purpose is upon us.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat. Your life had been a careful sequence of preparations for this role, every lesson, every sermon instilling in you the virtue of self-sacrifice. You’d known that one day your life would be bound to someone chosen for you, but you had always imagined it would be to a noble from a nearby kingdom, someone who shared your faith, your values. Not to a pagan warrior from a distant, brutal land. A beast more than a man.

And yet, you had no choice. The Northmen’s proposal had been clear, and your father had already accepted it. The fate you had so long been prepared for was now sealed.

***

The day of your wedding dawned, cloaked in an eerie stillness. The grand church where you were to wed Rollo was adorned with flowers and candles, symbols of a sacred union. You wore a gown of fine lace, your veil trailing behind you like a whisper of grace. You felt numb, as if moving through a dream—or a nightmare—waiting for the moment to be over, waiting for the reality of it to settle.

Rollo stood at the altar, a tall, imposing figure, his features set in a mask of silent defiance. He looked as out of place as you felt, his gaze hard and unyielding, his mouth a tight line. When he glanced your way, his eyes were unreadable, a mixture of resentment and resignation. It was clear that he, too, had little desire for this union.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice a steady drone of Latin prayers. You barely heard the words, your mind elsewhere, tangled in memories of home, family, the life you were leaving behind. Each phrase, each gesture, seemed hollow, an imitation of the wedding you’d once imagined as a child. This was supposed to be a moment of joy, of love. But there was no warmth here, only the cold formality of duty.

When the priest instructed Rollo to take your hand, he did so without meeting your gaze, his grip firm but impersonal. His hands were rough, scarred from battle, the hands of a man who had known violence more than tenderness. You felt the weight of his touch, solid and unyielding, a reminder that you were bound now to this stranger.

The priest continued, his voice a solemn echo as he blessed your union, but you could see the slight hesitation in his eyes. This marriage between a Christian princess and a heathen warrior defied every tradition, every vow that was meant to sanctify it. And yet, the ceremony proceeded, binding you together in the eyes of your God and your people.

When the vows were exchanged, Rollo spoke the words in a language foreign to him, his voice thick with an accent that turned each promise into something distant, almost detached. You struggled to keep your voice steady as you repeated your own vows, feeling as though you were surrendering more than your hand. You were giving up your life, your dreams, to a man who would never understand you, nor you him.

As the ceremony ended, the church fell silent, a strange, somber quiet lingering between you and Rollo. The people gathered offered their restrained applause, their faces a mixture of relief and curiosity. To them, this was a strategic victory, a bridge between two worlds, but to you and Rollo, it was a prison.

You stole a glance at him, trying to discern any hint of emotion in his eyes. But his face remained a stoic mask, unreadable and distant, as if he, too, were waiting for this day to be over.

That night, as the festivities continued, you and Rollo exchanged only the briefest of nods, acknowledging each other out of obligation more than anything else. You sat at opposite ends of the grand table, separated by language, by faith, by the vast chasm of your different worlds.

And so, as the night grew darker, you resigned yourself to this new life, feeling like a stranger in your own skin. Bound by vows spoken in words that felt foreign, you wondered if you would ever find warmth in the cold, unyielding presence of the man you now called your husband—or if this marriage would remain as empty and silent as the vows you had uttered in that grand, hollow church.

***

The sea air of Kattegat was colder than anything you’d known back home. The winds held a bite, reminding you each day that you were far from the familiar warmth of your homeland. It had been a month since you’d arrived, a month of silent days and sleepless nights in a place that felt like another world. Though married, you and Rollo had barely exchanged a glance since arriving, your only link to understanding his world was the quiet monk Athelstan, who patiently taught you Norse.

Days passed in strange routine. The Northmen spoke a language rough and wild, each word sounding like thunder to your ears. But Athelstan was a skilled teacher, and over time, the foreign words began to settle into your mind. Slowly, painstakingly, you came to understand snippets of conversation, whispers of words. And though you’d never spoken to him directly, you felt Rollo’s presence more keenly than anyone else’s.

Beyond learning their language. You learned of their gods.. gods that were not so different from the one you knew to be true. In the quiet moments of your days in Kattegat, when the biting northern winds were at rest and the village hummed with the peaceful rhythm of daily life, you found yourself questioning truths you had once accepted without hesitation. This land was raw, its people fierce, yet you had begun to notice an undeniable beauty here. And with it came questions—questions that took root deep within your heart, challenging the very foundations of your beliefs.

At first, the differences between you and these people had seemed insurmountable. Their rituals, their prayers to unseen gods of thunder, fertility, the sea, and the harvest—all of it seemed like blasphemy to your ears. Yet, as the days turned to weeks, you saw their reverence, how their lives were woven with purpose and respect for the land, for each other, and for forces they couldn’t see but trusted in deeply.

They worship their gods as we worship ours, you thought one day, watching as a woman carved runes into a wooden charm meant to protect her family. They seek strength, guidance, blessings. Are they so different from us?

The question unsettled you, and you struggled against it, recalling sermons from your homeland, the teachings that painted pagans as savages, their gods as dark spirits. But there was light in these people, too, wasn’t there? A unity, a sense of duty, and a love for family that you had always been taught were the virtues of your own faith.

Your gaze often drifted to Athelstan, your quiet teacher and guide in this foreign world, who had once been a Christian monk but had found himself torn between the faith of his past and the gods of the North. You wondered if he felt the same turmoil you did. Perhaps he, too, had wrestled with questions of what was true and what had been constructed by the hands and minds of men. After all, Athelstan had once told you that the Vikings’ gods had existed long before Christ had walked the earth.

This thought lodged in your mind, growing roots you couldn’t shake. Could it be possible, you wondered late one night, lying awake in the cold silence of your home, that the stories of my faith were born from theirs?

You thought of the tales you’d been told in church, stories of miracles, sacrifices, and holy men who could summon storms, heal the sick, or commune with higher beings. But here, you had seen similar stories told around the fires in the evenings—stories of gods who controlled the weather, who guided their people, who demanded sacrifices to keep balance in the world. You watched the children listen with wide eyes, just as you once had, their awe and reverence echoing your own memories of kneeling in a grand church, captivated by stories of your God.

And the symbols—they weren’t as different as you’d once thought. The hammer of Thor, which hung on a leather cord around the neck of nearly every warrior, wasn’t so unlike the cross worn by priests and devout nobles back home. Both symbols represented strength, protection, a hope that something greater watched over you.

What if, you wondered, heart thundering with the weight of the thought, these people had seen the same truths but woven them differently? What if, in some ancient past, we had all followed the same gods, the same ways, and only time had divided us?

It was a question you dared not voice, even to Athelstan. But the idea stirred something within you, something that frightened and intrigued you all at once. You felt the weight of the cross you still wore around your neck, a symbol of your devotion, yet here, it felt somehow…lonelier than before. Was it possible that your understanding of the divine had been limited by the walls of a church, by teachings passed down without question?

Each day you rose and went about your new duties, the questions circling in your mind like a hawk over the fields. Each time you watched Rollo go to the sacred woods or pour mead onto the earth in an offering, you felt a strange pull, a whisper in your heart that perhaps the world was larger and more mysterious than you had ever allowed yourself to believe.

One night, as you lay beneath the northern stars, you found yourself praying, not just to your God but to whatever forces might hear you. A strange peace settled over you then, as if your heart had found a rhythm that it had been seeking all along, something beyond names and symbols—a sense of connection to the world around you, to the mysteries and wonders that spanned both your people and his.

For the first time, you felt that perhaps there was more than one way to honor the divine, more than one truth, and that perhaps, in marrying Rollo, you had not been lost to a foreign faith but rather drawn closer to understanding the many ways humanity sought to make sense of this world and the next.

***

One evening, after a long day of lessons, you returned to your new home, hoping for the comfort of a bath to soothe your weary body and mind. You went to the small, private bathing room, where a tub of steaming water awaited. But as you reached to untie your dress, you found yourself struggling, your hands fumbling clumsily over the stubborn knots at your back. Frustration welled up, and you cursed softly under your breath, wishing for just one familiar comfort in this strange, foreign life.

Suddenly, a presence loomed behind you, close enough that you could feel his warmth. You froze as a large, rough hand gently touched your shoulder.

“Let me,” came the deep voice, and you knew instantly it was Rollo. His voice was as rough as the northern winds, yet softer than you’d ever heard it, as if afraid to shatter the silence that had always lain between you.

You held your breath as he deftly began to untie the laces, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked through the knots with ease. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, his closeness overwhelming, every brush of his fingers against your back sending sparks down your spine.

Once he had loosened the dress, he lingered, his hands resting against the fabric at your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat quicken, and with a shaky breath, you finally turned to look at him. His intense blue eyes met yours, filled with an unreadable depth.

“Thank you,” you murmured in Norse, proud yet hesitant as you stumbled over the unfamiliar sounds.

His lips curved, just barely, in something close to a smile. “You’ve learned our language well,” he replied, his voice low. “I am…impressed.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked down. “I wanted to understand. To not feel like a stranger here.” There was a long moment of silence before you finally spoke the question you had been wondering since you arrived. “Will we have a pagan wedding?”

Rollo looked at you with confusion. “We already had a wedding.”

“Yes, but that was a Christian wedding. Our marriage is not recognized in the eyes of your gods, therefore… we are not truly married. Not in the eyes of you or your people.” You held up your, now falling, dress as it slumped around your shoulders.

“Is that what you want? For us to not truly be married?” You hadn’t realized how difficult the answer to that question would be. You would have assumed you would have immediately said yes, but now, in this moment… you’re not so sure.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? You do not love me.” Rollo scoffed at your words.

“As you do not love me, Princess.”

“Yes, but I love no one. You do love someone, it’s just not me.” Rollo’s eyes widened at your words and he came so close to you, you could feel his breath on your cheeks.

“What do you know of who I love?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, realizing you had hit a sensitive spot.

“I know more than you think, husband. I’m not some stupid and scared girl. The whole month I’ve been here, I’ve been quiet and observant.” Rollo rolled his eyes, taking a few steps back.

“And what is it that you have observed?” You nodded, holding your chin high in retort to his evident doubt.

“I’ve noticed that you are angry. At both yourself and your brother. You’re jealous of him. You feel you are less than and this makes you infuriated. I know you’re in love with Lagertha, but she has never shared that feeling. Though I never knew Siggy, I see the way you act when people talk about her. You loved her, but not in the way you love Lagertha. For this you carry guilt and it fuels your self hate. Did I observe correctly?” Rollo’s expression was one of frustration and astonishment.

“You’ve been busy, Princess. Do you agree with your observations? Am I less than Ragnar?” His question took you by surprise, but didn’t at the same time. The idea that he cares for your opinion is shocking, but not that he needs the validation.

“The truth?” He nods in response. “I think you are a great man. I think you’re honorable and kind. You’ve never forced yourself on me when you could have. You treat me well when you do not have to. As much as you are jealous of your brother, I truly believe that you love him and would not hurt him. You are an honorable warrior, which from my understanding is one of the things you Northmen pride yourselves on. Why you do not see yourself as such, I dont understand. Even my people back home knew your name, Rollo. The Bear, they called you.” A smile spread on his face at the name, and you couldn’t help the one that found yours. “I am proud to be the wife of a man with such high honor.” Rollo was silent for what felt like eternity, just staring at you. You began to feel self conscious, pulling your falling dress as high as you could, and dipped your head to hide your face. “Why are you just staring at me?”

“I suppose I’m surprised. You do not talk to me the entirety of our marriage and the first time you open your mouth you have insulted me and spoken so highly of me in one sitting. I thought you hated this marriage,” he said, each word measured. “I thought you hated…me.”

You looked up, startled by the honesty in his gaze. This was the first real conversation you’d had, the first true exchange, and it struck you how different he seemed now than the man you’d first met. Gone was the stoic warrior, replaced by a man with insecurities, a man who, perhaps, felt as much a stranger to you as you did to him.

“It was never hate,” you whispered, choosing your words carefully. “Fear, maybe. But not hate.”

His hand lifted, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair as if testing the boundaries of this new understanding between you. “You are braver than you think,” he murmured, his voice like a quiet promise. “More brave than I.”

You swallowed, your heart thundering in your chest. “No, Rollo. Not braver than you.” He smiled, his hand slipping from your cheek to your neck.

“You speak your opinion where I cannot. That’s much braver than facing battle.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood as his hand danced from your neck to your exposed shoulder.

“Maybe we are just brave in different ways. Maybe we can teach each other.” He stepped closer, his fingers curling around the loose neckline of your dress.

“You want to learn to fight?” You shrugged, a smile finding your lips.

“If I am to be a Northeman’s wife, I should learn their ways, no? You teach me the skills of battle and I shall teach you the skills of wit.” He began to pull the fabric of your dress down and you clutched it. He stopped, his eyes meeting yours. “Rollo, I’m…” you realized you did not know what the word was in their language. You searched your mind for it.

“You’re what?” You took a deep breath, embarrassed to have to explain.

“I’ve never been with a man. I don’t know the word in your language.” Rollo chuckled, grabbing your small hand that was holding your dress up.

“Ah, virgin,” he said, squeezing your hand, as if to ask if he could remove your clothes.

“Virgin,” you repeat and he nods.

“Yes, Princess. You are my wife. Should we not bed at least once during our marriage?” You felt your cheeks getting hotter as you finally succumbed to him. Your hand released and your dress fell, pooling at your feet. Your hands covered your breasts, feeling too exposed. His large, scarred, hands clasped your wrists lightly, pulling them down to your sides. “There is no need to hide from me, my wife.” His calloused fingers ran down your exposed chest, to your stomach, stopping at your hip. Goosebumps lit ablaze across your whole body. “It is as if you were carved by the gods.” You giggled as he pulled you close, your bare chest now flush with his.

“As were you, Rollo.” Your palms lay against his chest.

“My gods or yours,” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I haven’t decided yet, but being here… I do question if my god is even real,” you say honestly.

“Are we turning you into a pagan,” you laugh, shrugging.

“I’m starting to think it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” With that, his lips are against yours, hot and wanting. You moaned into his mouth, entranced by how warm he is, how his beard tickled your cheeks with each synchronized movement of your lips. His hands gripped your hips, picking you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips never leaving one another. He walked you to the bed, gently laying you down.

He got off the bed, standing at the edge. You watched as he undid his pants. His eyes never leaving yours as he moved slowly to untie the laces. He is a man of beauty. Perfectly chiseled and large. His long hair flows down his chest and his tattoos perfectly caress his skin.

“After tonight, we will be officially married in the eyes of your god, no?” You peeled your eyes away from admiring his body to meet his gaze.

“Yes. We never… I don’t know the word. To make a marriage official, the man and wife must lie together.” He pulled his pants down, revealing himself to you fully, as you are to him. You sucked in a breath, an undeniable feeling of want and nervousness filling you.

“Do you want to lie with me? To truly be husband and wife?” He ran his finger along your collarbone, down to your nipple. He circled it lightly and you couldn’t help the moan that came with it. He smiled, licking his lips. You grabbed his wrist, using it to pull yourself to your knees. You are now face to face with him at the edge of the bed. You grabbed his other wrist, placing both palms on your breasts.

“I want you. Just- just be gentle, okay?” He kissed your cheek as his hands squeezed your chest.

“Northmen are not gentle. We do not fuck gently.” He kissed your neck.

“As much as I want you to fuck me like a Northman, I’ve been told your first time hurts.” You looked down at his already hard cock, feeling yourself getting more nervous. “And you are quite large.” This made Rollo laugh as he continued to trail kisses across your neck and chest.

“Don’t worry, Princess. Me and my large cock will be gentle.” You giggled and slapped his chest, making him laugh again. He laid you back down on the fur covered bed, climbing on top of you. You took in a deep breath as he spread your legs. “Don’t be nervous, my beautiful wife.” The words made butterflies erupt in your chest. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, easing the tightening in your stomach. He grabbed your hands, holding them above your head. He continued to leave gentle kisses as he slowly started to enter you. You squeezed his hands so hard you’re sure your knuckles were white as he pushed farther inside you. He is extremely large and you wince in pain from you being stretched open.

“Rollo,” you whined and he stopped, meeting your gaze. You gave yourself a minute to adjust, then nodded your head. He continued pushing in further until he was finally fully in you. He pulled out, then slowly thrusted back in. His movements were slow and gentle and eventually the pain turned into pleasure. Pleasure like you’ve never experienced. Your head tipped back and your mouth fell open, letting out a moan.

“Does it feel good, Princess?” His hot breath hit your neck as he whispered in your ear and it lit something wild in you.

“Go faster,” you moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him more access. You felt him push in deeper as he picked up his pace. He was hitting deeper and deeper inside you with each thrust and your eyes fluttered shut at the intense pleasure.

“You look so beautiful.” You opened your eyes to see he is staring at you, drinking in your appearance. Staring into his blue eyes makes all the sensations better. He rested his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help but fall in love with the way he is staring at you as he thrusts harder and deeper inside you. The room is filled with each other’s moans and gasps. You feel yourself reaching a point of release and you can tell he’s about to hit his too. He kissed you passionately as his thrusts become sloppier. You moaned into his mouth as a wave a euphoria rushed over you and your legs shake from utter pleasure. You feel him release inside you and he rides out his high with a few more thrusts.

He laid next to you on the bed and you rolled over to lay your head on his chest. His heart is beating fast and his breaths are short. You ran your fingers up and down his abdomen as you both fall into a comfortable silence. You’re not sure where you find your confidence, but the words that finally come out of your mouth surprise not only you, but Rollo.

“I do not love you, Rollo Lothbrok. But, I can see my falling in love with you.” You meet his shocked expression, but it eventually turns soft.

“Goodnight, my beautiful wife.”

***

The night air of Kattegat was alive with laughter and song, the flickering torchlight casting a warm glow over the village as the Vikings celebrated with wild abandon. Mead flowed like rivers, horns clashing in toasts to the gods, to family, to life itself. You felt the familiar warmth of the drink pulse through you, each sip lighting your blood with a fire you hadn’t known before coming to this land. Tonight, you danced without restraint, twirling with the crowd in the great hall, your feet moving with the beat of the drums, the earth beneath you thrumming with life.

You had grown accustomed to the spirit of Viking celebrations, their passion for life something you had come to appreciate. Though you were not of their faith, their customs, or their world, the sense of freedom here was intoxicating, a heady contrast to the strict life you had known. Tonight, you felt a part of it all. For the first time, you truly felt like you belonged.

The world around you was a blur of laughter, music, and flickering torchlight. You spun and swayed, your feet carrying you to the beat of the drums, your heart pounding with the thrill of freedom, of finally feeling as though you belonged here in Kattegat. The mead warmed your blood, filling you with a giddy lightness that melted away your reservations. This was a new side of you, one that you hadn’t known before—a part of you that had found joy in this wild land, surrounded by people who embraced life as fiercely as they embraced battle.

As you moved, you caught sight of Rollo, standing on the edge of the crowd, watching you. His intense gaze was steady, following your every movement. His face, usually hardened by shadows and silent restraint, now held something softer, almost tender. You felt his stare like a touch, tracing over you, lingering with an appreciation that made your pulse quicken. You and Rollo had not been able to go a few hours without being intimate since your first time.

Without thinking, you met his eyes and smiled, your feet carrying you closer. He didn’t move, his stare unwavering, as if transfixed. The other dancers melted away, leaving only him in your focus, your heart pounding louder than the drums. Before you could second-guess yourself, you held out your hand, a silent invitation, your eyes daring him to join you.

For a moment, Rollo hesitated, his usual guarded expression flickering with uncertainty. But then, slowly, he reached out, his large hand enveloping yours, and you pulled him into the crowd. He stumbled slightly, unused to this kind of playfulness, but his eyes remained locked on yours, an amused glint sparking there as he let you lead.

You laughed, feeling as though the walls between you and this man, the ones that both had been breaking down slowly, were finally crumbling completely. You pressed his hand to your waist, guiding him to follow your movements, his body close to yours as the drums echoed in the night. Though he towered over you, his presence solid and intense, you felt a softness in the way he held you, his grip firm but gentle.

“Are you sure you know how to dance, warrior?” you teased, your voice light and filled with the boldness that only mead could bring.

He huffed, a smirk breaking across his face. “Dancing is not the way of a Viking. At least not the way you dance, Princess,” he replied, his voice deep, but his eyes sparkled with unspoken laughter. “But for you… I will try.”

The two of you moved together, your laughter mingling as you guided him through each step, each sway. His movements were unpracticed, slightly stiff, yet he relaxed with every beat of the drum, letting himself be drawn into your rhythm. It was as if the crowd, the village, the night itself faded, leaving only the two of you bound in this moment, where titles and gods and duty did not matter.

You felt his hand tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. The playful smiles faded, and in their place, a deeper warmth simmered between you, something vulnerable and unspoken.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music, his gaze tracing your face as if memorizing every detail. “So Free. So Happy.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing over his hand. “I feel alive here, Rollo,” you whispered.

His thumb gently stroked your cheek, a tenderness in his touch that you’ve grown accustomed to since the night you first made love four months ago. “Then perhaps,” he said, his voice rough, “this land, this life, is more yours than you thought.”

You felt a swell of warmth in your chest, a feeling that chased away the last remnants of doubt. Here, with him, in this wild, untamed place, you had found a part of yourself you never knew was there—a part that yearned for freedom, for belonging, for love.

The drums beat on, but the world around you was still, your gaze locked with his, the silent understanding between you deepening. And as he lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his breath warm against your skin, you realized that the music had stopped. Everyone around you had gone quiet. You and Rollo broke contact to see the cause of it. Walking through the great hall doors was Athelstan. Bjorn had told you both that the monk had thrown his sacred arm ring into the fjord.

Rollo’s voice thundered through the crowd. “Athelstan,” he roared, his voice laced with anger.

The crowd quieted, all eyes turning to the monk-turned-Viking who had lived with one foot in both worlds. Rollo stormed toward him, his face twisted with rage, and gripped Athelstan’s wrist, holding it up for all to see. “Look at this man!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the night. “Where is your sacred ring, Athelstan? I was told you through your ring, the one our king, Ragnar, gave you into the fjord!”

You felt the blood drain from your face as you watched, horrified by Rollo’s fury. You had always known Athelstan was a man of two worlds, like yourself—caught between his old faith and the ways of the Northmen. A pang of sympathy tore through you, a deep understanding of the pain and doubt he must have felt to make such a decision.

Athelstan’s eyes darted toward the crowd. “You have betrayed the gods who welcomed you,” Rollo growled. “You stand here, pretending to honor both, but now we see who you truly are.”

Ragnar pushed through the crowd and wrapped an arm around Athelstan’s shoulder. He dragged him away from the crowd, into a back room, whispering something in his ear.

The celebration resumed, though it was subdued, the laughter tinged with unease. You lingered near the fire, lost in thought, watching as Rollo stalked away, his jaw tight with anger. Before you knew it, you followed him, the words you’d held back now bubbling to the surface.

When you both arrived at your shared home, you closed the door behind you, crossing your arms as you gathered the courage to speak. “Why are you so angry at Athelstan?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve always known he was torn between both faiths, just as I am. Why is it different now?”

Rollo turned, his face dark and unreadable in the dim light. “You don’t understand,” he replied coldly. “Athelstan has cast aside his ring. He has thrown it away, shown us he has no loyalty to anything but his Christian god. He cannot be trusted.”

“Cannot be trusted?” you echoed, frustration flaring in your chest. “Athelstan has always been loyal to you, to your brother, to your people. His struggle with faith does not make him any less trustworthy.”

Rollo’s gaze hardened. “He is weak. He cannot choose between one god or another, and now I see he tried to be something he’s not. He insulted the gods by pretending to be one of us.”

“But you do not see it, Rollo,” you pressed, your voice trembling with a blend of anger and desperation. “I see myself in him. I, too, am torn between worlds—between my God and your gods, between my homeland and yours. Am I a betrayer because I am still finding my way?”

Rollo’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he just clenched his fists, his voice low and fierce. “You must choose as well. You cannot love both. You cannot be a Christian and a Viking.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of sadness as you looked into his eyes. “Athelstan was struggling, just as I am. Faith is not a simple choice, Rollo. It’s complicated, and sometimes it takes time to understand what it truly means. He was searching for where he belongs, and he has found it. This does not mean he cannot love your people… just as I love you.”

Rollo’s shoulders tensed, his eyes going wide. It’s the first time you had said it. Neither of you had ever spoken those words. You weren’t even sure if Rollo loved you. You felt embarrassment and anger at his lack of words.

“Is this why we have not had a Viking wedding? Because you feel I have not chosen your gods?” You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you fought to hold them back.

“If you do not choose our gods, we will never be in Valhalla together.” You scoffed, wiping a tear that slid down your cheek.

“Why does it matter if I end up in Valhalla or Heaven? You clearly do not love me back, so why do you care which afterlife I spend my days?” You began to turn away from him, but he grabbed you wrist, pulling you into his chest. His hand met your cheek, wiping away one of your tears.

“I do love you. But everyone I have ever loved either died or did not love me back.” You met his gaze and your heart hurt at the sight of tears in his eyes.

“Rollo, everyone dies. Just because the people around you die, does not mean you’re the cause of it. You cannot be afraid of death. You, more than anyone, know that. You Northmen do not fear death.”

“It is not death that I fear. What I fear is loving a woman who will not join me in Valhalla. It is not being able to spend eternity with you.” You stood on your toes to reach his lips. You gave him a soft kiss, then pulled away to meet his sadden gaze.

“I love you and I would do anything to spend eternity with you. We were fated to be together, Rollo. I can feel it. No matter what god willed it to be.” He looked down at you, his expression softening further, the anger that had once filled his gaze replaced by something warmer, deeper. In that moment, you felt that perhaps, just as Athelstan was searching, you and Rollo were finding something—a bridge between worlds, a space where faith, love, and understanding could coexist, no matter how different they seemed.

“We were fated to be together.” He pulled you as close as he could, kissing you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing taller to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you were both out of breath.

“Does this mean we will have a wedding?” He let out a deep chuckle, nodding.

“Yes, of course we will.” A smile spread across your face.

“Good, because I wouldn’t want our child to be born without married parents.” You grabbed his hand, resting it on your belly. His face lit with excitement and he let out a laugh.

“You’re… you’re with child?” You nodded, tears falling freely to see the joy that found his rough and beautiful face. He picked up you, twirling you around. You let out a laugh as he set you down, kissing you.

You nodded, unable to stop smiling. “Yes, Rollo. You’re going to be a father.”

He let out a shout of pure happiness, his arms wrapping around you again, holding you tight as if he were afraid you might disappear. His hand returned to your stomach, resting there reverently, his thumb brushing over the place where new life grew.

“I cannot believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining. “You… you have given me more than I ever thought possible.”

The look in his eyes was raw, filled with joy, wonder, and a fierce love that made your heart swell. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally, his lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach.

When he pulled back, he grinned down at you, his expression so soft, so full of love that it nearly took your breath away. “You have given me a family,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I will protect you both. I will give you everything I am, everything I have. I swear it.”

The drums beat on around you, the celebration continuing in the background, but in that moment, the world felt like it held only the two of you, wrapped in a love you hadn’t dared dream of, a love that had grown against all odds.

And as you stood there, feeling the warmth of his hand on your stomach, you knew that whatever came next, you and Rollo would face it together—with joy, with strength, and with a love that was stronger than any doubt, any fear, any past that had once divided you.

[ryuzakemo128]

Vikings Writing Prompts

Trigger Warning:

Mention of Death, fighting, miscarriages, suicide.

If anything mentioned above triggers you. Please remove yourself and continue with your day. Your mental health is just as important as your physical health. Vice versa, as the mind can affect the body in equal measure.

Prompts for either imagines, headcanons, one-shots, anything you possibly desire. As long as it is clearly stated as to what character you want it written for. Otherwise I will not be able to satisfy the particular itch you might or might not want itched and scratched.

Characters from the Vikings Show that I am willing to write for as follows:

Male Characters

Rollo Lothbrok

Ívar Ragnarsson

Björn Ragnarsson

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Athelstan

Hálfdanr Hálfdansson

Haraldr Hálfdansson

Female Characters:

Lagertha Lothbrok

Aslaug Sigurdsdottir

Personal Note: I would also preface that I will not write things that trigger me. Things like Cheating and Affairs. At least not in incredible detail as it will harm and hurt my mental health in the long run. And if you respect my mental health, you will respect my personal boundaries as well.

If you would like to peruse my previous works in the past feel free to do so. I will not prevent nor shame those who would want to read them.

Here is a link to two masterlists that contain them.

Masterlist 01 / Masterlist 02

Prompts

Listed below are prompts to choose from if you want to make a specific request for a specific character. First list being SFW and the second one being NSFW underneath the cut.

SFW - Dialogue Prompts

"Whatever souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. As much you might dispute that fact."

"You could just tell me things instead of insinuating them. Communication is important."

"Let me eat my feelings in peace and quiet. Otherwise we are going to have many, many, many problems."

"I know I can't go I'm the one getting nearly all the time."

"I don't trust anyone who would place value of one child above another. Regardless of what someone else may or may not have said."

"For a mother you play favourites quite a bit."

"Depends on what you consider to be fair."

"Aim better! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"

"You are not my problem. You are theirs. I plan to keep it that way. So neither begging nor pleading to me will not work."

Canon Character x OC/ Reader - Dialogue Prompts

"I am well enough to fight. I am well enough to move around do things myself. Do not coddle me as I were a child and I will not do the same to you."

"I was in exile, I did not abandon anybody, least of all my brother."

"I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you."

NSFW - Dialogue Prompts

[TBD]

Vikings Headcanons - Link

Food for the heart and soul - Halfdan the Black x Female Reader - Link

Tarnished and Unveiled Intentions - Bjorn Ironside x reader - Link

Life After Death - Bjorn Ironside x female reader - Link

[at1nys-blog]

Masterlist

【Ragnar Lothbrok】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Lagertha】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Björn Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Floki&Helga】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Athlestan】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Rollo】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Siggy】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Aslaugh】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Ubbe Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Hvitserk Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ My own Valkyrja

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ more to come

【Sigurd Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Ivar Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Halfdan the black】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Harald Finehair】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Torvi】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Heahmund】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Gunnhild】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Kalf】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Kjetill Flatnose】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Yidu】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings (TV) Masterlist

my requests for vikings are currently partially OPEN! please only request imagines, and not oneshots. for those waiting for a continuation of ‘searching home’ or ‘unexpected’ i am so sorry... finishing those two is going to take me a while :/

hmu/msg me to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

heorte til heorte

(msg me to be added to the taglist!)

relationship: athelstan x alethia stahl (oc) | summary: alethia wanted to go home, to return to her family. instead, she finds herself in ninth-century england. not speaking the language, and still processing the grief of her other life, she searches for an anchor - athelstan. | tags: angst, fluff, timetravel

masterlist | preview | read on ao3

No romantic relationships // character x character

Queendom - relationship: Lagertha x Aslaug | summary: They’ve both loved and they’ve both lost. Perhaps it was time that their hearts warmed again. | tags: angst, fluff

The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians - relationships: none | summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

I may be a bimbo, but I’m not stupid - relationships: slight oc/ oc | summary: Ivar kills Sigurd in a fit of rage, but Barbie isn't so quick to forgive cruelness. | tags: angst, crack, timetravel

1st gen Vikings

Strange Woman  relationship: Rollo x timetraveler!reader | summary: The woman that appeared out of nowhere could be oh so dangerous, but even a stupid man would know that she was fascinating. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Friend of Thor - relationship: rollo x timetraveler!asgardian!reader | summary: The reader, a fellow Asgardian and friend of Thor and the new King of Asgard, Brunnhilde, falls through worlds as the new guardian of the Bifrost tampers with the magic. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

And the Gods wished they were me - relationship: Judith x viking!gn!reader | summary: Judith knows she should not mourn Athelstan. Nor should she even look at Norse heathens. She does both anyway, because Judith was named after a woman that had only rage and death, and she cannot escape her fate. | tags: angst, fluff

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Another day / part 2 - relationship: Ubbe x reader | prompt: we live to fight another day. | tags: angst

Oldest - relationship: Ubbe x timetraveler!reader; platonic!Ivar x reader | summary:  It seems that few things change about being the oldest sibling, no matter which place – or time | tags: fluff, timetravel, slight angst

Yggdrasil relationship: Ubbe x reader; platonic!Ivar x reader; dad!Harald x reader | summary:  How can you tell your father what happened to you when he’d done it to so many others. | tags: angst, dark/gory

Hvitserk 'Whiteshirt' Ragnarsson

Hvitserksdottir - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.” | tags: angst, fluff

Floki’s Cabin - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “Just trust me. Please. | tags: angst

Searching Home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader | summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, dark/gory, timetravel

Neither - relationship: genderfluid!reader x Hvitserk | Summary: Hvitserk finds out about genderfluidity and accepts he might not be completely straight | tags: fluff, timetravel

Law of conservation - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | summary: You’ve been working as a tutor at your high school for about a year now. When your parents throw a barbecue party for your new neighbors, their mother Aslaug asks you to tutor her son Hvitserk, who is already a notorious flirt at his school. | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

When in Bali... -  relationships: hvitserk x reader, ivar x freydís, sigurd x oc | summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it? | tags: fluff

Ivar 'the Boneless' Ragnarsson

Unholy Matrimony - A Sham in Four Acts / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationship: Ivar x reader | prompt: I’ve learnt to love you. | tags: angst, fluff smut

Insatiable Little Heathens  - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: drabble, for all of y’all who wanted more of Unholy Matrimony | tags: fluff

Resolve - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar’s legs hurt but he’s so fucking thickheaded | tags: fluff

My kind of witch - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The man with blazing blue eyes fascinates you as soon as you see him and as you realize the struggles he faces every day, your admiration for him grows into something more. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Red - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar finally meets his match. | tags: smut, dark/gory

Serve - relationship: sub!ivar x buff!reader | summary: Ivar keeps teasing you. You finally have enough and give him a taste of his own medicine | tags: smut

Searching home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 -  relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader |  summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, smut, dark/gory, timetravel

Totally artistic -  relationship: ivar x reader | summary: When inspiration hits, you can’t stop it | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk, ivar x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

Brother - relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader, reader & oc | summary: You left your home and your brother behind for a reason. Now, a man is causing trouble at the borders of Kattegat, and as Ivar's queen, you take justice into your own hands. | tags: fluff

Unexpected / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 - relationship: ivar x thrall!reader | summary: Ivar finally decides to fuck the slave he’s been eyeing for so long, but when his angry side slips out, things take a turn for the wholly unexpected. | tags: smut

Tarot -  relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader | summary: Your day at the fair has been pretty slow – until a client like no other shows up. | tags: fluff

Imagines

How the Vikings would react to an accidental time traveler and a quiz to see if you’d survive: https://uquiz.com/dVXpgW

Ragnarssons (+Gyda): First Kiss

Social Media 

How the Vikings would react to guns and snapchat filters 

How the Vikings would react to modern dancing 

How the Vikings would react to modern music, and what they’d like

How the Vikings would react to modern concepts of astronomy and space 

How the Vikings react to modern haircare 

Vikings and Astrology

How Vikings would react to THEM timetraveling

Vikings + getting sick 

Vikings + Halloween 

Vikings + realizing you’re pregnant

Vikings characters + how they'd react to finding Accidental Time Traveler crying somewhere and not knowing why 

Vikings + you on your period  (+ more hcs about Ivar)

Vikings + Legos

Vikings + reader being much less stressed in their time

Vikings + single mother

Vikings + Gender Neutral Thor

Vikings + modern food

Vikings + touch avoidant cuddler

Vikings + Kids

Vikings + their history

Ragnarssons + being possesive

Vikings + Maleficent/Fae!reader

Vikings + curls and afros

Vikings + sleeping habits

Vikings + contortionist/super flexible reader

Vikings as modern!uni students

Vikings + affectionate drunk!reader

timetraveling!Vikings + modern tv/movies

Vikings + gen z slang

Vikings + curly haired kids

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Vikings + eras other than their own

Vikings + ivar being remembered/famous

[pleinsdemuses]

𝑾𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷𝑺 👀

Frank Castle x Karen Page

Frank Castle x Natasha Romanoff

Joel Miller x Maggie Rhee Smith

Joel Miller x Alicia Clark

Grant Ward x Daisy Johnson

Marc Spector x Lara Croft (a Moon Knight x Tomb raider crossover omg)

Marc Spector x Katherine Pierce

Brock Rumlow x Sinthea (ofc ofc my fav toxic couple)

Brock Rumlow x Sharon Carter

Bucky Barnes x Brock Rumlow

Bucky Barnes x Dominika Egorova

John Wick x Dominika Egorova

John Wick x Natasha Romanoff (just imagine these two meeting on a mission)

Leo Barnes x Sidney Prescott (where he is her bodyguard in Scream 👀)

Dr Chris Beck x Ellen Ripley (in an Alien verse)

Shane Walsh x Judith Grimes

Aleksander Morozova x Mary Stuart

Aleksander Morozova x Morgana Pendragon

Aleksander Morozova x Yennefer of Vengerberg

Geralt of rivia x Daenerys Targaryen

Loki x Lady Sif

Loki x Yennefer of Vengerberg

Loki x Morgana Pendragon

Dean Winchester x Katherine Pierce

Dean Winchester x Rebekah Mikaelson

Billy Russo x Harley Quinn

Ragnar Lothbrok x Lagertha

Rollo x Gilsa

Jamie Fraser x Claire Beauchamp

Rick Grimes x Claire Redfield

Leon Kennedy x Claire Redfield

Yennefer of vengerberg x Stephen Strange

Darcy Lewis x Stephen Strange

Jane & Loki

Katniss Everdeen x Oliver Queen

Yennefer of vengerberg x Daemon Targaryen

Most wanted | Muse list.

[ohoh-inmortal]

REQUESTS OPEN!!

I know I haven't post anything here but I want to take request to improve my writing skills and also to have fun.

I'm willing to write almost everything so just ask. If there's a character I didn't include within the fandom you want to ask, please do.

FANDOMS

Mcu

Bucky Barnes/The winter soldier

Loki

Thor

Vikings

Rollo Lothbrok

Harald Finehair

Outlander

Jamie Fraser

Stephen Bonnet (no non-con)

DYNAMICS:

💮 Female/gender neutral

💮 Platonic, romantic, and relationships

💮 Angst, fluff, smut, and all you can think of

💮 Headcanons, alphabets, characters reacting to specific situations or dialogues

💮 One shots, mini-series if the promt is good.

💮 Match-ups and ship requests.

[thranduilsperkybutt]

Gif source:  Here

Imagine Ragnar teasing Rollo about you, because you’re all that Rollo has been talking about for the last week.

---------  Request for anon  ---------

“Quite something,” Rollo murmurs, watching from further inland as you spar along the beach with Bjorn. Teaching the younger man had become a pastime of yours, and now he was nearly able to best you in battle more often than not, “aren’t they?”

This time, however, the victory is yours, as he lays sprawled along the shore with a bewildered look up at you and a breath he can’t quite seem to catch for the split instant that you laugh down at his surprise.

“Singing praises again, Rollo?” Ragnar side-eyes his brother, knowing smile spreading with the hint of annoyance he earns with, “Seems you cannot speak highly enough, where Bjorn’s newfound teacher is concerned.” Too knowing, for Rollo’s liking, when he jests, “I wonder, why that is?”

Ragnar only chuckles at his brother’s visible discomfort, as Rollo rolls his eyes, “You speak nonsense, like always.”

General + Imagines Tag List:

@im5-tw @hanoi15 @thatbitchann @genericbrowngurl @badbitsh13 @wayward-sociopath-221b @abisexualsailormoon @thatsjustdamncrazy @breadsquash @mydelightfultigerbouquet @midnightzonzz @stylebydesignxo @otassbek @a-pigeon-is-spying-on-me @mysecondcarisa67chevyimpala +  @dorkofclanlavellan @kristalulah

[damn-stark]

Fools ~ Rollo imagine

Rollo Lothbrok x Fem!reader

Requested by Anonymous- Could you do something with Rollo?

Warning- fluff

—

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Mhmm, naturally. I don’t want to see you.”

You push yourself off the pillar and began to walk away from Rollo, only for him to follow after you, making you let out a fustrated sigh.

“Let me talk to you.” He says behind you, as he tried to keep up with you.

“I don’t wish to talk to you, Rollo,” you continue to walk faster to try and lose him behind you but he only quickens his own pace until he falls beside you. You hear him say something to you but you only ignore him—what you said was true, you didn’t wish to talk to him, especially not after what he did; to his people, brother and...you.

He never went back to Kattekat, he stayed in Frankia to peruse after people that hated him. He left you for fame and titles, and even if you never liked to admit it, he broke your heart. And now you are no fool to fall for his charms and good looks, again; you are stronger then that and have....gotten over him.

“Listen to me!” He shouts, pushing you to the nearest wall and keeping you there, making sure you won’t escape from his grasp; you stay still for a while, and take in his features, features that you’ve haven’t seen in years....but again you are no fool, he left you, so quickly you pull out your sword and threaten him.

“Touch me again and I will cut your manhood off before I cut your head off.” You hiss, pushing him off you, ignoring his chuckle as you stormed off finally getting rid of him, for now.

—

The raid was over and now you were heading back to Kattekat; but before you could get home you needed to pass by Frankia and drop the traitor off—he should be dead in your opinon, not being left back at his castle; but nobody listened, but if they asked, you’d want to kill him, and you would....probably.

“Let’s talk now.” The sound of his deep familiar voice makes you stand up but ultimately sit back down as their was nowhere to go on the ship, all you could do was turn your back to him and hope he would get that as a sign that you didn’t wish to talk to him, but he didn’t and continued talking to you. “You have a right to be mad at me, I understand that..” he pauses as if waiting for you to respond but all you do is respond with silence, making him shift in his seat next to you and continuing with what he was trying to say.

“...I’ve thought about you, I haven’t stopped—”

“Oh really? Because by you staying in Frankia and leaving me, it didn’t seem like it.” You inturrupt quickly, anger clear in your tone and the way you had spun around to face him. “I waited for you to return and you never did, that broke my heart, I’ll admit that to you and only you and I also admit that I hate you Rollo Lothbrok—”

“And I still love you Y/N”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you feel as if you heart had been punctured by an arrow, you part your lips to retort but nothing seemed to come out, instead you turn your back to him again.

You were no fool...but those words he uttered still got the best of you, they made you feel weak and for the feelings you tried to kill away for him to show themselves. You wanted to hate him; but the truth is you never could as much as you did try.

“You’re married and have children, you can’t love me.” You finally say, still with your back turned to him.

“Yes, but my life is not there, it’s with you....I want to go back home, with you.” He speaks softly, placing a hand on your shoulder and moving it to your jaw to turn you to face him; letting you see the small smile on his lips and for your anger to be replaced with unshed tears.

You place your hand on top of his and look down at floor, swallowing back the tears you were holding in, before meeting his eyes again. “Than I suppose we’re both fools for still loving one another.”

[enfantlunaire]

Imagine Rollo giving you his sacred bracelet to prove you how much you mean to him - part I. 

You were in an arranged marriage with Rollo. Your father forced you in order to create an alliance with the vikings. Your education, your father, your mother, your country and above all, your religion and god taught you to despise pagan religion and its ignorant believers. 

You were sitting on the edge of your new bed, bored and sad when you decided to get some fresh air outside, in the multiple gardens of the kingdom. Your favorite one was actually the smallest one. There were so many flowers like red roses, pink peonies, orange dahlias… It was an amazing whirlwind of colors. Moreover there was this large white bench made of stones where you liked to sit to admire all of these nature’s beauties. But today, you did not come with a large smile on your face but with a desperate and sad look. It was painful to think about it. Painful to think about what your life was going through and how you will overcome this insane marriage. 

« — Dear Lord, how I am going to get through this? How did my father allowed this crazy marriage and why? I was not predestined for that… No. No, it cannot be my future. » You whispered, looking up to the sky. When you lowered your face, you saw him, walking towards you. Deep down, you wanted to escape, but you stayed on your bench, staring at him as he was the devil. 

« — Y/n, I was looking for you. » He said, totally embarrassed by the situation.

「 english isn’t my mother tongue, do not hesitate to leave a comment if you see some mistakes, thx! 」

Gif (x)

[ivarsqueen]

💖💖💖

[paracosmoon]

king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine “Star Wars” special edition: crossovers II. Vikings.

Imagine you are a shieldmaiden trained by Lagertha. You end up found by Darth Vader, who is at your planet to dominate it.

Warnings 1: a lot of (?) smut, violence, action, ambiguous character, unburnt Vader, adult language. Not recommended for minors or those who are sensitive to any of these themes. No Padmé or the twins in this universe.

Warnings 2: mentions of Lagertha, Björn, etc—this happens before her death, right in between the civil war amongst Ragnar’s children. Bear in mind this is an alternative universe, though.

Warnings 3: fluffy endings :)

***

Intro.

Vader’s POV.•

The Emperor gives his pupil a list of planets where the Force has been found within potential enemies. He usually assigns this task for others, overall inquisitors, but because there are relevant allies who contacted him, Palpatine believes Vader can deal with it in person. As he explains:

“You ought to land in planet Y/C, where a man named Rollo waits for you. He’s been our spy since the rise of our Empire. It is important you deal with the man and instaure our forces there. That planet has been resisting us for some time. You know what you ought to do.”

“As you wish, Master.”

Vader goes on his knee, before rising and preparing his ships for depart. The hood he wears omits his features and there is nothing within him but darkness.

His recent elevation to a Sith Lord followed a path filled with horror, losses and blood. Despite the efforts played on meditation, screams of the victims of his sabers never cease to haunt him at night.

As he enters his ship, though, a rather strange sentiment flows through him. It is when he has a vision of this lady of braided hair dressed in unusual clothing, carrying a shield and a sword. There is something enigmatic in those eyes, which he cannot decipher. He is, however, strangely captivated by this sight.

One wonders what she has for me… Why should the Force show me you above all others when clearly I should be dealing with this Rollo?

Nonetheless, Vader suppress his inquiries. It’s time to complete his mission.

***

Your POV.

You are sharpening your sword in the earliest hours of the morning. Wide awake, a boost of energy remains in your body right after you trained with another of Lagertha’s shieldmaiden.

However, you are now by yourself and you decide to take a walk in the surroundings to make sure there is no danger around. Despite the possibility of meeting any of Ivar’s army, you are not afraid. Living in the days of war means there is little time to nurture any sort of fear.

Emboldened by this thought, you leave a hand rest on the basis of your sword all the while you carry a shield on your left arm. You have an instinct that you mind find someone—or something nearby—so you are alert.

As you walk, sun rises higher and the first rays of light begin to cast at you. It is slightly cold because of the morning mist, but you don’t mind. You dress a bear’s skin over your shoulders and a leather brown gown that now falls loose over your legs—you had tied the skirt of it around your thighs at your training. So you are not entirely cold.

As you cross the field, you are disturbed by some sense of danger. You close your eyes, trying to picture a field force around you: a trick you’ve learned in your meditations lessons when you were younger. Somehow it always works with you. Björn would say you are favored by the Gods, a thought that most seem to agree with since you don’t die in battles.

You don’t see why the divine would favor you, but you don’t complain. It is something you carry since your birth: the ability to read people’s emotions—whether they are lying or being genuine, being kind or distrustful, etc—besides sensing where there is danger. You could also possess the envision of future events, hence why you are so valuable to Lagertha.

However, for this same reason is why Ivar wants you dead, why Björn wants to fuck you, why Ubbe is always after you. You’d flirt with both, but you know very well why they are interested in you, and it’s always upsetting you.

I am more than this, I am not just some child of the gods that these men seem to be so fortunate to have around. They barely try to get to know me at all!

Thoughts that are always going back and forth to you, the very reason why you’ve become isolated with few friends. But now at the present these cannot—must not—distract you from the threat the unknown poses you.

It’s when you finally meet him. A hooded figure, arms folded, stares right into you. You sense somehow that your sword is not going to be enough to defeat that figure. Nonetheless, you lift your shield and try to channel the divine gift you seem to possess.

“I am not here to hurt you.” The male voice is heard. You cast a distrustful glance. “I am looking for Rollo. Are you familiar with the man?”

Your chest is heavy. The figure gives you bad vibes. You should turn around and let Lagertha know of this unusual visitor, who has business to Rollo.

“You have the Force, I see.” The man casually speaks in spite of your stunned silence. He steps forward to where you step backwards. “You haven’t been trained on it, have you? If you lead me to this Rollo, your life will be spared. I can teach you how to deal with it.”

You unsheathe the sword and raise your shield. You swear you see an amusement twinkling in his eyes, even though you don’t see them. As pathetic as you feel—he is stronger than you, clearly—you are not submitting easily.

“Is that your decision?” He laughs. “You choose to fight me with your primitive weapons? You strike me as a reasonable individual.”

“Your words are poison. You are trying to overpower me.”

You capture a glimpse of his face, the wind now blowing a cold breeze. There is something about his features that make his presence enigmatic, that draws you to him. Though you sense he’s not a good individual, you cannot stay away. It is almost as if you are pulled to him.

“I don’t have to try.” He responds calmly. “I do overpower you.”

You swallow hard.

“So what is going to be?”

***

Vader’s POV.

This planet astonishes him by different cultural expressions he doesn’t follow at first. But those who attempted to cross his path are not living to tell further about his mysterious presence.

Until you come along, Vader is indifferent to his surroundings. The moment he senses Force coming from the forest is the one he knows he’s being distracted from his duties. But I have to find out what it is.

Standing now before you, Vader smirks at your conflict. When reading into your thoughts, he does not need to take too long to find out about you, who you are and the kind of warrior you’ve become.

Some part of him, in fact, refuses to admit how he unconsciously relates to your journey so far. An orphan slaved girl who ends up earning the freedom upon her owners are told how special you are and now here you are, a shieldmaiden fighting a civil war. A soldier like him. An untrained jedi, the parallels are there to see.

Even him cannot look it away.

“You don’t strike me as a reasonable person.” A wit response that, had come from someone else, would have them killed. Not you. Vader seems to appreciate your sharp tongue and sharper mind.

“No”, he agrees. “Many would claim otherwise. And yet here we are. Do you know this Rollo or what?”

“I don’t.” You eventually give in, though your defensive posture remains the same. “Why? What business do you have with him?”

“It’s none of your concern. You say you don’t know him, but your mistress might.” He is tired of this tension and soon removes your weapons. “You are taking me to her.”

The Jedi trick doesn’t work with you as well as he hopes. Your mind shield is impressive, though. But something about you, or at how you attempt to resist him, weakens his darkness.

“How can I know if you are not Ivar’s spy?” A question he sees you regret asking since you realize the illogic phrasing. You’d likely been killed were he someone sent by your enemy. “I am worthless to you.”

“On the contrary. You know that.” He wraps one hand around your neck, caressing it. Perhaps he waits for you to resist, not entirely surprised you don’t. “There is fear in you.”

But also desire, he sees it now. Because he feels it too. The Force draws him close to you and vice versa. Vader’s hood has long dropped showing his face, but he does not mind. Not when he’s into your head.

“Stop messing with my mind”, you protest. “Kill me if you must.”

“You underestimate yourself.” He tilts his head, letting go of your neck. “I was once like you. You are only obeying others all the single time. Isn’t it tiresome? To fight wars that are not yours? To what purpose? To be desired single-handedly for your divine powers?”

The shock in your face betrays your conflict. Oh yes, I understand you more than you think.

“I will take to her.” You hesitate. “If you assure me you’re not killing her.”

“A promise I cannot make.” Vader tells you. “It depends of your success in this.”

You step backwards again. But where you could have run off, you don’t. It’s when a noise distracts you.

You sense the army of the enemy coming to that direction. Vader watches as you take your weapons back and run back to where you come from.

He watches from where he is the very moment you battle your enemies. Vader is personally amazed by how you are scarcely hurt in the process.

There is something alluring in you too, when your braid gets dirt of blood, when you channel your anger and fear to knock the opponents down; of your cocky teasings to the enemies.

You remind Vader of his former self, of the days where he was a Jedi. There is something so similar, yet so different at the same time. He does not like to overthink. That is when he decides to step in at long last.

***

Your POV.

You stand not too far as you see the man is actually familiar to Lagertha, who greets him well. You come to see that she is familiar with the Sith to some extent.

“We make business with them”, Lagertha explains you, giving how puzzling you’ve been looking from her to Lord Vader. “But that your emperor is trying to make business with Rollo does surprise me, though. He’s a bastard who cares with nothing but himself.”

“Nonetheless, where can I meet him?”

For someone so quietly frightening, Lord Vader knows how to charm others to get what he wants.

You ignore that your thoughts are heard and thus amuse him. Negotiations bore you, so you excuse yourself to go to the lake. You need to bath, hating to smell bad.

As you do so, you ensure that no one is following you. The Force seems to calm your fears, so you relax your guard. You remember the words of lord Vader, beseeching your memories and bringing back that uncomfortable feeling of serving others.

You remove every piece of clothing before stepping into the river, hair down in your back, completely nude. Water is damn cold but you don’t seem to mind at first.

You wait. As you do, wind blows a warm breeze against your skin. Thankfully it’s midday and far hotter than earlier. It is only when you finally dive in that you feel a pair of eyes on you.

You would have panicked… but strangely enough you don’t when seeing the man of yellow eyes and short hair standing at the opposite of you. The first thing you do is cover your boobs with your hands.

“What are you doing here, Lord Vader?” You ask him, but something about his eyes glued on you are making you warm right in the between of your legs even though the water is not exactly hot.

“I came to see you. I find you restless. Lady Lagertha seems to think so.” He side smirks at you. “You are too great for a shieldmaiden, Y/N.”

“And are you going to settle in an arranged marriage too once war ends? Don’t you think this is a small perspective for you?”

He asks you. His voice sounds like a thunder, tumbling in your chest. You don’t answer him, no. You give him a glance and then dive in the waters of the river.

You stay there for a long time. It begins to make you cold. You hold your breath, eyes closing, taking a deep dive in your meditation might cost you.

Memories of past wash over you. The fire, the hurt you’ve been through. Always serving. Always aiming to please, always fighting for others to see you who you are.

Always invisible when others took what you had. You remember Björn’s flirtations, or when Ubbe broke your heart. It suffocates you, it…

“Y/N.” He takes you of the waters of river. You stand before Lord Vader soaked and shaking, gasping for air. “Don’t let Force consume you. You are a free spirit. Let me unchain you.”

And that is how you end up becoming his pupil.

***

Vader’s POV.

His eyes follow your moves everywhere you go. That morning he watches your trainings with the saber, your concentration, your moves. For the first time in a long while, you are balanced.

How ironic that it is I the one to brings you to the balance of the Force.

Once you finish your practices you walk inside, ready to prepare your bath. This time he joins you. And you are surprised to find him just as you slip into the bath tub.

“Do you mind if I slide in?” He inquires quietly as usual.

You’ve become used to each other’s presence. Vader’s teachings seem to stretch to something else somewhere along the lines, but you don’t seem to know what that is or you are at least scared to figure it out.

Vader knows your thoughts and sentiments well. As he tosses his clothes out and a blush paints your cheeks, he has the confirmation of it.

“I am no good man, Y/N.” He slides in, standing right in front of you. Vader’s eyes linger to your hair, your oval face, going down to your breasts and below. He knows he affects you. You likewise affect him. “I thought you knew that.”

“I don’t think we are either too good or too bad.” You lean your back against the tub, gently adjusting to the space you now share with him. “Though you manipulated me to be here, you can’t deny I am here willingly. Otherwise I’d be dead, right?”

Now you lean forward to be closer to him. His eyes stare at yours as you rest your hands over his thighs.

“What beast did I set free?” He asks maliciously.

You side smirk at him.

“This is who I always was.” And you take his manhood into your hands, surprised somewhat for finding it prompted to erection. “You know it.”

He takes a deep breath as you hold it gently into your hands. You tilt your head, observing his reactions as you feel it pumping into your delicate fingers.

“Do I?”

He cannot deny the lust you evoke him. Having seen you naked a few times, it is only natural it comes like this. But he desires you for who you are, for the other half you seem to be. When he opens his eyes and rests them on your face, Vader knows there is more than words are suffice to say.

So he kisses you hungrily, just like that. Crudely so. Desperately so. And you respond willingly so, moved by this newly risen passion that holds a tight grip upon your heart.

It as is better than any praise you’ve received in the past, whether by the men you’ve fought alongside or by the mistress you served. It is far superior than showing a superior force over the enemy and subduing him at your will.

A sentiment that reflects Vader’s. As he kisses you, his moans shut by the dance of tongues, as he is aroused by your skillful touch into his manhood, Vader begins to acquaint himself with the greediness towards you.

He does not wish, nor is inclined, to share you. And you feel it, like a electrified field. You are ignited by that spark and you give in.

And after a while, when water is cold, he comes right into your hand. Vader watches as you lick your fingers, a temptation that is too much to behold.

In a teasing manner, you stand and grab something like a towel, but the moment you do, Vader takes it from you. A commanding man, he bosses you around and you obey. You are mesmerized by how tall he is, how great he is, his muscles well build… Yet, those yellow eyes don’t let you do anything.

There is little need for words when he uses the force to pin your hands above your head the moment you lie down in bed. His strong thighs are dominating yours after spreading your legs; you see his pulsing manhood, the tip of it close to your entrance.

Vader smirks at the power he has over you. His eyes stare indecently over your breasts before leaning his callous hands to play with your nipples.

“Is this good?” He asks you, aroused by your reactions. Your body reacts at the very least touch. Your skin burns under his fingers. Vader wants you. Badly.

“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Oh Gods, have mercy on me!” You cry out. “Freyja is so good.”

He leans forward to reward your cries with a deeply passionated kiss. As his hands move down to your womanhood, he inserts two fingers at once and he smiles against your lips as you whimper under his command.

“Tell me, have you ever done this to someone?”

His voice is husky, his lips pursuing yours before leaving traces of kiss over your face and neck, giving you bruises.

“O-Only once.” You gasp loudly and Vader senses your desperation when he engulfs your nipple with his tongue all the while working on you with his very occupied fingers. “Y-You are the best. Oh fuck!”

He likes the praises, despise the fang of jealousy when it comes to you. The sounds you make soon appease the darkness trait that poisons his heart. You are begging him to ruin you and Vader smirks at how a powerful shieldmaiden subdues so easily at his will. It arouses him, but he wants to see you a mess.

As he moves his lips over your right nipple, he feels you are about to come undone. He wants to watch you as you do so. It’s when you ask him:

“H-Have you..?”

Vader slyly smirks at you. He uses his free hand to hold your chin tightly, before wrapping it around your neck.

“Why so demanding in asking?” He inserts a third finger, earning a scream this time. “Does it please my lady to know I have been taken in the past?”

You blush furiously, much to his delight.

“Lord Vader!” You protest.

“Come to me, love.” He watches you roll your eyes, arching your back, unable to use your hands. And just like that, you do. Your juices leave his fingers completely soaked.

And he crawls over you. When you are about to catch your breath, Vader thrusts into you.

“Oh Maker!” He exclaims, avid for you.

And when leaning forward to kiss you, he knows how easily you are coming undone again.

“You are mine”, your words come uninvited, but Vader smiles warmly at you.

“I am.” He releases your hands and his smile spreads as you hold him tight against you, legs wrapped around his waist as your hands are now playing with his hand.

“I am yours.” You vow it, before kissing his lips passionately.

***

Your POV.

You are dressed in leather when you land in Paris. Rollo is baffled when he comes to meet Lord Vader. But his expression diverts to amusement when his eyes move from you to him and vice versa.

“Looks like I am not the only one to be successful. Does Lagertha know how far you’ve become?”

“As I don’t find the need to justify my actions to her”, you remark, “I don’t need to do the same to you, Rollo.”

“We are here for business”, Vader cuts Rollo’s response. “The Emperor does not wish to waste his time.”

“I figured you have already.” He looks at you up and down, but before he knows, Vader is closer to choke him.

The only reason why he doesn’t is because Rollo is an essential key for the negotiations.

“You talk to her like that and you will not live again.”

You smirk victoriously. Before the trio enter the castle built on rock, you admire the construction of the place. It is funny to think how far your life has changed since his arrival.

When being greeted by other noblemen, most of whom find your pagan origins abhorrent, you don’t mind their despise. You dress in fancy gowns, embellished in jewels, although you miss to be at the core of battles.

This might not take long as you believe. Some of the locals are planning a rebellion against their lord—that is to say, Count Rollo. But once you sense it, you prepare your sword. Having left Vader to his business—you are a shieldmaiden not a politician, you lack patience and taste for this—, you begin your own pace in the surroundings.

It all happens very fast. You don’t need to use your saber—you prefer your sword—, but you are prepared to make use of the Force when necessary. Even in your best gown, with your hair carefully braided in a similar fashion of Lagertha’s, you don’t fear getting yourself dirty in the process.

You’d soon earn the nickname of Valkyrie of the Force due to your implacable capacity in fighting opponents uncontestedly—though you got some help from other soldiers because you are not that powerful to beat fifty or sixty locals.

There is bloodshed, naturally. But you manage to resolve the situation, smiling all the way you fight like Freyja. You could’ve been Lagertha’s heiress had it been possible, but your spirit aims higher. The liberty no chains or titles could tie you.

By the time Vader comes, the rebellion is settled. There is blood in your cheek and he sighs when cleaning it with his gloved hand.

“Why must you get involved in this unholy mess, Y/N?”

“A warrior does not dodge away from battles that must be fought.” You know your braid is a mess, but you also see in Vader’s eyes when you are folding your arms and the braid drops on your shoulder that you are looking good. You smirk. “You like it, don’t you? Why protesting against it, though? It’s my nature and you won’t change it.”

He heavily sighs at you, shaking his head. You love to make things difficult for him. But there is little time to discuss it once Rollo is left dealing with the consequences of a rebellion that you helped crushing it.

“So where do we go now?” You ask him.

“Matters to attend with Lagertha.” Anakin responds you. When seeing how this insignificant phrase wipes your smile out of your face, he smirks. “Am I detecting jealousy in you, Y/N?”

“No.” You clear your throat, diverting your gaze. “I only…”

“Yes, you are.” He smirks, satisfied to have you where he wants: his counterpart in every meaning of the word, specially where darkness is concerned.

He comes from behind you and kisses your neck, snaking his arms around your waist.

“You don’t have to worry, it is you I love, not her or anyone else.”

You barely have time to chew the meaning of his words, how coy they sound to your ears because you are interrupted. The Emperor is calling and you take the opportunity to bath in the ship.

***

Vader’s POV.

When he sees you dressing in red silk with your partially loose falling behind your back, Vader is instantly aroused by the sight of you. There is a feast about to happen, in order to celebrate the successfully conquest over the planet that will catapult in Vader becoming king of it and you, his queen.

“Hold on.” He prevents you from leaving the household. There is just the two of you in this cabin that Lagertha bequests for you. “Let me appreciate you, woman.”

You turn at him, blushing. You are not very comfortable in silk, but because of the special circumstances, you are dressing it in your favor color: red. Which, by intriguing coincidence, is also the same color of your paramour’s sabers.

He surrounds you like a hunter about to get the prey, his gloved hands gently touching the little of your neck that is exposed. Vader, always attentive to details, sees by the shivers that run over your spine that his mere touch arouses you. He smirks, admiring your beauty.

He kisses your neck, there staying for so long, earning you a long and lousy sigh. He sees that you are squeezing a hand over the other, your nipples are going hard under the cloth of your gown.

Vader bites your earlobe, smirking devilish at you.

“Do I make you weak?” He asks you, slowly turning you at him.

“My love, we are running late.” You barely breathe when his hands move from your neck below, making you draw indecent thoughts.

“You are not answering my question.” He makes you watch him in his eyes before Vader goes on his knees. “Do I?”

You are petrified as he lifts the skirt of your gown. You breathe in anticipation, his hands already resting on your thighs.

“Y-Yes.” Vader does not conceal how much he enjoys having you at his mercy. The higher his fingertips go, the more shaky your legs go. “Lord Vader, you don’t know how… how…”

“You are saying?”

Vader smiles when invading your thoughts, the secrecy of them coming open to him. His fingers soon find his familiar way to you, and he is surprised to see how you give in, struggling not to fall straight to the floor.

He chuckles, watching you trying to keep yourself composed. Specially when he lifts the skirts of your gown higher and replaces his fingers with his mouth. And just like that he eats you out.

And even when you and Ubbe did indeed engage in some sexual flirtations that resulted in having you deflowered by him, he never went as far as doing what he is doing to you.

Vader knows it and he takes pride for giving you another level of pleasure. It is when the door is abruptly open by some guard, but there is no time for embarrassment… because he uses the Force to send the guy away. If he died in the process, he wouldn’t care.

And neither would you, despite the initial startle—however being caught gives you adrenaline in your veins. Malicious ideas barely have time to form in your mind because you end up crying out as you ride his face.

“Fuck.” You are breathless, still feeling your womanhood ache when he stands and cleans his mouth with the sleeve of his dark robes. “My darling…”

He pulls at his side and smirk down at you.

“There will be more when I make you my wife.”

Your face brightens up in such a manner that makes him beam. It appears you are his weakness after all.

“I am looking forward to that.”

You tell him, overjoyed as you start going out to the feast. Vader reads your sentiments well and he feels back to himself again. He is also much entertained by how you struggle to walk, your mind filled with unspoken dirty confessions that would arouse him, but there is no time for that. Not yet.

Not when the feast is about to bath in blood…

*

Björn looks grumpy as much as Ubbe is disappointed when Lord Vader shows up. He sees in each face what are their inappropriate thoughts concerning you. He makes sure at least one chokes with wine—enjoying the suffering he inflicts on the other.

I am not tolerating any rivals tonight.

But one glance from you and he might let them live. It is not the time for it yet. He then is entertained by Lagertha with a proposition that pleases Vader and, by extent, the Emperor.

It is when an idea begins to form in his mind: what if I become Emperor myself?

For most of his life he’s been obeying here and there. Now, it is all clear that he’s been serving no one’s purposes but that of Palpatine’s. Vader decides to make a good use of the civil war for his own end.

This time, it ends here. Like he freed you before, he is setting himself free from the chains of empire once for all.

***

Your POV.

The surprise attack results in a bloodshed whose consequences are catastrophic for both sides of the civil war. You are concerned with your mistress, but you notice Vader is not nowhere to be seen.

Where is he?

You refuse to use your hate to your benefit, but when you spot the traitor figure of Hvitserk you lose your composure. If once upon a time you were friends, now you evidently are no more.

As glamorously as you are dressed, with perhaps ripping a part of your gown that is now showing your left thigh, you are skillful with the use of your sword.

“Looking good for a shieldmaiden.” He snarls at you, trying to turn the tables. “How far have you become.”

You apply a great deal of blows against him, but he is unaffected by your hatred. You never forgot how he betrayed you, selling you to Rollo in the very first opportunity. You were once close friends, but after that…

But the resentment turns into angst. Old memories boil and the next thing you know, you dishonor your own code by using the Force to your purpose. You surprise him by lifting him.

“I have the higher ground here, my friend.”

He is terrified by what you’ve become. He struggles for air. But you don’t care, not anymore. Had it not been by this, it would be by sword.

Is there really any difference?

But your heart hasn’t been completely corrupted by darkness. So all the while the royal tend burns in fire and blood, you let your former friend live.

It’s only then Vader arrives to meet you. And once again the coward Hvitserk runs from you.

***

Vader’s POV.

He knows what happened and is there to console you at long last. You don’t ask where he’s been through, too shaken to talk. You’d go back to fighting but he stops you.

“No. It’s time to go.”

“What? I’ve been fighting this war for too long…”

You are a soldier like I was a Jedi.

He sees now why the Force has brought the two of you together.

“It’s over, Y/N. The war ended tonight.” You are baffled by what he tells you. “Ivar the Boneless is exiled, victory belongs to Björn Ironside. He rules uncontestedly Kattegat.”

You don’t want to ask, but you ask anyway.

“And Lagertha?”

Vader hesitates, but gives you the news you already felt in your heart. And he watches you break down, a sight that pained his heart. But he holds you close, giving you the feeling of security after years fighting.

For better or for worse, it’s over. For both of you.

*

At least in terms. As you move to England, you are by Vader’s side as you help him to placate the enemies that remain. It’s there that he opts to stay, it’s there that you two are finally married.

“Here we are”, he holds your hands against his. You are dressed in a magnificent black silk gown with details in gold, hair completely lose with a tiara on top of it; whereas he’s dressed in black too, though in better ornaments. You smile at how your fingers intertwine. “At long last, my wife.”

Vader watches you with a roaming pride in his eyes, a reflection of the love that makes your y/c irises gleam.

“At long last, my husband.”

The two of you enjoy the first moment as husband and wife after a privy ceremony. It’s more about you as a whole than the new realities where you are the Emperor and Empress of planet Y/C.

“I have news to give you.” You tell him after a while. By the look he gives you, you can tell he knows, but even so you want to tell him. “I am carrying our first child.”

“By the Maker”, he chuckles as he puts you against his chest and spins you around. “These are wonderful news. How happy you make me, love.”

And you smile because you know. That is not how the story of you two ends, but how it begins. Never before he and you felt so happy…

[forvalhallaandodin]

The Girl With Fire In Her Veins

Here is little sneak peak of a story I’m working on. I’ve had it stuck in my head for like a year or so and I’m finally putting it out there. 

Summery: Rowena MacLeod’s life came crashing down around her when she was 17. For eight years, she is forced to fight her way through the Saxon’s challenges until the Vikings show up. 

I was 17 when my family and I were traveling across the country of England with just our packs and caravan. My mother, Ada, and father, Fergus, had decided to travel after my brother, Callan, was born and we did. We traveled from our home in Scotland and over into Norway and Denmark, making our way into Germany and into Frankia before eventually getting to southern England.

Eventually we were going to be making our way back into Scotland but at the time we didn’t know that Scots was in a feud with England. By the time we reached Northumbria, we had barely been bothered since we usually kept off the main roads. I was the only one that could speak Saxon along with our home language of Gaelic, with Norse, French and German.

When we reached Northumbria when I was 17, our family had expanded with mother giving birth to another boy, Kian, and then a girl, Mollie. Father could speak basic English and some words in Norse. Callan could speak French while my younger siblings were still developing with Gaelic.  

After about a week of traveling, we were confronted by a group of King Aella’s soldiers. They were questioning my father on why were on the King’s land. That we were unwelcomed. We had no clue that England was in a feud with Scots (Gaelic speakers) at this point in time. My father didn’t understand and wanted me to translate but the soldiers were getting aggressive and would not let me speak.  

It happened so quick.

The soldier ran my father through with his sword.  

I was stunned and almost couldn’t move as I watched my father fall the ground.  

The sound of my mother and siblings screaming snapped me out of my thoughts. Clenching my jaw, I rushed forward towards the men that were reaching for my mother and siblings. I went for the smallest man, taking his wrist that was reaching for his sword and twisting it while my free hand simultaneously reached for his sword to pull it from his sheath. I twisted myself under his arm to put him an uncomfortable situation to put the sword through his armpit. ��

Two of the soldiers that had stood next to him had frozen in shock at the fact that I had downed one of the soldiers. I took the opportunity to slice at the one on the right, twisting as I swung. Blood poured from his neck and splattered onto my neck, face and chest.  

My mother took the distraction and ushered my siblings into the caravan and then stood behind it.  

I quickly turned to the other soldier, standing sideways as I bent back as he tried to stab me. I quickly swung the sword into the opening he gave me as he stumbled. I cut his side and then when he fell to his knees, I positioned myself behind him to grip his chin and taking the sword to his neck and slicing it.  

I locked eyes with the man that killed my father as I glared at the twinkle that gleamed in his eye.  Two more of the soldiers rushed forward and they stupidly both swung at my head, making me duck down and I lunged forward to slice both tendons at the back of the knees.  

One of them dropped one of their swords and I quickly picked it up. Twirling the swords in my hands so that I was holding them backwards I thrust the swords back, stabbing the soldiers in their necks.  

Pulling them out, I kept my breathing even, but I could feel the blood in my veins on fire as my energy kept up with my movements. I twirled the swords in my hands so that they were facing the right direction. I kept my eyes on the other soldiers in front of me. There were about eight more and I knew that the gods were not in my favor today, but I was not dying without a fight.  

The biggest soldier along with two more came forward and the big one swung hard.  

I jumped to the side to avoid the hit and then parried the soldier to his left.  

Eventually, I was grappled by the big one and his arms were wrapped around my arms and waist, crushing me and making me drop the swords.  

I was cursing him in Gaelic and English as I thrashed around in his hold before Mother’s yell caused my head to snap over.  

The leader had grabbed mother’s hair and had forced her to her knees and then put a dagger at her throat.  

Mother locked eyes with me. Both of us had tears trailing down our cheeks before her resolve hardened and she gritted her teeth.  

“Fear cuts deeper than swords.” She spoke to me in Gaelic. A saying we learned in Germany.  

Clenching her jaw, she closed her eyes just before the man sliced her throat.  

She gargled as he threw her to the ground while locking eyes with me.  

The sounds of my siblings' sobs along with any other sounds slowly disappeared from my senses as the only thing I felt was anger and devastation at this man killing both of my parents.  

My face scrunched up in pain and anguish before I screamed loud and then leaned forward as much as I could before knocking my head back into the head of the man holding me, I could hear a crunch of his nose breaking and he let me go as he reached up to his broken nose.

Diving for the sword at the ground, I was barely able to grab it before a boot covered the metal of the sword.  

Quickly looking up, the lead man looked down at me before he punched me in the face. Falling back, I was disoriented, and the taste of copper filled my mouth. Looking up, my eyes focused while blinking very slowly at the silhouette of the leader standing over me.  

I felt him grab at my tunic and him pulling me to sit up before he punched me again... Knocking me unconscious.  

[inmyfxith]

Iron mask

Summary: After having disappeared during the second attempt to siege Paris, you are finally reunited with part of your family.

Words: 1 688

The high windows of your bedroom let the sun entered and brightening all your room while you were sitting around a small table full of meat. You looked at your plate with a disgusted expression without even knowing why before being interrupted in your thought by someone knocking at your door.

You jumped before rushing to the iron mask on your bed, covering your face with it and your hair with a veil. You smiled softly when you saw your uncle Rollo walking towards you with a joyful expression on his face. Even if you perfectly knew how to speak like Franks, both of you always talked to each other in your native way of speak.

"Why are you smiling that way? Is your wife expecting another child?" you asked still looking at him while he settled himself at your table.

"Even if I would love to have another child, the news I'm bringing you is much better!" he said before pouring a glass of wine.

"My men had seen Viking ships near our coasts, they recognized your brother on one of them." You froze a moment before removing your mask to breathe better, trying to calm yourself as your heart was beating faster. Still sat, Rollo made a face looking at the scars which were running along your face as if he was trying to figure how much you would have suffered.

After a moment, your uncle stood up and knelt in front of you with a worried expression.

"I thought you would be happy to hear it." you raised your eyes to look at him.

"I'm glad to know that Bjorn is still alive but I'm also afraid of his reaction when he will see me again. Both he and my mother think I'm dead." Rollo put his hand on your arm before sitting next to you to be able to hold you against him.

"You're a strong member of his family, I'm sure he will be more than happy to know that you're still alive". You nodded softly before resting your head on his shoulder. Both of you stayed like this for a while before Rollo needed to return to his obligations.

As you were walking throughout the castle of the Duke of Normandy, you heard his voice.

"Bjorn, I have someone you know well inside of this castle and I want you to see my guest."

You were right behind the doors when they opened in front of you. Still wearing your mask and your veil, nobody could tell who you were not even your brother. In the small crowd of Northmen, you recognized many of your friends, Floki, Helga, King Harald, and Halfdan, so many people who were thinking of never seeing you again. Rollo made a move to invite you to come next to him. You walked in the middle of the alley made by the group of Vikings before stopping yourself next to your uncle.

He whispered in your ear that you could remove your mask when you will feel enough confident too. The impatience was beginning to show on Bjorn's features as he crossed his arms over his chest. Despite this, Floki spoke first.

"Who is she Rollo?" He asked approaching you, intrigued by your mask. Floki tried to touch it but you stepped back before his fingers could reach the wrought-iron covering your face.

"Give her time to remove her mask by herself, you won't regret it"

You took a deep breath, not sure what you were about to do. With a slow movement, you took off your veil, revealing your long hair for all to see. Holding your mask in one hand, you turned to Rollo.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you were whispering not to be heard by Bjorn and the other Vikings. They were getting impatient, but since they needed Rollo to continue their quest, they could not leave.

"It's about your decision".

Your breath became faster when you let the piece of iron falling on the ground. You didn't dare to look up, to meet the eyes of those who thought you were gone for years. Although your face had changed dramatically, your features remained relatively similar to what they once were. There was silence in the room for a long time before Helga, Floki's wife, approached you.

"We all thought you were dead." She said before taking you in her arms.

"I was. I walked between the golden doors of Odin's hall and the Helheim. This is a long story." As Helga slowly pulled away from you, your eyes met Bjorn's. You could see a form of anger in his eyes, he simply did not believe you.

Before accepting his proposal, Rollo let you spend time with your brother. Explaining to him every detail of the story, from your fall to your submission to the emperor Charles. Bjorn finally believed you.

You missed the fresh air of the sea. After his adventure in the Mediterranean, Bjorn had come back for you. Sailing to Kattegat, you took the opportunity to learn more about your little brother Hvitserk who seemed to have vague memories of you. Listening to him talk, you felt guilty for having missed so much. For not being there for them.

"I thought I would be afraid of going back on a ship but instead of that, I feel so much better than when I was in Rollo's castle." You explained to Helga who was braiding your hair as she usually did when you were young.

"The gods kept you alive for a reason, you're the daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok. As he and Bjorn, you need to travel." You nodded, Helga was right, you were one of those people who could not stay in one place for very long. Just like your mother, you were a shieldmaiden. The stories of the gods, of Viking battles and victories, had lulled your childhood.

The way back to Kattegat was pretty long but you didn't complain. All of you arrived As night began to fall, you saw Kattegat emerging from the horizon. You were home after more than ten years. Everything had changed and at the same time, Kattegat still seemed to be the town you grew up in.

Taking your hand in hers, Helga led you toward the Great Hall. She stopped behind Bjorn as he was about to open the doors. You didn't hear what your brother said, your eyes were too busy looking for familiar faces. Behind Bjorn, no one could see you.

"Mother, we met someone on our journey. Someone you know well." he stepped aside, leaving the crowd, and especially your mother, to find out who his mysterious guest was. Your mother's face became pale as if she had just seen a ghost appear before her.

"How can this even be possible?" she whispered against the fabric of your dress as she held you in her arms.

After a while, the warriors in the crowd welcomed you like an old friend returning from a long journey. Several people asked you for details about what had happened to you.

"On my father's boat in Paris, during our last battle, I was fighting alongside my fierce mother and my brave brother against the Franks. The battle was hard and due to a lack of attention, a Frank warrior transpierced my body with his sword." As you told your story, you stroked the scar on your abdomen with your fingertips. "I did not die. I fell on my knee and the last thing I can remember from that day is the image of a frank hitting me on the head with the pommel of his sword. This man offered the beautiful scars you can see on my face. I began my fight against death on the water, I was ready to die and did not have fear of it either. It was not the day for me to join my friends and all the warriors in Odin's hall. I dreamed of the woods that border the city. I was walking through them, researching something and, I finally saw them. The golden doors of Valhalla. The laughter and shouts of the warriors drew me to them, but as I moved forward, they closed in on me. Odin himself came near to me, he told me that he had been the only one able to change his destiny and that he did not allow me to do the same. He showed me two ways, one full of pains and suffering to come back on Midgard, and another which was leading right to the Helheim." You looked down before grinning.

"And you perfectly know what way I chose." Hvitserk, who was drinking your words as well as the other warriors and non-warriors in the room, asked you how you ended in Rollo's castle.

"I woke up on the grass near a river named the Seine. Some farmers found me. They helped me to recovered enough to be able to speak and walk before guiding me to the only Viking they knew. I will not lie to you, Rollo didn't want to see me return to Kattegat and I was too weak to refuse and to take a boat on my own."

"So you became a Christian." a young man you recognized as being your other brother Ivar interrupted you.

"I did not. I just learned to speak and to imitate them to stay alive. I'm not a Christian as long as I still believe in Odin, Thor, and Freyr. For more than ten years I have been forced to hide behind a mask not to chocked the people. Now, I can be myself. I survived to death, Odin in person told me that it was not my day to went away. I swear on everything I had that I will use my time and my strength to protect Kattegat and all of you."

You smiled when you heard the people screaming of joy, then you turned to your mother who was sitting on her throne, a proud expression on her face.

[ofmanderley]

UBBE RAGNARSSON - VIKINGS S5, EP3.

[myscxllanxous]

Confessing your love for Rollo. Requested by: @aureliusm

She didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. She was sobbing as she was made to put her dress on and she was sobbing as she had her hair done. She didn’t want to marry him. But I did. I sighed as I walked passed her, picking up the flowers and placing them where they needed to be. She continued to sob. Something she did whenever she was told she would have to marry him or speak to him or be his wife. They would have to act as if they were in love and there was nothing she could do to stop that because her father said so. “I don’t want to.” She cried, as a woman straightened her dress. No one said anything because no one can change what she must do. “You,” she points at me, “you know him. You know how much of a beast he is. Speak with him. Tell him I will give him anything he wants if he just goes. If he leaves I will give him anything he wants.” I was caught off guard and simply nodded as I walked out the door. Rollo doesn’t want anything but to marry a princess and become something greater than his brother. He will accomplish that here in Frankia, something that he will never be able to do in Kattegat while his brother is King. I knocked on the door gently, pushing it open as Rollo leaned against a post reading something. He looked handsome. Different and more confident. His hair was shorter and he looked as if he’d bathed and the stench of ale was nowhere on him. “Rollo?” I called. “Oh, a familiar face.” He smiled. He decided to spare me for some reason when he decided to betray his brother. I was a free woman, and now I am made to serve his wife. “She does not want to marry you.” I blurt, instantly putting my hand over my mouth and staring at the ground. “She has told me to tell you that… that she will give you anything you want if you leave and never come back.” “But I want to be here.” He says. “I do not want to leave. I want to here and protect Frankia from Ragnar when he comes, and he will.” “She will be unhappy, Rollo. She will not be like Siggy-“ His shoulders hunch and he grimaces as he strides towards me and goes to put his hand around my neck but stops. “Or like you?” He says quietly. “Don’t think I have not seen the disgusted look you give her when she asks for something.” I take a step back and straighten my shoulders. “I was a free woman, Rollo.” I say defensively. “Do not mistake this for something it is not. I am a servant because of you and your betrayal and the only reason I have stayed is to- is to…” “Is to, what?” He asks sternly. “To watch you. So, you do not get yourself killed.” He shakes his head. Not believing it for a second. “I stay because I cannot bare to go back to Kattegat without you.” My eyes drop and I find comfort in holding my hands. “She will give you everything she wants if you leave.” He steps forward, grazing his fingers across my cheek. “But I want to marry her and become King.” A tear slips down my cheek as I push his hand away from me and step back. “And make me be her servant? I love you Rollo Lothbrok. And you will make me watch her hate you?” “It is better than being dead, is it not?” He says simply, striding to the table and taking a chalice of wine. I scoff and turn my back, slamming the door as I leave and wiping away the tears that fell. Getting closer to her chambers, I can hear her still crying.