#save king aelle!
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teamivankaye · 2 months ago
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Fan question: Which characters would the #Vikings cast members save? - But without spoilers beyond Season 3, please! 😂👌 And Ivan wasn't exactly on board with everyone wanting to save George - Jefferson Hall not either. 😜😂👑 Sorry about the blurred image, I'm SO annoyed by it myself because Ivan's expressions were gold - but the camera auto focus reacted to anyone in the audience who walked past in front of my camera. 😑 Yes, I need to get MUCH closer next time. Anyway, wish you a good start to the week! 😊
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#IvanKaye #GermanFilmComicCon #VikingsPanel #KingAelle #HistoryVikings #VikingsCast #WhoToSave #JeffersonHall #AlexHoeghAndersen #GeorgeBlagden #RaggaRagnars #AliciaAgneson #GeorgiaHirst #GermanComicCon #ComicCon #MondayMotivation
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queenstormbornn · 3 years ago
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I think Lagertha not dying in 4X10 truly changed the future of Vikings. Hirst's decision to keep her character alive stopped the characters and show from growing & here's why:
1. Ragnar's eight-year disappearance would've made more sense. We know that Ragnar was a drug addict, ashamed of his defeat in Paris, and was tired of ruling/being king, but it didn't seem enough for him to abandon his sons and kingdoms for eight years. We knew Ragnar was upset with Lagertha for putting her unborn child at risk and was there to mourn with her when she miscarried. If Lagertha would've died in 4X10 --- I think Ragnar would've felt guilty for not being able to save her as his main focus was on killing his brother, Rollo. I believe Lags death would've put a lot of things into perspective for Ragnar and realize that he led hundreds/thousands of Vikings to their deaths because of his selfishness/obsession.
2. Bjorn's change in character should've happened IF and only IF Lagertha would've died. Hirst writing Bjorn into this walking joke never sat right with me. Obviously, he was still heartbroken over Porrun's abandonment, but he didn't treat Torvi like crap until 4B. If Lags would've died -- I could've gotten behind Bjorn's dramatic transition, plus it would've been cool to see Bjorn blaming his father for his mother's death. Really see Bjorn angry at Ragnar again like when he was a child.
3. The sons of Ragnar never got to live up to their full potential. It would've been so cool to see the sons of Ragnar fighting together in England instead of fighting against each other for the remainder of the series. Hirst's main focus should've been about the sons of Ragnar like he had originally planned when writing the show. It would've been cool to see Bjorn become King of Sweden, Sigurd marrying King Aelle's daughter and becoming a Danish King, Hvitserk becoming a bad-ass warrior and pillaging with the Rus, and Ubbe either being a commander or discovering new land (because I didn't mind his storyline) and Ivar becoming a King.
As much as I love Lagertha -- I do think her surviving caused more bad than good for the future of the show. What do you all think?
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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years ago
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Falling Together Part II
Author’s Note: So glad I’ve dove head first into this fandom, you guys are so welcoming and enthusiastic! There will be 2 more parts before this comes to its natural end. Also if you want to be tagged, or I missed you, please let me know.
Part 1
Pairing: Ivar x Reader Word count: 3213
Warnings: None "Are you still feeling sorry for yourself?" Hvitserk prodded, breaking the silence in the warm afternoon. 
Ivar had agreed to go fishing with his brother to clear his head, but between the lack of bites and Hvitserk's questions, there was little peace to be had. He had tossed away his line, and had sprawled out on the dock, falling back into his dark thoughts. Since your argument, you had made your presence scarce. You always managed to be gone before he woke at dawn, and you no longer took meals in the Great Hall. If he managed to catch a glimpse of you in a day it was something worth bragging about. 
Hvitserk let out a huff as he threw his line down. "I'm sure you're not the first man to accuse his wife of being a whore."
Ivar glared at his brother, tempted to push him into the water. "I was only going by what you told me."
"Hey, I told you to fuck her, not to accuse her of laying with any man who gives her trinkets," Hvitserk said between chuckles. "Speaking of which, I saw the boy Einarr the other day. You'd better watch yourself, or you could have a real rival eight years from now."
Hvitserk knew just what to say to make him feel like the foolish boy who crawled around Kattegat again. The boy, who just wanted to keep up with his brothers. He was a King now, but sometimes he still felt like he was chasing after their greatness. Letting out a grunt of frustration, he threw his dagger at Hvitserk's foot, just shy of sticking through the toe of his boot.
Hvitserk leapt back, and shot him an incredulous look. "I hope you don't show that same temper to your wife. She's a delicate Christian flower, not a fishmonger's daughter."
Ivar froze as he felt his back stiffen, and Hvitserk appeared to realize his mistake. "I would never harm her."
"I know that, Ivar," Hvitserk murmured, brushing his hand through his hair. "I...shit. I'm sorry for that."
The sincerity was there, and Ivar believed him, but his mind had traveled far back into a different life. He could still feel the strength of his grip, hear her struggling gasps, and see the love go out of her eyes when he took the breath out from her body. Love was a misery, and it only seemed to bring him grief. His mother and father, Freydis and Baldr, even Sigurd. Perhaps he had done you a kindness by mistake.
He had been the one that had refused all attempts at bonding between you, so it seemed ridiculous that he had chosen this instance to resent the distance. It was your talk of a marriage not needing love that had gotten to him. After Freydis, he was certain he wouldn't fall in love again, but that didn't mean his heart didn't crave it. Marriage should not be a loveless thing, not after he'd seen what it did to his mother. He wasn't in love with you, but he did not want your hatred either.
"What should I do?" Ivar asked aloud, desperate enough that he looked to Hvitserk for the answer. 
"Get her a gift, and apologize."
Ivar frowned. "What kind of gift?"
"Ask her yourself," said Hvitserk, looking over his shoulder. "She's coming this way."
You were indeed coming down the path to the wharf, a guard on either side. Ivar thought you would be wearing a scowl, but you were as poised as Frigg, with no trace of animosity to be found. You indicated for your guards to remain back as you approached the brothers. Hvitserk chose that moment to reach down and pull the stuck knife from the wood. You had caught the act, even growing a smile at it.
"What did you do to warrant a dagger to the foot, Hvitserk?" You teased.
"I'm not the best advisor," He reasoned. "That's probably why it's not my job."
You chuckled freely, all while Ivar kept his gaze away to the water. "Indeed. May I borrow my husband for a moment?"
Ivar gazed up at his brother for help, who shrugged as a reply. "Of course. Guess I'll go find myself some trouble."
"Take them with you. They look far too bored without my company," You said of your guards before taking a seat on the dock beside Ivar. Once Hvitserk was far enough away, you spoke again. "When I was a young girl, I used to run down to the water instead of practicing my needlework. A languid sunrise was all the beauty I needed, and I would watch the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ship coming into the havens."
Ivar listened to your leisured words, recalling a time when he would also go down to the shores of Kattegat. Sometimes he imagined it would be his father returning from exile on one of the ships that made port, but as he grew older, it crossed his mind less until he abandoned the wish entirely. His father had good reason to stay away, and Ivar sometimes wondered if it would have been better had he never returned.
"What do you want, wife?" He was tired and the reminiscing about things better left forgotten put him into a sour state.  
"I've come to the conclusion that we cannot remain parted like this forever, and as I told you before, the people talk," You said, smiling at him. Ivar had forgotten what it felt like to have a woman's eyes on him that way, and it commanded his whole attention. "I listened, and decided what would be best is for the people to see their King and Queen together."
"Is that the only reason?" He tested.
"No." You paused to adjust your skirts, and you shifted closer, sitting in a manner that should have been unbecoming of a Queen, but was endearing in its frankness. "I feel there are things that I don't know about you, but I believe your regret to be sincere."
"It was."
You stared at him with something akin to concern. "You were married once before me, weren't you?"
Ivar narrowed his eyes, hating the vast change of the conversation, and how you had sprung him into a trap, like a rabbit to a snare. "Yes."
"I see," You said, and after pausing a moment, you did not say more on the matter.
With your gaze set on the ocean, Ivar was able to take his time regarding you. Hvitserk was right, you were beautiful. You did not resemble the icy nordic women he had been surrounded by, nor were you like any of the English ladies who coward from his men. You were shades of a dark, stormy night, but also the fairness of a pale morning bathed in sunlight. He should be proud to walk alongside you.
When you caught him looking, you mistook what he had been fixated on. You plucked at the bracelet on your wrist as your mouth twisted into a frown.
"If it bothers you, I can get rid of it."
"Your silence bothers me," said Ivar. "You are my wife, I do not want you to be meek."
You burst into giggles, "Is that how you see me?"
"No, I see that you are a warrior who doesn't resort to the sword. This strength you have has earned you the title to be Queen."
"My father's insistence that I marry you made me Queen, but that is kind of you to say," You shifted to face him head on, and Ivar appreciated how you held his stern look. "Why did you agree to marry me? My father's lands are not widespread, you could have easily lorded over us with the warriors you have. It could have saved you the trouble of being tied to a Christian."
"My intentions to raid have not changed, but an alliance in a foreign land is its own valuable treasure. My father had done the same with King Ecbert, but not until he had made an enemy of King Aelle first. I won't make the same mistake," Ivar explained as he watched your loose curls dance in the sea breeze. You did not braid your hair, and it was longer than any woman's in Kattegat. Not to be distracted by your grace, he steeled his gaze, and continued to speak. "As for having you as a wife, I think you know that I find you to be an accomplished Queen, and an acceptable partner."
"Acceptable? Quit with that flattery husband, or I might swoon," You quipped with an eye roll.
"I would enjoy that."
Ivar took pleasure in how you flustered, mouth stuck open and not quite sure how to respond. You were often brash, so he forgot you were still a virgin until your shy side reared. It made his heart speed up to a gallop, a feeling he had almost forgotten. 
You were swift to change the direction of the topic back to neutral ground, but the faint pink still dusted your cheeks. "Would you like to walk with me? The people used to enjoy seeing my parents together when they would stroll the city."
Ivar recalled how his parents would interact with the people of Kattegat, though not often together. He understood your reasoning though, and clenching his jaw, he propelled his stiff body up with the aid of his crutch. You were at his side, hands hovering in the air to give him assistance in a moment's notice if he needed. Ivar waved you back, used to doing everything alone. He couldn't explain it, but it was important to him that you did not see him weak.
As you both started up the path, you placed your hand tentatively through Ivar's arm. The gesture startled him, but he managed to keep his footing. After a while of walking, he decided he liked the warmth of your touch. You remained tight to his side, and the people, yours and his, appeared delighted as you strode through the streets. 
The people of Kattegat had never looked at him with anything other than disdain, pity, and fear. He preferred this new change, bringing him closer to continuing his father's legacy as a worthy King. Ivar didn't share any more words with you, but instead chose to enjoy your quiet presence beside him. He was going to follow Hvitserk's advice about giving you a gift, if only to see you blush again. First though, he needed to decide what you would like.
ooOOoo
After that day by the water, your relationship with your husband changed. All of your games of avoidance stopped, and had been replaced with Ivar's new habit of teasing you. He seemed to like how perturbed you would get, or how red your face would become. You still had not consummated the marriage, but you had begun to share a bed.
The first time you had stayed in your shared chambers had been the last time you had been in your private wing. You had stayed up late, completing your correspondence when Ivar had returned. He had seemed surprised to find you awake, but had struck up a conversation that led you to sitting down beside him on the bed. Sleep had come, and by morning you'd awoken next to your husband for the first time.
When you had stirred, the morning was still young, and there was a quiet in the air that could only be found at the birth of a new day. You were facing towards Ivar and when you opened your eyes you found him toying with your hair. He gave you a coy smile at being caught, but he was not deterred from his actions, and you let him continue until the responsibilities of leading called him away.
Touching was something new that you had both slowly eased into your relationship. Brief grazes of skin, and gentle caressing was becoming something of a routine between you. Ivar's hands were tough and warm, but he was careful with you, as if something held him back. For all of his abrasive shortcomings, he was rather shy and boyish when it came to anything intimate. You were tempted by your viking husband, and your carnal thoughts were at war with your Christian values. You wanted him to push passed that barrier of gentleness and make you a woman. 
There was also the matter of things left unsaid between you. You wanted to ask about his first wife, but each time you came close to speaking up, you would recall the crestfallen look that had twisted his face when you had brought it up to begin with. Hvitserk would know, but that was a line you promised you wouldn't cross. He would tell you one day, so there wasn't much point in dwelling on it.
"(Y/N)," Ivar said, and you jolted up on the bed, not expecting his presence. 
"Hello," You greeted, closing your book as you sat upright. "Have you come to join me?"
"Yes," He replied before hesitating. "I have something for you. Can you close your eyes a moment?"
You shot him a suspicious glance. "What is this, Ivar?"
"Trust me."
He disappeared before you could say anything more. You breathed out a laugh 'Trust me' he says. Ivar did not have a face full of integrity, and you wondered how many people had been deceived by the one called Boneless.
You closed your eyes as he requested, and waited for his return. It was not long until he came back to the door, stopping outside as he called to you.
"Are your eyes closed?"
"Yes, husband," You answered, growing impatient. 
You listened to each careful step as Ivar approached the bed, and felt the familiar dip as his weight joined you.
"Hold out your hands," He told you, his voice close.
You wrinkled your nose, but did as he asked. What could he want to give you? You couldn't understand the sudden display of generosity, or his reasoning that called for a gift. Husbands gave presents to their wives of course, but you didn't think you and Ivar had that kind of marriage.
Just as you were tempted to peek, something warm and wiry was dropped into your lap. It wriggled with life, and your eyes shot open to find a wolf hound pup circling around in your arms. A pleasant surprise indeed. You ran your fingers through thick, coarse hair the color of iron, and the hound's tail thumped wildly.
You couldn't fight the elation on your face as you turned to look up to Ivar's. He had been watching for your reaction, and you thought you spotted relief in his eyes. 
"What did I do to deserve this?" You asked while your new gift started to squirm in your lap.
"For being patient and forgiving. Our marriage started with us as strangers, but I know now that you are too impressive a Queen to go unappreciated."
The fluttery feeling was back, flooding you with warmth. You no longer fought it back, even welcoming it if you were honest with yourself. When you were alone together, Ivar was different with you. Though you were not in love yet, you had compassion for your husband, and found yourself thinking about him during quiet moments of the day. You didn't think he loved you either, but he had his own way of showing he cared.
"Thank you for bringing him to me," You said softly. With one hand you held the hound to your chest, and with the other you reached for Ivar.
"Forgive me for what I said before. You are too respectable and dutiful to be any of the things I accused you of. I'm not sure why I said them," He said as he accepted your hand.
"I already forgave you for that, Ivar."
Sometimes you could see what was in his heart, and the hurt look on his face reminded you of a lost child. It had to be his first wife. You didn't know how to help him, and it made you want to scream for the truth if it would make him forget. But you also knew if you pushed him on the matter, he would start to pull away again, and you had only just begun to feel like a real wife.
"Ivar," You called for him, bringing him back to you from wherever his thoughts had taken him. His pain was something that you couldn't mend, but maybe you could help him move forward.
You shuffled closer until your leg pressed up against his. He looked uncertain as you placed your free hand upon his face. You were just going to place a kiss on his cheek, but at the last second he turned to catch your lips with his. It was soft and slow, and the perfect first kiss with your husband. Ivar had a tentative grasp of your hip with his arm around your waist, and you leaned into his chest. 
A whimper escaped from the pup whom you had forgotten was still in your hold. He was being squished between you and Ivar, and you pulled back with a sigh.
"Sorry boy," You murmured, giving him a scratch on the ears. 
Your hand was still braced against your husband, and he had not removed his arm from around you. The chambers grew stuffy, and the boldness from the kiss faded into heady unrest.
"You'll need to give him a name," Ivar spoke up after a while. 
He started to remove his braces, and you got up from the bed to grab extra furs for your new hound to sleep on.
"I will," You said as you started to make a place at the end of the bed for the dog to sleep. "We used to have many dogs when I was growing up. My mother used to say naming a pet was as difficult as naming a child, so I'll make sure to take my time to get it right. "
Ivar smirked as he pulled himself under the furs. He was still careful not to reveal his legs, and you wouldn't push the issue. You were still too shy to be naked in his presence as well, especially with how much time had passed since you were supposed to share a bed on your wedding night.
"I like your stories. You grew up with pleasant memories," He said.
Once you got the pup settled, you joined Ivar in bed. "Don't you have fond memories of growing up?"
"With three older brothers, and an absent father? No, my childhood was spent fighting to survive and finding a place to belong. If not for my mother, I would've died young."
You had your head propped up on your arm, and you were facing Ivar as he laid flat on his back. "I wish I could have met her then. Mothers should be merciful towards their children."
Ivar craned his neck to stare at you, a subtle reverence behind his eyes, "(Y/N), can I kiss you again?"
You scurried closer until your noses touched. "Yes," You whispered. 
And he did.
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inmyfxith · 4 years ago
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My King
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Pairing: Ivar x shieldmaiden!reader
Summary: You are a respected shieldmaiden from Kattegat and when the time came, you make the decision of following Ivar instead of Lagertha.
Words: 918
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 The silent came into the great hall when Lagertha asked you toward who your allegiance would go. Did it go to her or to Aslaug’s sons? You were a respected shieldmaiden in Kattegat, everybody knew you and your family and people also knew that you were a good leader by making the right choice. Sat on her throne, Lagertha was looking at you, waiting for your answer. You approached her before bending the knee in front of her chair of royalty. You smirked when you stood up. 
"I don't know many  things but the gods allowed me to dream last night. The first time since years and years and you know what, I saw the man that I could call my king without any shame. He was able to scare all his enemies with only a gaze even in front of the golden doors of Valhalla, to elaborate strategies worthy of Odin himself. My king had the strength of Thor and the deviousness of Loki. He conquered a lot of lands. He had ambition and determination as no one. He was and he is the only man I would follow until my death. He was… King Ivar the boneless" While you were saying your last sentence, you turned to face Aslaug’s youngest son who was as shocked as all the people in the room. 
You approached him and knelt in front of him as you just do in front of Lagertha but now the expression on your face was more serious. You knew that many men of your family would follow you in your choice, since you were a woman able to fight alongside men, you always served Ragnar’s family with bravery and loyalty. You pull out your sword and present it to Ivar. 
“My blade and my life are yours until the day I would pass away. I promise you to never betray you and if that happened one day I asked you to kill me because that would mean that I lost my mind. I have nothing to offer to you except my loyalty and my strength. I will fight for you, alongside you if you allow me to do so.” 
You heard Lagertha sighed behind your back, she was angry and disgusted because knowing you with Ivar would be a huge problem for her. You were one of the only women she knew that could fight an army of men and stay alive. You stood up and you saw Ivar smirked and looking at Lagertha with a proud smile. You knew that if Ivar asked you to kill Lagertha right here right now you would have taken your sword and fought her until one of you saw Valkyries bringing the other to Valhalla. But he just asked you to be ready for when he would need you. A simple look to your father awarded you that he was angry with your choice but you were old enough to make your own decisions.
The time to avenge Ragnar’s death came, you follow your family in England and fight bravely in battles. Always having an eye on Ivar and killing several enemies who were in his way. As the days passed, you became more and more concerned about his health, not letting anyone approach him without seeing you before to be sure that no one would kill him under your nose and your effort seemed to please the boneless. You didn’t have his confiance but he knew that you were loyal to him as you were to his father and also to his mother when Ragnar disappeared. You felt guilty when Lagertha killed Aslaug because you were not here to help your queen, to save her therefore you promise you to never left her beloved son without a good protection. After avenging Ragnar, after the blood eagle torture on King Aelle and the agreement with King Ecbert, you joined the other vikings in the banquet organised to celebrate the victory. You were sitting on King Harald and his brother’ table where you heard Ivar arguing with his brother Sigurd. You never truly liked Sigurd because he was always disrespecting your king, when his tone became loud enough to be heard by everyone you stood up and took your sword. 
“Keep your mouth shut or I will assure myself to you never sing again” You were ready to walk over him but you were stopped by Bjorn who told you to don’t talk to him like that and to sit down again if you didn’t want to have more trouble.
“I don’t receive my order from you Bjorn Ironside, if my king wants me to sit I will sit but if he wants me to jump next to him and to kill this idiot who is disrespecting him I will do it with or without your consent.” Bjorn frowned before looking at Ivar who was frowning too. He made a sign to order you to stay outside of his argument and you listened to him but you didn’t sit again, you stayed next to the few stairs to be sure to be here if things turned out badly. 
It took you only a second to understand that things would be different when you saw the axe planting on Sigurd’s chest. This evening you came to Ivar's tent and you told him that no one would ever disrespect him again or even harm him because you would be here for him everytime he would need you by his side.
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phenomenal1500 · 4 years ago
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Melt The Ice In My Heart | Vikings
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Chapter 16: When Heaven Falls 
For Chapter 15: My Old Prison click here
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I was pulled along with Ragnar and he shook his head at me. "Never put yourself in danger like that."
"No, but putting you best friend in danger is much better?" Ragnar examined his surrounding before lowering his head.
"You're right." He sighed before we together killed off the last few Christians attacking us to retrieve our victory.
~~~
In the silence and recovery that followed the battle, King Horik and Erlendur tried to tend to the injured Ari, and I knew he was a lost cause. Meanwhile everyone tried to help one another, I leaned against the tree behind Athelstan, seeing Ragnar approaching us and while seeking support on the shoulder of Athelstan he sat down next to the new born Viking.
"You did not hesitate today." Ragnar praised a quiet Athelstan for not hesitating for killing his former people and I smiled softly when I noticed what Ragnar pulled out of his pocket. "Take it, if you want."
Ragnar wanted to give him his arm ring, which Athelstan accepted and probably was going to wear proudly. I always had a small feeling Ragnar would gift him the arm ring and I was happy to see it happen before my eyes. It was not long before Ragnar got up with a sigh of pain and helped Athelstan raise to his feet as well, then after offered his hand to me to walk with them. I wasn't sure for what I had to join them, but I had nothing else to do in these beautiful yet gloomy times so I just followed the two men. I wandered through the leaves a bit with my feet and Ragnar suddenly held onto a dismembered head of a soldier when I looked up again then I understood he took us with him to interrogate two of the survivors.
Athelstan asked them, in a mutual language, where they were from and through the soldiers, we learned that we found ourselves in the middle of a kingdom called Wessex, and that their king was King Ecbert, whose reputation was noticeable known to Athelstan.
"Where are we? This is not Northumbria. You are not King Aelle's men?"
"No. We are not." Athelstan quickly checked Ragnar before swallowing while speaking up in his language that I understood a little after my imprisonment.
"What is the name of this kingdom?"
"This is Wessex."
"Wessex?" I was not fully listening as I was mostly focused on the difficult breathing of the man on the ground next to me. One of the English warriors was still weakly alive and I tilted my head to look at him. He was unknown to me, but I turned his body around when I got down on my knees to see him from a good angle. The man couldn't speak, but I knew he was softly begging for him to be killed and slowly and quietly I snapped his neck, making Ragnar slap my back gently when I got back up. It seemed that he had witnessed the scene.
"Yes."
"So your king is King Ecbert?"
"Yes, our king is King Ecbert. Have you heard of him? Have you heard of him?"
"I have heard many things about him."
"Everything you heard is true." It looked like Ragnar had some sort of angry tone to his face, but was also quite curious about this new king of Wessex that made him focus his blue eyes on Athelstan's.
"What have you heard about King Ecbert?" Athelstan hesitated for a moment and kicked a stone away with his foot as he looked at the ground, but answered anyway as I nodded to just tell the man. I thought it was strange how the warriors spilled everything without any torture or harmful manners, I saw it as being weak, but of course they wanted to save their own life so I could somehow understand why they did it, although I may not believe that Ragnar or King Horik would let the men go.
"That he's just like you." It was not long before Athelstan led the way through the forest, afterwards we decided what happened with the warriors. We had chosen Athelstan to lead the way because he was of course the one who knew the most about all these kingdoms which I thought was logical and had voted for the idea of him helping us while some hated him and were against him because he could might 'set us up'. I knocked away a few branches so they wouldn't get in my face and heard someone behind me screaming in pain from a branch coming into his face and I quickly walked next to Ragnar so that it seemed like I had never walked in front of the man.
"What is that place?" We all looked down on the beautiful large green meadow and the wild life that lived on it, while behind it stood a large surrounded place with a high wall made out of big rocks. Even a greater surrounded place than I had seen in my captivity. Questions quickly began to arise that other people asked Athelstan.
"It's a Christian church, a minster. A large one. It may be Winchester." He explained as Ragnar gazed at the high buildings rising from behind the walls.
"Is it important?"
"If it is Winchester, Saint Birinus is buried there. It's a place of great pilgrimage."
"And will there be treasure there?" Horik interfered and I smiled. If it was important then yes it would have many treasures, but he didn't seem to find the link.
"Yes. A lot of treasure." Athelstan confirmed while chuckling a bit and I nodded at Floki who seemed the most enthusiastic of us all. We were ready to go into battle and wanted to pay tribute to our dead who had fallen to get us where we are now.
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malenamoonlight · 4 years ago
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My Vikings headcanon, besides Lagertha and Aslaug dumping Ragnar and marrying each other, is:
Ivar, not Bjorn, is Ragnar and LAGERTHA son.
After Ragnar becomes the Earl of Kattegat, Lagertha gave birth to a disabled child, Ivar, causing a huge disappointment in Ragnar's heart. He resented Lagertha for it and got scared that the child might be a bad sign from the gods. So, after going to Uppsala and asking the gods about the woman who's going to bear his sons, he meets Princess Aslaug in one of his expeditions throughout the country, get her pregnant and then she gives birth to a healthy and strong baby, Bjorn.
Ragnar interprets Bjorn's birth as a sign... a sign from the gods. So, he decides to abandon Lagertha, Gyda and Ivar, to marry Princess Aslaug, who gives him more sons, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd.
In the meantime, Gyda dies, Lagertha get married to Earl Sigvard and Ivar grows smart, clever and good on war tactics, but he has a lot of anger towards Ragnar and his brothers. He feels rejected and betrayed by his father. He suffers for his mother's pain and for the lost of his sister. He blames his father for all that disgrace and he cries out for revenge, cursing Ragnar and his family.
And the story follows as in the show, with Lagertha and Ivar saving Ragnar's ass, helping him take back Kattegat from Jarl Borg. They go to England and Paris together, and Ivar, a disabled boy, but a very capable warrior, tries to prove himself to Ragnar all the time, and him and Bjorn are always disputing his father's attention and admiration. A feud starts between the two brothers, a glimpse of what lies ahead.
And then we land in season 4b...
Ragnar dies in England. He and Bjorn, who joined him in his final mission, are captured by King Aelle. Bjorn manages to escape, but not Ragnar, who gets killed by the king.
During the long time of Ragnar's absence, the rivalry between Ivar and his younger brothers increased, with Bjorn and his mother, Aslaug, taking care of the realm.
When Bjorn returns from England, he discovers that Lagertha and Ivar had invaded Kattegat and killed Aslaug. His brothers escaped safely and they were now waiting for Bjorn to come.
In Lagertha's mind, taking Kattegat from Aslaug and her sons was a way to secure Ivar's precedence over Kattegat throne.
In Ivar's mind, he's the true Ragnar's heir... The despised son who overcomes the abandonment and his father's rejection and becomes the king. His mother Lagertha, serves as Queen Regent during in his absence.
But the Ragnarssons needed to avenge their father's death...
At the beginning, Ivar refused to help his brothers campaign  against King Aelle, but Lagertha persuaded him to join them. Bjorn really needed his older brother assistance, after all, Ivar was now a famous war commander and a brilliant tactician. And he had boats and warriors. And then they followed to England and got their revenge.
And then the war between brothers starts...
You know what... no.
Here's my finale...
The brothers part ways. 
Ivar becomes king in Ireland. Freydis is his queen. They have a son, Baldur, the gods miracle.
Bjorn and his husband Halfdan the Black sail away, seeking for new adventures and lands. 
Hvitserk marries a girl named Thora and they settle in England. They founded a cult in honor of the goddess Idu there. 
Sigurd returns to Kattegat and find out that Lagertha abandoned all and ran off with a woman, Astrid. They never heard about them again.
Ubbe, Torvi and the children, Guthrum, Ali, Asa and little Ragnar, decide to become farmers in the Golden Land, fulfilling Ragnar’s dream (hahahaha).
Finally, Sigurd snake- in- the-eye becomes the King of Kattegat and he proudly sings about his mother, the daughter of Sigurd, the dragon slayer, and Brynhildr, the Valkyrie.
The End.
But serious, that was wild... hahahaha
I don’t know... I just think that Ivar being the eldest son would have made more sense in several aspects of the story, like the trauma of being abandoned by his father, more time to show us how he deals with his own disability, his knowledge in war tactics, his anger and ruthlessness. And him and Lagertha are two impulsive and extravagant rulers... lol.
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shannygoatgruff · 5 years ago
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The World Over
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Genre:  Vikings/GOT Crossover Fan Fiction
Rating: MA – violence, language, strong sexual content
Summary: Ivar the Boneless and Daenerys Targaryen find themselves unlikely allies. But each has something that the other needs to get them what they want. He has the tactical skill to take her all the way to Kings Landing. She has the dragon army that will give him all of England, possibly Norway. Will they be each other's savior or demise?
A/N:  I have been writing fanfiction for years, but I lost my muse. I finally found it again in Alex Høgh Andersen.  I am obsessed with him and his character, Ivar. 
In my perfect world, Ivar would be on Game of Thrones.  This is my attempt to fix the horrible ending to one of my favorite shows and these two worlds together.
My timelines for both shows are NOT accurate.  They are not meant to be – I have to do a lot of finessing to make everything turn out the way I want it to.
With that, I hope you enjoy.
Ivar The Terrible
The voyage from Kattegat to England took roughly three weeks by ship. Twenty-one days seemed like a brief time passing for the Great Army, led by Björn Ironside and his brothers, to travel from their home to kill King Aelle of Northumbria. 
Early spring had brought minimally choppy waters. The weather was warm enough during the day to require the Viking horde to only require wool and leathers, and at night, light furs.
The gods had blessed them with only two small storms during their entire voyage to the land of the Christians. Neither storm had been so severe that any member of their party took ill, or any of their supplies were damaged. Odin had shown the Vikings great favor as they set out to avenge their fallen King.
King Ragnar Lothbrok was the most famous Viking in all of Scandinavia. He had returned to England the year before the Great Army set sail, with his youngest son, Ivar. Ragnar had returned to question his friend, King Ecbert, on why he had slaughtered the entire Viking settlement that had been allowed to remain and farm in Wessex.  
It had always been Ragnar’s dream to farm on lush and fertile grounds, and the soil in England provided just that.  The weather there was moist and the winds carried the smell of freshly turned soil. Viking farmers were destined to turn a good crop there.  
Farming in Norway had grown harsher. The soil was sandy and the weather was cold. Not much vegetation grew there – not enough to sustain their ever-growing population. The gods had blessed the Northmen with the ability to grow crops to feed their livestock, and the meat from those animals fed their villages. But Ragnar wondered how long would that last? The soil in Kattegat had been turned too many times. The gods gave him visions of moving his people to somewhere more fruitful, where they could farm and continue their way of life.
But, the god Loki had too much in store for the once-simple farmer.  He had grown Ragnar’s ambitions too strong.  Sent him on too many raids.  Forced him into making too many enemies and shedding too much bloodshed.  Before Ragnar realized it in his quest for power and gain, he lost his daughter and unborn son; his wife and son, Björn, had left him and he had four additional sons with a woman he did not love.
Broken, defeated, and estranged, Ragnar removed himself from everything and everyone.  And upon his return, the only one of his sons to accept him wholeheartedly was the one son he had cast away.  
Ivar the Boneless. 
It had taken nearly 16 winters for Ragnar to forge a relationship with his youngest son, the boy that he had tried to leave in the woods to be killed by the elements or taken by wildlife. But on the trip to Wessex, Ragnar and Ivar finally bonded. It was during that trip, that Ragnar Lothbrok was killed by the Christians, but not before he told Ivar to avenge him.
That is exactly what the youngest of the sons of Ragnar had done.
Ivar and his brothers had put together the greatest Viking army the world had ever seen to travel across the great sea to personally deliver all of those who had a hand in killing their father to the goddess Hel. 
But, it seemed that Loki had just as much in store for the younger Lothbroks as the elder.
Now, all but two of the brothers' Lothbrok found themselves on separate ships heading back to their home in Kattegat. Already at sea for more than three weeks, they seemed no closer to home then they had when he set sail 30 days ago.
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"You are certain we are still on the course to Kattegat?" Ivar sat perched atop a treasure chest pushed up against the left side of the langskip. He had a thick rope used to raise and lower the sails wrapped around his arm to help keep him grounded to his spot. "We should all be enjoying a tall horn of ale by now!" Angry that he was unable to get up and walk around the vessel, Ivar rolled his cold blue eyes at the thought of spending another day on the ship. 
He would never tell any of his fellow Northmen he was uncomfortable and the cramped conditions of sailing did not fare well with his legs. The weather was miserable. There was a dense fog that seemed to surround each of the ships making it virtually impossible to see any other vessel. 
It had rained for the last five nights and four days. This was not just any rain. It was a freezing rain – like little blades of razor-sharp ice slicing through the air at your face, neck, and hands during the night. The weather during the day wasn't much better with the ferocious thunderstorms that pushed half of the sea into their boat.
Running his hands through his dark brown hair, Ivar squeezed the water from his long ponytail that hung at his shoulders. Trying to ignore the rain and saltwater dripping into his eyes, he sighed and clasped his hand around the arm ring given to him by his father. "Ragnar, show us to land soon," he said quiet enough so no one else could hear him.
He flexed his fingers, which were pruned, in his black half gloves. He was soaked to the bone. The heavy fur coat he wore did little to keep him warm, it felt as though it was just washed in the ocean itself.
Ivar was tired of being wet. His coat was wet. His blankets were wet. His clothes were wet. His boots were wet - if he did not remove them soon, he risked getting foot rot. The food was wet. Even his stools were wet, courtesy of inadvertently drinking saltwater.
"When I kill Lagertha and become King of Kattegat, I will no longer go on raids. I will send others to raid on my behalf," he said matter-of-factly, to no one in particular. "I no longer enjoy sailing." 
A soft chuckle came from behind him, "Ivar, you are the youngest brother. You have almost no claim to the throne," Ubbe said putting both hands on Ivar's shoulders. Leaning up to whisper in his brother's ear, he continued, "Besides, do you think you deserve the throne after what you did to Sigurd?" With a good-natured double pat, Ubbe stood up and balanced himself as he walked over to the edge of the ship, untied his pants and relieved himself over the side.  Still unable to bring himself to express his true disgust at Ivar for killing their brother Sigurd, Ubbe swallowed the hurt.
"You are aware that will blow back on all of us? Hmm, Ubbe?" Ivar said rolling his eyes. "All this wind," he circled his finger in the air to show his brother how strong the winds were blowing. His face held annoyance when Ubbe shrugged, suggesting he didn't care if his brother got pissed on. Ivar turned his head. "I have just as much claim to the throne as any of you. I am a son of Ragnar."
Looking at his brother, as he turned and smiled, Ivar admired how much Ubbe resembled their father. Their oldest brother Björn was the spitting image of Ragar, save the color of his golden blond hair. That hair color he inherited from his mother, Lagertha. But, Ubbe, looked he could have been Ragnar's twin. He had the same bright blue eyes, the same long dirty blond hair. Looking at Björn and Ubbe there was never any question that they deserved the name Ragnarsson. 
His other brother Hvitserk looked like their mother, Aslaug, with his green eyes and blond hair. Even if he wasn't the spitting image of his father, resembling Queen Aslaug and her family, the family that was the hero Sigurd and the shield-maiden Brynhildr, was enough to make all of the young maids in Kattegat want to bed him.
Ivar never paid attention to his brother Sigurd to figure out if he resembled either of his parents. To him, Sigurd was a non-factor.  Even with his disdain of Sigurd, he never meant to kill him.  It was a mistake.  Sigurd should have shut his mouth and stopped tormenting him so. Reminding him of Mother, with the strawberry blonde hair and the cleft in her chin, but saying such awful words. Those words would have never come from Mother’s mouth. 
Then there was Ivar. He looked nothing like either of his parents or any of his siblings. While all of his brothers had been some shade of blond, Ivar had dark brown hair. His eyes were blue like their father's but a different shade. Ragnar's eyes were almost the clear blue of ice melting after a thaw, where Ivar's were the deep blue of the lakes of Norway. But the thing that made Ivar stand out the most from his brothers was his inability to walk. Ivar learned to get around by crawling, dragging his legs which were bound together, behind him. He was also the angriest and cruelest of his brothers – he harbored a pain that not even he understood. He never fit into his family; not in looks, abilities, ideals… 
"The throne should go to the strongest, and best suited to rule, Ivar." Ubbe reminded Ivar as he pulled up the waistband of his britches. "That is Björn or have you forgotten?"
"Björn does not want it. He just wants to sail around the world and search for warm places," Ivar spat out.
Shaking his head, Ubbe returned to his seat using his legs to wedge himself into the corner of the ship as it continued to rock from side to side. "It doesn't matter. If he refuses, then I will take it. I am the next oldest. Then Hvitserk. Then you, Ivar. You have to wait your turn," Ubbe was careful not to mention his little brother Sigurd.  That pain was still too real. 
"Hvitserk?! Hvitserk is more fit to rule over Kattegat then me?" His voice rose an octave at the absurdity of the suggestion.  “And you think you’re stronger?” Why couldn't his brothers see him for the born leader that he was? Why didn't Ubbe, of all of his brothers, the most sensible and reasonable one of all, understand that he would make the best ruler? "Or I could just kill you all now," Ivar said, taking his dagger out of its boot sheath so he could clean his fingernails. 
"Might be easier when we get off these boats," Ubbe mocked. "That is if Odin doesn't take us all first." 
"You don't want the throne, Ubbe. Neither does Hvitserk. He just wants to bed every girl from Northumbria to Kattegat." Ivar shook his head, frustrated with his brothers' lack of ambition. They should be more excited to get Lagertha off of the throne. She killed their mother, "Now that we have avenged Ragnar, I will get my vengeance for Mother. And when the throne is empty, it is up to one of us to take it. None of you want it. So, it is mine." 
"If it is Odin's will," Ubbe said, before laying his head back and closing his eyes. There was nothing left to do but try to sleep. This would be another day left up to Odin for the crew to find their way back to Kattegat. 
Njord, the god of the sea, was not finished toying with the Great Army. Until he was, there was nothing they could do to get their ships back on course.
Ivar narrowed his eyes at Ubbe. He loved his brother, but it infuriated him that Ubbe did not believe him. Ivar was going to be a King. He could feel it, and he didn't need a Seer to confirm what he already knew. The gods had favored him. He had been chosen, and when it happened, he would make everyone that doubted him pay.
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A woman woke up from a dream with a start. Panting heavily, she wiped the sweat from her brow and sat upright in the bed. Pulling all of her long burgundy hair to one shoulder, she closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. She took a moment to touch the amulet on her chest and found herself relaxing slowly.
Placing her feet on the soft rug, she strolled over to the chair to collect her robes. The thick red robe was made from a blend of lamb's wool and cotton, with fur from the dire wolf to line the collar and cuffs. She put the robe onto her naked body and slowly fastened the clasps. Stepping into her red leather boots, he looked at herself in the glass that rested by the washing bowl on the table.
She looked as calm as she always did. But, inside she was shaken. The Lord of Light had given her the most peculiar vision. She wasn't exactly sure what it meant – that much had not been revealed to her. But she knew that there was a change about to happen in the Seven Kingdoms that did not bode well for her charge, Stannis Baratheon. Holding her head up high, she turned on her heel and exited her chamber.
"Ah, Melisandra, we were just making plans for our departure tomorrow," Leaning over a table with the sepia map on top King Stannis looked into the red eyes of the red woman standing in the doorway. "Come, tell me your thoughts on us traveling this way south?"
Ser Davos Seaworth, a tall man with balding grey hair, shook his head and huffed. He hated this plan. He hated how much Stannis had changed. But, most of all, he hated this Red Witch. "My Lord, we should rethink staying at Castle Black. The winter's gonna get harsher. Your wife and your daughter…"
"I'm thinking about my wife and my daughter!" Stannis yelled, cutting Ser Davos off, furrowing his heavy brows in the process. "Winter is coming and they can't survive it here. Castle Black is no place for a child. The horses are dying. The men are freezing and hungry. We have to move south before we lose the entire army – that is if those things don't kill us first!"
Calmly strolling over to Stannis and placing her hand on his arm, Melisandra lifted her red eyes to meet his. "My King, the Lord of Light has shown me a vision. It is not exactly clear to me the meaning or how exactly it means to play out, but I do believe Ser Davos is right. We should not leave this place." She moved slowly walking behind Stannis to stand on his left side. "Something or someone is coming from a land far away. Whatever this is, it threatens to change everything in the Seven Kingdoms."
"I have made up my mind," Stannis said slamming his hand on the table. "We leave at first light!" With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Melisandra and Ser Davos alone.
Curling his lip slightly at her, Ser Davos dared to ask, "You know how I feel about your visions. But, if it is something that will hurt Lord Stannis, I need to know."
Melisandra shook her head, for she could not quite articulate what she saw in her dream. "I cannot answer that as of yet, Ser Davos." Her vision had not given her enough to formulate coherent sentences. All she knew was it had something to do with a towheaded girl, a man with fierce blue eyes on the ground like a serpent, and dragons. She walked around the table and headed toward the door. "Just know, that the night is dark and full of terrors."
A/N - The first two chapters are a little slow.  They are needed backstory for my timeline.  Also, I’m a bit wordy...I talk a lot!  Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the tag list.
Thanks!
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sifshoney-notactive · 5 years ago
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Ragnarssons: saga vs show.
This is the first post of a serie, in which I will point the difference between each son of Ragnar, not only from a narrative point but also from a point of characterization, and their relationship with their parents and other people, and what makes them who they are.
Ivar The Boneless.
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Birth and circumstances
In The Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok, Ivar The Boneless is the first of Aslaug and Ragnar's children. After Ragnar and Aslaug meet for the first time, and she comes to him answering his riddle ("to come to him neither undressed nor dressed, neither hungry nor full, neither alone nor yet in company") she tells him she will marry him under the condition that he completes his deeds in Sweden. Ragnar thus accomplishes his goals, and comes back to her seven months later. She finally agrees to marry him, but during the wedding night she tells him she won't sleep with him for three days, and that if he will still have his ways she will give birth to a "deformed son". That same night Ragnar does have his way, and Aslaug subsequently gives birth to Ivar, whose name will be the Boneless because "his legs were only made by cartilage". While Aslaug's warning did suggest she wanted to prevent this, the condition does not cause any disruption among his parents nor among his brothers (the already existing sons of Thora Town-Doe and his future ones), and it sharpens his mind to find alternatives to make up for his disability.
Ivar the Boneless is described as the handsomest of the Ragnarssons, and the wisest too, the last trait inherited by his mother Aslaug and her lineage (Sigurd's acquisition of wisdom in the Volsunga saga). He was a patient man with an inclination to be quiet, observant and reserved, which caused his enemies to be wary of him, considering him the most dangerous of all the sons of Ragnar. Ivarr's condition is speculated to be connected to his father Ragnar and his grandfather Sigurd's slayings of two dragons, the dragon of Thora Town-Doe and Fáfnir. The correlation between Ivar and the two dragons could be that they were serpentine creatures, no legs or wings to help them move, and his way of being patient and quiet and striking his enemies in a calculated way.
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In the show Vikings, Ivar is the last and fourth son of Ragnar and Aslaug. After Aslaug and her children have to flee from Kattegat due to Jarl Borg's invasion, and the subsequent rescue by the hands of Ragnar and his former wife, Aslaug and Ragnar have a peaceful moment in the barn they are hiding in. There, Ragnar clearly wants to initiate sex, and Aslaug reveals later on that she told him that she would bear him a monster if he ever forced himself on her. In the show Ragnar does have his way, and Aslaug gets pregnant soon after. Her pregnancy causes her troubles with unusual pain, and she starts to worry about her prophecy, revealing to Siggy that "it wasn't her who spoke those words", and that she did not know who or what made her say them. Ivar's birth shows Aslaug in extreme pain, that causes her to faint for a few minutes before finally gathering strengths and releasing him into the world. Soon after we are shown Ivar's condition, that is just like in the sagas: his legs only constitute of cartilage. Unlike the Sagas, his condition is shown as almost a monstrous foreshadowing of his conduct and create clear disruptions among the family; Ragnar is intentioned to leave him to his destiny in the woods, which he even attempts to, and Aslaug intentioned of saving him and raising him taking in account his disability. While his brothers were either neutral or not disturbed of the situation at first, it then sparks disruptions among them too, sometimes even causing them to outright mock him or exclude him because of it.
Ivar is shown as a handsome young man with an unusual intelligence, which was (implied) inherited from his father. His intelligence though doesn't make up for his character, that is arrogant and quick tempered, extremely different from his saga counterpart. His brother's constant mocking and the knowledge of his father wanting to get rid of him hunted him, which resulted in his inclination to need other's approval and attention.
His condition had no correlation to any of his parents' deals, and is actually used in the narrative as a physical reflection of Ivar's monstrosity^. His already existing intelligence and inclinations are further enhanced by Floki who mentored him since a young age, after his accidental slaying of a child.
^ I feel the need to add that I do not condone this since it is an ableist connection, but it is indeed present in the show so I have to mention it.
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We can argue that while in the saga Ivar is shown as a continuation of Ragnar's legacy, completing his deeds (the Hvitabø expedition which Ragnar never managed to complete) and reflecting Ragnar in many ways, but filling the gaps in his personality, becoming a person of his own, Ivar in the show, just like his brothers, is actually a part of Ragnar in a symbolic way, trying to prevail amongst his brothers (one of the many parts of Ragnar trying to prevail amongst the others).
Relationships
Father:
In The Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok we are shown that Ragnar tends to flee fairly often from home, even after his marriage with Aslaug, to engage in Viking activities. Despite this Ivar is shown to be a devoted son, who actually shares Ragnar's desire for exploration and adventure, without giving in to what are Ragnar's impatience and flaws.
In the show, Ragnar and Ivar's relationship is stern since he was just a child due to Ivar's condition, after his attempted abandonment and Aslaug's consequent rescue, Ragnar is left unsure on how to move when it comes to him, almost neglecting the child but for rare occasions. When Ragnar comes back after an absence of 10 years, he takes Ivar with him on his doomed journey, and that bonds them as Ivar is the last Ragnarsson to see Ragnar alive and the one to whom Ragnar gives the reins of his legacy.
Mother:
In the saga, Ivar and Aslaug's relationship is stated as a happy one, bonded not just by their family relation but by her lineage and prophecy. We also see that, after the death of the sons of Thora, Ivar and Aslaug discuss wether to avenge them, having different views on the matter; Aslaug is decided in avenging her beloved step sons, but Ivar is unsure about the success of such deal.
His opinion is changed afterwards by young Sigurd, whose stance of support for their mother and her praise for it, convinces his brothers and he himself to avenge Eirekr and Agnarr. This passage shows that the Ragnarssons strive to be praised by Aslaug, and Ivar is not an exception. After Ivar and his brothers go to England with the quest of avenging Ragnar, he stays in the lands he was given by King Aelle never coming back home.
In the show Ivar is clearly preferred amongst his brother, and Aslaug gives the majority of her care to him due to his special condition. She is clearly very protective and defensive of him, and he finds that she is the only one who ever truly loved him. When Ivar departs with Ragnar, Aslaug tries to stop him from going because she sees "it will end in disaster". Ivar doesn't listen, and a footage shows Aslaug "miscarrying", symbolically and magically bonded to Ivar, as in the same moment a storm rages and drowns the ship Ragnar and Ivar are in.
After her death, Ivar pledges to avenge her and remembers her often, mentioning their bond or her beauty.
Brothers:
Ivar in the saga is extremely respected by his brothers, who look up to him. We can see him lead during their battles, the first example of this was Hvitabø, where he suggested raiding there even if Ragnar had attempted and failed the same quest before. Even with this dominating stance, or his teasing ways of encouraging his brothers, their relationship is a happy one, and they all avoid to go against each other. Ivar gives great respect in return to their opinions, even young Sigurd who was only three years old when he started participating in battles.
In the show, Ivar is often mocked or excluded by his brothers, who do not appreciate the attention Aslaug gives to him. His condition is sometimes brought up by Sigurd in a mocking way, and he struggles with being respected until he shows his skills in battle and strategy on the field. His relationship is especially troubled with Sigurd, who feels neglected by Aslaug and blames Ivar for this. Conflicts amongst the Ragnarssons are not uncommon, and after Ragnar Lothbrok's death Ivar kills Sigurd after an argument, for which he does show remorse but not guilt.
Ways of ruling
In the saga, when Ivar is given lands by King Aelle he was considered a generous ruler who "gave money with both hands", and his wisdom was considered so great that everyone seeked him for advice. He became very popular amongst the people and was considered friend by everyone, even nobles of adjacent lands.
In the show, when Ivar becomes king, he creates a regime of control and fear, in which he was not very generous and often killed whoever went against his word. The people of Kattegat did not trust him as a ruler, and were forced to refer to him as if he was a God.
Sources:
The Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok
Þóra and Áslaug in Ragnars saga Lođbrokar : WOMEN, DRAGONS AND DESTINY
Vikings the tv show (2013)
Tags: @philomaela @edythofhastings
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aion-rsa · 4 years ago
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Vikings Ending Explained
https://ift.tt/eA8V8J
The following contains spoilers for Vikings season 6 part two.
Vikings has always been concerned with legacy: that of the Vikings themselves, and of Ragnar and his sons. It’s clear from the show’s coda – Ubbe and Floki side by side on a distant beach, contemplating existence as the sun glows down upon the endless stretch of ocean before them –  that the two ultimately are inseparable. Bound up in this spider’s web of myth and mayhem, too, is the fate and legacy of the show itself. How will it be remembered now that it is gone? In a word: fondly. 
Creator Michael Hirst has left us a show for the ages, one that transcends the war, blood, and murder that first drew audiences to its story. The closing run of episodes is at turns thrilling, stirring, chilling, harrowing, heart-breaking, savage, sensual and ethereal, and is capped off with a mesmerizing, mytho-philosophical finale that retroactively elevates everything that came before it, all the way back to the moment when Ragnar first asked Floki to help him sail west. So how does it achieve this greatness? And what does it all mean? Let’s break it down. 
Groundhog Deity
One of the central themes of the show is the cycle of violence and bloodshed in which Viking society finds itself mired, and the battle between those who seek to perpetuate it, and those who seek to break free from it. It’s a dichotomy that burns down through the wick of the show, and often rages within its characters, most notably Ragnar, Lagertha, Floki, Bjorn, and Ubbe. Season upon season, each promise of peace is swiftly pounded into the blood-soaked earth by the vengeance, skulduggery or megalomaniacal ambitions of a chaotic individual, faction or rival; the old ways refusing to cede ground to the new. But still the dreamers and visionaries struggle, against themselves, against the furious roar of tradition, again and again. This rise and fall happened so frequently throughout the show’s run that its rhythm caused some sections of the audience to grow weary. This repetition, though, this sense of helplessness, is largely the point (not to mention an accurate portrayal of the brutish life endured by most people in the Dark and Middle Ages), and one that’s made more explicit than ever before in the final stretch of the season. Like the characters themselves, we the audience must feel – truly feel – the suffocating hopelessness of it all before we can begin to appreciate the burst of light at the end. 
All throughout the series the Vikings’ thirst for war and conquest is cloaked in the language of fate, destiny, glory, and the Gods. In a telling sequence half-way through the final ten episodes, these justifications are stripped away to reveal the dark, very mortal truth that lies behind them. Ivar, Hvitserk, and King Harald reunite in a calm and peaceful Kattegat. All three are burnt-out, frazzled, and dissatisfied. There’s a real sense that “the age of the Vikings is gone” and that this is “the twilight of the Gods”. Harald and Ivar admit that there is no pleasure in being a King, despite it being a title both men have dreamed of and longed for, and for which they’ve lied, cheated, betrayed, and killed. In the final analysis, we can see ��� and finally they can see, however indirectly – that the great cycle in which the Vikings are trapped has been perpetuated not by the Gods – those great scapegoats in the sky – but by bored and angry men seeking in bloodshed distractions from a cold and brutish world whose quotient of misery has only ever been increased by their actions. It is especially sad to see Ivar churned back into this mill given the growth he experienced throughout this season, not only in being a caring, surrogate father to the Rus heir Igor, but in becoming an actual father after his body asserted itself just long enough to plant his seed in Princess Katia’s belly. 
Ivar witnesses two men in a public gathering-place squabbling over a trivial matter, and extrapolates from this that war is a necessary state for the Vikings, because in peace they fight amongst themselves. It’s patently obvious that the lesson Ivar pulls from this incident says more about his pain and psychopathology – his hatred, his emptiness – than it does about society at large. Ultimately, it is he, and Harald, and Hvitserk, and a million other men just like them, who need war. They need external conflict to distract them from their own internal conflicts and inadequacies. Never-the-less, and perhaps unsurprisingly, Ivar’s facile supposition is all that King Harald needs to hear. Before long, the three men and a ready-made army are heading back across the sea to England for a final confrontation with King Alfred and his Christian Saxon soldiers. 
“The Twilight of the Gods”
This climactic confrontation is, on one level, less a battle between two armies and more the continuation of the chess game Ivar and Alfred once played as children, as their fathers – King Ragnar and King Ecbert – cut deals and hatched plots in another room. 
In many ways, Ivar was always marked for monsterhood. He grew up with the fierce love of his mother, Aslaug, which she wrapped around him like a blanket made of steel. By over-compensating for his condition and physical fragility to such a suffocating degree, she left him isolated, conceited and angry. His father, Ragnar, was absent for most of his youth. Though Ivar had Floki to teach and guide him in the ways of the Gods, Ivar didn’t realize quite how much of himself had been missing until Ragnar returned and took him under his wing. Ragnar was one of the few men who seemed to have faith in Ivar’s abilities; who told him that he could be something other than a liability, a cripple, a joke. They journeyed to England together with conquest in mind, but when a storm sank most of their boats, Ragnar swiftly refocused the purpose of their visit, enlisting Ivar’s aid to kill the surviving members of their party (to remove all evidence of their initial intent) and surrender themselves to King Ecbert. 
Ragnar tells Ecbert to deliver him into the hands of King Aelle, so that Ecbert will not be blamed for Ragnar’s death, and the full fury of the Vikings will be directed at their mutual enemy instead. However, Ragnar has instructed Ivar to return home with news of Ecbert’s duplicity, so that both Kings will become the targets of the rage-and-grief-filled Viking horde. Ivar is the perfect capsule for this incendiary message, as Ragnar gambles, quite correctly, that King Ecbert’s sense of fair play, filtered through his Christianity, won’t permit him to harm or imprison a poor, harmless crippled boy. Ragnar thus succeeds in turning the Saxon’s Christian compassion into a fatal weakness, while at the same time teaching his weaponized son that love, violence, deceit, and death are so intimately connected as to be almost indivisible. 
When Aslaug died at Lagertha’s hands, soon after Ragnar’s death, it removed his only other source of love, cloying though it was. He took that love and turned a mutated version of it upon himself, imbuing himself with delusions of Godhood, something his fury at his parents’ deaths only served to magnify.
In the first dramatic round of the final battle against Alfred, Ivar repeats his father’s tactic of weaponizing kindness. He orders traps to be set in the forest with which to painfully ensnare the first line of Alfred’s advancing soldiers. The hope is that Alfred’s Christian compassion will compel him to send the next few lines of soldiers to assist their wailing brothers, allowing the Vikings to ambush them like lambs to the slaughter. And so it proves. Many lives are lost. The fighting is kinetic and savage; the pervading mist and gloom only enlivened by the occasional eruption of fire, like a melding of Valhalla and the Christian conception of Hell. King Harald is killed, finding some solace and peace at last with a dying vision of his brother, Halfdan, whom he’d killed in a previous battle. 
After this, there is a lull in the fighting. Alfred and Ivar meet under a white flag to discuss terms. Alfred will not yield. He will never again reward Ivar for his unprovoked attacks, nor fall into the trap of trusting his word. He tells Ivar to leave his kingdom, leave England, and never return; entreats him to save his people from further pointless bloodshed.  He goes on to declare: “My God is the God of peace and love. Your Gods are savage. They demand sacrifice. They do not know human love.” The final fight that follows is as much the culmination of a struggle between two competing religious and cultural ideologies as it is a battle between Ivar and Alfred; and by the end of this final episode the matter is settled, at least in a thematic sense. 
Alfred and Ivar cleave to their God and Gods on the battlefield, looking to them for guidance and answers. As the situation becomes ever more desperate, both leaders soon find themselves deserted by their Gods, their imagined connection to them severed. 
“What am I supposed to do?” Ivar shouts to his suddenly deaf and mute Gods. “Answer me!”
“Speak to me, please. I’m afraid. Speak!” Alfred beseeches his lord Jesus. 
Stripped of their Gods, both men are forced to acknowledge in whose image they’ve truly been forged: their fathers’. What they do next will decide if history is doomed to repeat itself, and also settle the question of whether it is their own wills or the wills of their fathers that are the stronger. Ultimately, it is love and compassion, in both instances, that proves to be their guiding light, leading Ivar to reject his father’s ways, and Alfred to embrace his father’s – his real father: the monk Athelstan, who was once a friend and confidante of the great Ragnar Lothbrook. 
All You Need is Love
Ivar watches the battle from the side-lines. Hvitserk has long been a tormented, tortured and fractured man, but in combat he’s whole, screeching and roaring through the flames like a mythical demon. But one man can’t best a whole army, and it becomes clear that Hvitserk isn’t long for this world. Ivar’s eyes shine an electric blue, a physical indication known since childhood that his brittle bones are about to break. Ivar knows his actions in the next few minutes will serve as his last will and testament, the means by which the world will remember him. Ivar watches Hvitserk – the brother he’d many times mocked and tormented, whose life he’d tried to ruin, who’d long forsworn to kill him – and charges onto the battlefield to take his place, submitting himself to the same forces of compassion he’d spent a life-time deriding and subverting.  
“I could never kill you,” he tells Hvitserk.
“I love you. I love you brother,” Hvitserk replies tearfully.
“Now go. Go!” hollers Ivar.
Ivar’s rage and defiance seem to shake the very earth around him. He is at one with his army. He fights and lives through them. In the midst of his last stand a young soldier, shaking with fear, approaches him from the mist.
“Don’t be afraid,” says Ivar, an almost Christ-like evocation at this, his moment of sacrifice. The soldier stabs him repeatedly, and, as Ivar falls, his bones snap and break. Hvitserk runs to him and cradles his dying body, while Alfred calls for the fighting to stop. “I am afraid,” Ivar splutters, words no-one thought they would ever hear from Ivar the Boneless. And then there are three more; his final words: “I love you.”   
Ivar has thus broken the cycle. He has sacrificed himself not for hate, as his father once did, but for love. He was finally able to know and to feel human love; and crucially to demonstrate it instead of demanding it, even if it was right at the end of his life, and only for a few moments. Already Ivar had begun to demonstrate humility. On the eve of the battle he told Hvitserk: “Hundreds of years from now, someone will be proud to find my blood is in their body and my spirit is in their soul.” Maybe part of him realized that in becoming a father he’d finally achieved the immortality after which he’d always hungered, and it was enough.  
Hvitserk is carried away on the back of a wagon. We’re given an aerial view of this, lending Hvitserk the appearance of a corpse returning from battle. In many ways he is. Hvitserk is dead, in a sense. The merciful Alfred baptises Hvitserk, allowing him to be reborn with a new name: Athelstan. 
We know from our future vantage point that the loving Christ Hvitserk has now embraced is destined to eventually, and irrevocably, defeat the old Norse Gods. Not only that, but there will be a millennium of distinctly non-loving conquests, wars, decimations, genocides, enslavements and cultural destructions carried out in His name, all of which will make the exploits of the 8th and 9th century Vikings look like the tantrums of naughty children in comparison. But Hvitserk doesn’t know this. All he knows is that he has found peace by rejecting war and embracing love. He has finally found a way to honor his father – or at least the part of his father that loved Athelstan, and came to see Christianity and Paganism as two sides of the same coin. Love and mercy, then, are the instruments that Hvitserk and Alfred use to break free from the ‘endless cycle of suffering and war’.     
Out With The Old
The show’s themes converge, coalesce and crystalize in the New World, too. The journey from Iceland to Greenland to North America is one fraught with danger and death, but characterized by faith and hope and sacrifice. And it is Othere, the Christian wanderer once known as – appropriately enough – Athelstan (no relation), who leads them there. 
 “This is everything [Ragnar] was searching for,” Ubbe tells Othere, in their new land of milk and honey. “And I found it.” Othere cautions Ubbe against behaving in the same ways that he did before – the old ways – lest this land become just like the land he left behind.
They are not alone. The Vikings discover that the land is occupied by a tribe of indigenous peoples they refer to as Skraelings. The tribe welcomes them warmly. Ubbe soon discovers they have a friend in common: Floki, who somehow reached these same shores from Iceland, alone, and now lives on the periphery of the Skraelings’ land as a revered mystic. If it wasn’t for the Skraelings’ kindness, Floki would have died on arrival. They showed him mercy and kindness.
Asked why he left Iceland, Floki says it was because he was ‘imprisoned in sadness’. 
“What made you so sad?”
“I don’t always remember,” he says, with a wistful smile.
Floki here represents the past of the Vikings as we in the modern world have come to know it, a patchwork of tall tales and omissions. Floki embodies how time will continue to wash away both the Vikings’ history and their legend, until there’s little difference between them, and nothing much is left of either. Floki also embodies the idea that the golden age of the Vikings is gone; he remembers that he once was a Viking; he remembers Ragnar, the sons of Ragnar and the people who were important to them, but little else. There was a time when Floki was the greatest soldier of and preacher for the Gods, but he has now let them go, shed them like a dead skin. “I called to them and no longer heard their voices, or they didn’t make sense,” he tells Ubbe. Again, entropy, evolution, death, re-birth, legend, past, future: all suffused. 
The old ways make one last effort to re-assert themselves, even here in this paradise, and Ubbe gets his defining moment – just as Ivar and Hvitserk and Bjorn before him got theirs. One of his party murders the son of the Skraeling’s leader while ransacking the leader’s home for gold. The Skraelings – clearly more civilized than the Vikings ever were – hand this man over to Ubbe to decide his fate. 
This is a pivotal moment for the series. Where once we were encouraged to see Ragnar as the hero, even when he was killing and pillaging his way through innocent peoples, here we perceive this man, this murderer – who has simply acted in accordance with how the Vikings have always acted – as a dangerous savage. We, the audience, have already made a choice about who the Vikings are now, or who they should be – and so has Ubbe.
At first the murderer is to be publically blood-eagled, a particularly savage and painful form of execution that never-the-less guarantees its sufferer entry to Valhalla. At the last moment, Ubbe changes his mind, and slits the man’s throat instead. 
“Valhalla is not for you, my friend,” Ubbe tells him, mere seconds before carrying out his sentence, “Let me put you out of your misery.” Ubbe does not say this to be cruel, to rob the man of his place in the afterlife. He simply doesn’t want to inflict unnecessary pain, and is showing mercy. But it’s deeper than that, too. Valhalla doesn’t seem to matter to him anymore. Ubbe has come to understand that life can be lived without the old ways and their Gods, and be all the better for it. 
On the beach, Ubbe seeks Floki’s advice and counsel. Floki smiles. “You don’t need to know anything. It’s not important. Let it go.”
It’s fitting that Floki is there at the show’s end. Without his innovation as a boat maker, Ragnar would never have sailed west and discovered Saxon lands; would never have met Athelstan. Without Floki, the Vikings would never have discovered Iceland, or Greenland, or the New World on whose shores they now sit. Ragnar is the one who will be immortalized in legend, while the world will slowly forget Floki. He has already started to forget himself. Perhaps that is the point. Warriors live on in legend and infamy, while the people who built the world around them and at their backs fade away. But wasn’t it ever thus? Legends change the world; love saves it. And here we see that love is the more important, and more enduring, force of the two, even if we’re sometimes too proud to acknowledge it, or too blind to see it. 
“I love you, Floki,” says Ubbe, as they stare across the ocean, at their past, at their possible future, at eternity. 
What a beautiful, and truly surprising, sentiment for a show as blood-soaked as Vikings to bow out on.  
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Of course the status quo clings on in Kattegat, and I guess this will be picked up in the spin-off series. Set 100 years after the events of Vikings, Vikings: Valhalla is reportedly coming to Netflix sometime next year.
The post Vikings Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.
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lisinfleur · 5 years ago
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Fallen
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Author’s Notes | It gave me some work to think about this plot (around 3 days of work). However, I think I’m proud of this one. Hope you like it, dear requester! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Sigurd x OC, Fallen Angel Samiel Info | Viking Age AU, Fixing Plot AU, Fantasy AU, requested by anon for 5CW6 Words | 2861 ⁑ Warnings: Religious conflict, mentions of Christianism x Heathenry battles. Caution is recommended: keep in mind this is a fiction and not a reflection of the personal opinions of the author or any kind of debate on religious paths or concepts of right and wrong. Keep respect.
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"What in the nine realms is this thing?"
It didn't take too long until one of his brothers discovered his secret. A few weeks until one of them found out where was Sigurd going when nobody could find him.
Thank's the gods it was Ubbe who was now standing in front of the small room Sigurd had turned her cell into, stealing blankets and pillows and every sort of stuff from the castle ruins to make her life a little more comfortable hidden in that place.
"Sigurd!"
"For all the gods in Asgard, shut your mouth!" Sigurd said, getting up as she softly shrank around herself over the improvised bed he had done for her with furs.
"What the fuck is she?" Ubbe asked, lowering his voice. "Are these... wings?"
"And one of them is still broken, so for the love of Odin, don't cause any alarm. She's harmless," Sigurd insisted, holding his shocked brother by placing his hands over Ubbe's shoulder and chest as the older one was still looking at the girl...
Creature...
His blue eyes fully open in pure surprise.
"What do you mean by... Sigurd, what is she??" Ubbe insisted, looking at his little brother.
"She claims to be an angel. Those winged creatures the Christians say come from Heaven and watch over the men. Her name is Samiel. She says she shouldn't be here, but she was accused of committing a crime... A sin," Sigurd explained. "For some reason... This woman saved my life, Ubbe."
If Ubbe was shocked before, now, he was even more.
"What? Sigurd, what the fuck are you talking about?"
Sigurd sighed.
"When Ivar threw his ax towards me in that table... It was supposed to hit its target, brother. It would hit me in the heart and that was why our little brother was so surprised when he missed the point so grotesquely. That ax wasn't going towards my chair. It would split my heart in two!" he said, causing Ubbe to frown even more. "Samiel knew all the details of our conversations that day... She said... She told me she was the one who pushed the ax out of its track. She saved my life and she refuses to tell me why, but this reason is the reason why she was banished from what they call Heaven and thrown down to Midgard. In her fall, she broke her wing and Aelle's men found her wounded. She says the king thought she couldn't be anything but a demon - cause according to his words, angels don't fall without reasons.  - and she was locked down here to wait for his decisions about her fate... But we killed him before he could decide and I found her dying in this place, alone and cold."
There weren't spaces for more wrinkles in Ubbe's forehead.
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"And you took her words like this? Just because she said... Sigurd, this story is terribly bad told and..."
"I know who you are..." Samiel's voice sounded cutting Ubbe's angry speech and catching their attention. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar, second of your kind, the first fruit of Aslaug's womb, and the consequence of her sins," she said, looking at him.
Ubbe turned himself towards her, interested but annoyed by the way she was identifying him.
Yet, Samiel continued. Her amber eyes strangely glowing in gold towards him... Inhuman...
"The Lord knows your heart and so do I. You're the one who inherited the heart of your father and the spirit of his dreams still lives into the flames of your will. You're the one who wants no harm; the one who spares lives and save souls. I saw what you did for that num at the church. She was doomed by her own fear and your hands saved her soul from the flames. You're a good man... I was sent to watch for you."
Sigurd looked at Samiel with surprise in his eyes.
"She didn't tell me that," he said. And both of them came closer.
Sigurd sat beside her, at the bed, as Ubbe took a bench near the bars to sit in front of her. She couldn't be lying: none of his brothers were close to him when they attacked York and Sigurd wasn't at that battle because he was caring for the new settlement they were establishing there, on Aelle's lands... There was no way for her to know about that situation in such details.
Unless she was able to see.
"Explain yourself," Ubbe said, kinda harsh.
"There are no lies in my words," she said looking at him, now allowing Ubbe to notice her eyes were really inhumanly golden. "I came for I was designed to care and watch over the second son of Ragnar Lothbrok, the one among his sons that had doubts in his heart. The Lord saw in him a chance that he could leave his heathen path, walk towards the light of our Lord. And then, I was sent to care for his soul and keep him protected. To even operate miracles in order to have his faith. However, I committed a mistake. And now, I'm here." she explained.
Her eyes now looking at the ground.
"You saved my brother's life. And it was a mistake," Ubbe named the words, trying to place things in a way that would push his little brother away from that creature.
But she cringed at the sound of those words.
"No! No way of saving Sigurd's life would be a mistake. I could even show myself and make you believe the Lord wanted me to save your brother for your faith. As I said, I was allowed to operate miracles and have that ax out of its track was nothing but one. But my reasons were wrong... My mission failed. I don't see how it can be a sin, but... I was undressed of my grace and banished from paradise."
"Speak everything!" Ubbe insisted, annoyed with her conversation.
To believe her was to believe the Christian God somehow was real... And worse! That more than one story was real. That more than one belief was real. That Athelstan was right and the two pantheons could exist while his father was wrong and the gods weren't inventions of men after all.
Too much information, and yet, too few.
She was telling almost everything. But a single detail was making everything into pieces that couldn't be glued together.
"I... I..." Samiel's face became red.
Her cheeks burning, her heart racing. Even the feathers of her wings were strangely bristled and slightly elevated from their resting position.
"May I speak to your heart and to your heart alone, Ubbe?" she asked causing Ubbe to frown completely. "I'm your guardian angel, despite having failed and fallen, I'm still connected to you and I can still speak to your heart. May I? Please?"
Ubbe was completely confused. How come she could trust him more than the one who was caring for her? Sigurd was also confused. What was this that Samiel wanted so hard to keep hidden from him?
"What do you mean? How do you do this?" Ubbe asked; his curiosity speaking loud in his blue eyes. "What do I have to do?"
"Just close your eyes... And listen," Samiel mumbled, becoming silent.
Ubbe took a moment to really understand or feel anything coming from her, but as soon as he could hear her, his eyes enlarged, in surprise. And her eyes started shining fully golden, looking straight into his.
Like a dream, his memories, or some kind of revelation, Ubbe started seeing in his mind scenes that were, surely, events from her life.
He saw her, flying over the battlefield after him. He saw the many times she blew near his ear quite before he was able to notice an enemy coming at the battlefield. He saw the way she guided him towards the camp, sometimes opening her wings to stop or force arrows away from his body.
However, through the whole time, her eyes were always landing over his little brother.
Samiel was there to protect him - and she did her job, undoubtedly. But her eyes weren't watching only for him and she wasn't sitting beside him when Sigurd was singing for the men's celebrations or messing alone with his oud during the camps. Despite she was closer to his tent, her eyes were also watching for Sigurd's tent all the time and many times he saw she divided herself to blow the arrows away from him as well.
Ubbe saw the despair in her eyes when the figure of Odin in his dark cloak came closer to his brother at that table. What was his surprise when Ubbe realized Odin himself had come to collect his brother's soul. But there was her hand, shoving away the ax from its track, causing Odin to laugh at her and leave with Muninn and Huginn flying around her head before following their master.
And then, those creatures came in flashes of light - two of them, like her.
They dragged her.
They forced her to her knees.
She committed a crime. Ubbe felt his heart clench into his chest when her tunic was torn and the ring of light she used to have on her head was removed and crushed in front of her eyes.
He could hear them speaking.
He could hear the sin for what she was thrown into this world, still connected to him, still feeling his actions, still knowing her mission.
When those scenes were over, Ubbe knew everything and his eyes landed over his surprised and curious little brother who couldn't understand a single thing of what was happening in front of his eyes.
Samiel was crying. Tears were rolling down her face silently.
"I couldn't tell him..." She mumbled.
She didn't want Sigurd to think it was his fault, Ubbe knew.
"But I couldn't understand why was it a sin," She kept muttering. "It was so pure... So innocent..."
"What happened? Ubbe what did she showed you?" Sigurd asked. "Don't you trust me, Samiel? What is it that I can't know?"
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"She fell in love with you, Sigurd," Ubbe mumbled low, shocking his brother completely.
Samiel's eyes went to the ground, ashamed.
"She was stripped of her light and what they seem to call grace... Because she fell in love with you. And it seems to be a crime..."
The girl cringed, embracing herself.
"You weren't supposed to speak this loud..."
"I know you didn't want him to know. I know you didn't want him to feel guilty. But believe me... Sigurd deserves to know the truth. Especially this truth..."
Sigurd was stunned. His eyes were looking at Samiel, completely shocked. That woman... That beautiful angel that saved his life had fallen for loving him?
Him, above all the others?
"Take care of her, brother. She's the treasure you prayed for," Ubbe mumbled, looking at Sigurd. "I could feel her heart... And that's nothing purest than what she feels for you."
His blues went back towards Samiel.
"Your Lord was wrong. There is no way for me to dedicate my faith and my loyalty to a God that punishes love," he said, looking into her eyes. "But I assure you, by our side, you won't miss his light."
She knew what he was talking about: to turn herself to the pagan gods that had embraced his people and smiled at her attempt to save Sigurd from the hands of his death.
"Is this... true?" the boy finally spoke, coming closer and looking at her. "Samiel..."
"Yes," She mumbled, lowering her head. "This is true. I fell because I love you. I fell because my love is, somehow, unacceptable."
Sigurd's hand touched her face, in a soft caress.
"I accept it," he said, low. "I... I want it." his eyes into hers, gentle, almost passionate. "Stay with me, Samiel."
His touches were everything she wanted. His eyes had the sweetness of a feeling she thought was innocent from the beginning.
However, she also knew the worst sin rested on his lips, so close to hers now.
"I want you," he mumbled.
And she had few seconds to decide.
The ones she dedicated her existence to didn't want her among them anymore. She would completely give up on her grace and turn her back completely to the creator or live on the sidelines until the end of times...
But what was the meaning of life until the end of times if his life would fade slowly into inexistence?
What was the meaning of remaining among the ones who didn't want her if she had a chance his gods could accept her, embrace her...
Warrant a place by his side after the end?
Her hands touched his face and her lips softly brushed his. Sigurd leaned the rest of the distance, catching her sweet untouched lips into a passionate and slow kiss as Ubbe watched, stupefied, the feathers of her wings changing colors slowly.
If she wasn't fallen before, now she was completely engulfed by the sin of her forbidden love and the white of her wings was no more. Feather by feather, Ubbe saw her wings turning into the darkest ebony until no sign of light could be seen on her.
When the kiss was over, Sigurd saw surprised Samiel's eyes weren't golden anymore... Instead, they opened in a dark burgundy, almost bloody red. And she sobbed, lowering her head.
"I can't feel it anymore..." she muttered. "It's gone... It's completely gone."
Sigurd pulled her softly into his embrace, holding the now truly fallen angel's sobs. Painful sobs that touched both brothers' hearts into that cell, but reached more than just them both.
"So, you finally understood..." The thunderous voice caught Samiel's attention and she lifted her face from Sigurd's shoulders to face the figure at the door of the cell: that man...
That same man Ubbe could recognize as Lord Odin. The man he saw looking at him with his one and only eye when his father died. The man he saw behind Sigurd on Samiel's memories, when death was about to engulf his little brother whole.
Sigurd also recognized that man - the same man who touched his face and mutely told him his father was dead.
"Lord Odin..." The bardic man muttered, stepping aside when the deity stood in front of the fallen girl, lowering himself to look her in the eyes.
"They belong to me... Their hearts are grown embraced by Yggdrasil's roots. Your... Lord... He may covet them. Yet, their veins are full with my blood, they're my lineage... And they'll come to my halls when the time has come."
Ubbe and Sigurd exchanged glares, surprised. So, they were really descendants of the god... It wasn't a myth after all!
Odin touched Samiel's chin, lifting her eyes towards him.
"I don't leave my children... As long as they know where their loyalty is. Now tell me, child... Where is yours?"
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She lifted her eyes towards the god and for a second, she lost herself into the eyeless hole in his face. Odin smiled, bringing her face close and blowing into her mouth, causing the girl to breathe deeply from his breath.
At the same moment, her wings opened completely, fully healed, breaking the amphora of water Sigurd had brought and placed near her bed. She sighed, gasping with the breath and Odin giggled when the sound of thunder preceded her eyes glowing as if they were struck by a lightning bolt, locking its energy into the globes now fully blue. The black wings started to get stains until they were mixed in gray, black, and white, with tones of the purple skies of the heaviest storms.
Odin looked at Sigurd, his lips curled in a smile.
"Consider it a gift for allowing me to send a message to the One Above, as he calls himself," the god said, surely referring to the Christian God, his rival in that dispute for Ragnar's bloodline hearts. "He may have won Athelstan's battle, but the whole war is too much for him. Ragnar's bloodline belongs to me. And I suppose he'll now understand."
His eye looked at Samiel one more time.
"You were fallen, child. We, the Old Gods... We lift the fallen ones into glory once again. Do not forget this." he said before the brothers could hear cawing crows outside of the few windows.
Before their bare eyes, the figure of the god simply vanished, leaving only the sound of the crows as a mark of his presence.
Sigurd turned himself to Samiel as Ubbe was still too shocked to really react.
"What just happened... Are you..."
"Alive... Awake... And free," she answered, caressing his face softly.
The One Above could have abandoned her for her sins... But there was still a place in the universe she could call hers. And if once the light was around her, now Samiel could feel it into her veins.
If the grace didn't want her anymore, then she would follow the storms.
And fly with the crows wherever her snake-eyed prince decided to go.
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teamivankaye · 3 years ago
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Fan Fiction: The Missing Scenes in Vikings 4x18 ‘Revenge’ Chapter 1: The Last Battle (Note: This fan fiction is based on a thorough study of the character and extensive discussions with King Aelle’s actor Ivan Kaye. It aims at filling the gap left in Vikings episode 4x18 ‘Revenge’ , much to King Aelle’s disadvantage, between the start of his last battle and the dragging. Although the scene at the pit does not allow to do Ivan’s own vision full justice, as much of it as possible has been integrated. Character and actor both deserved a better treatment than breaking King Aelle without showing how that could happen and giving it the time it would have needed to get him there by torture. I hope this text and the upcoming chapters will partly make up for this huge flaw.)
Like the waves of the ocean, the Northmen came rolling down the hill towards King Aelle‘s much smaller troops while he stared at them as if he had been paralyzed. This was not a revenge expedition – this was an invasion force! Neither man nor God would be able to save him, his people, or his family now from this gigantic flood of thousands of savage heathens that was about to engulf him with his men and to sweep them away from the face of the earth.
If God‘s omnipotence was a lie, then would there be a Paradise in the hereafter? He looked right into the gaping abyss of a blind, deaf, black eternal void.
„O Lord“, he thought with a glimmer of hope in the midst of deep desperation, „if this is part of a higher plan and our sacrifice is needed for our eventual victory, then so be it!“
Finally, when the first warriors came into the reach of his archers, a shiver went through King Aelle‘s body and broke the spell. Grasping the reins more tightly with his left hand, his right reached for his sword. Gliding swiftly out of the sheath as if it had a life of its own, the weapon seemed to merge with his hand, becoming an extension of his arm. The familiar weight infused the king‘s body with new strength and gave him confidence.
They would not win this battle, but they could still set an example for the rest of their kind to win the war, inspired and enraged by Northumbria‘s fate. And he would buy his men in the rear time who had orders to hurry back to the castle and save his family and as many of the others as possible in the event of a defeat.
Forcefully, King Aelle thrust the blade towards the sky and swung it above his head in a circle.
„For Northumbria!“
His voice reached far into the back rows as his battle cry echoed back through hundreds of throats like thunder, towards the overwhelming numbers of the Northmen. The archers stepped forward, thinning out the first rows of the dashing attackers, but the masses behind them just ran over them. When they almost reached the base of the hill, King Aelle straightened up in his stirrups, sword raised towards the sky once more, signaling the attack to his cavalry. A moment later, he charged down the hill on his warhorse, leading his men into his last battle.
His blood rushed through his veins, buzzing in his ears, and a surge of energy enlivened his body in a way he had not experienced it for a long time as he looked for their fiercest warrior. It was clear how this battle would end and the best thing he could hope for was to die honourably, fighting for his kingdom. Swiftly mowing his way through their lines towards the warrior he had determined to be his best chance for a glorious end, King Aelle was quickly cut off from the rest of his army and surrounded by the enemy. He lashed out with his sword fiercely but the mobile Northmen ducked down, evading his forceful blows and whenever he brought a man down, three others emerged to attack him.
He was still at a good distance from the man he had selected to be his last combatant when his shield-bearer went down beside him, exposing the king‘s left side to the assaults of the enemies. For the moment, the wide reach of King Aelle‘s arms and his dangerous blows kept the Northmen at a distance but the battle frenzy was not strong enough to override his advanced age for long. While the king started to feel the weight of his sword as his arm slowly grew tired, the sound of his name reached his ear if with a strange accent. Panting from exertion, he turned his horse around in order to gain more space when the stallion suddenly reared up, just to break down on his hindquarters. One of the heathens must have managed to wound him but the king had no time for further thoughts as he lost his balance and crashed backwards down to the ground.
For a moment, the brunt and pain of the impact left him breathless and numb but his instincts kicked in fast enough that he managed to roll sideways, getting out of the way of his falling horse. He lost his helmet in the movement as the strap had broken. Hastily, King Aelle tried to get back in control of his limbs, groping for his sword half-blinded by black and white dots blurring his vision. He had just struggled to his knees when he heard a gruff voice in the hoarse accent of the Northmen roar his name again, almost instantly followed by something hard hitting his forehead on hairline level. His world went dark.
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snarkomancy · 5 years ago
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The first painting featured an ancient ship, tossed by the waves among the rocks outcropping from the whirling deep. At the prow stood a man in white robes, his head adorned by a halo.
‘The First Landing,’ guessed the witcher.
‘Indeed,’ confirmed Vilgefortz. ‘Ship of the Exiles. John Bekker subdues the Power. He calms the waves, proving that magic need not be just evil and destructive, but can be used to save lives as well.’
‘Is this an authentic event?’
‘I doubt,’ smiled the wizard. ‘Most probably Bekker and the rest of the crew were throwing up over the brim. The Power was subdued only after the landing, which happened to be peaceful. Let's forward. Here you can see John Bekker again, forcing water out of stone near the first settlement. And there we have Bekker, surrounded by kneeling settlers, dispersing the clouds and stopping the storm from destroying the crops.’
‘And that one there? What event does it portray?’
‘The Finding of the Chosen. Bekker and Giambattista test the children of arriving settlers in order to find the Sources. Selected kids will be taken from their parents and brought to Mirthe, the first domicile of the wizards. You're looking at a historic moment. As you can see, all kids are scared, only that resolute brunette reaches to Giambattista with a trusting smile. This is the famous Agnes of Glanville, the first female wizard. The woman behind her is her mother. She looks quite sad, for some reason.’
‘And the scene with a gathering?’
‘Novigrad Union. Bekker, Giambattista and Monck make a truce with the chiefmen, priests and druids. Something to do with a pact of non-aggression and the separation of magic from the politics. Terribly corny. Let's go on. Here we have Geoffrey Monck setting off up the Pontar river, known at the time as Aevon y Pont ar Gwennelen, the Riven of Alabaster Bridges. Monck was sailing to Loc Muinne in order to convince the elven mages to school a group of children. You might be interested in the fact that among these children was a boy called Gerhart of Aelle. You've met him today. That boy is now known as Hen Gedymdeith.’
‘This particular scene,’ the witcher looked at the wizard, ‘Lacks in drama. After all, only a few years after Monck's successful expedition, the army of Marchal Raupenneck from Tretogor carried out a massacre of Loc Muinne and Est Haemlet, killing all elves regardless of age or gender. And so began a war, which ended with the slaughter in Shaerrawedd.’
‘Your admirable knowledge in history,’ smiled Vilgefortz, ‘ought to make you acknowledge the fact that none of the respectable wizards took part in this war. Therefore no student felt inspired to paint it. Let's continue.’
‘Very well. And what is this depiction? Ah, I know. It's Raffard the White ending the feud between kings and marking the end of the Six Years War. And over there, Raffard declines to accept the crown. Beautiful, noble gesture.’
‘You think so?’ Vilgefortz cocked his head. ‘Well, a gesture it was. However, Raffard did accept the post of a Royal Counsellor which put him the place of true ruler, as the king was retarded.’
‘The Gallery of Glory...’ muttered the witcher, coming up to the next canvas. ‘And here?’
‘The historic moment of the vocation of the first Chapter and the resolution of the Law. From the left: Herbert Stammelford, Aurora Henson, Ivo Richert, Agnes of Glanville, Geoffrey Monck and Radmir of Tor Carnedd. For the sake of accuracy, this painting also lacks in drama. Soon afterwards a very brutal war broke out, and all who opposed the Chapter and refused to follow the Law were slaughtered. Raffard the White, among others. But historical texts are silent about this, so as not to blemish the beautiful legend.’
‘And this one... Hmm... Yes, it was definitely painted by a student. Rather young one, too...’
‘Certainly. It's an allegory, at that. An allegory of the triumphing femininity, I presume. Air, Water, Earth and Fire. And the four famous sorceresses who mastered them. Agnes of Glanville, Aurora Henson, Nina Fioravanti and Klara Larissa de Winter. Look at the next, better-drawn painting. It's Klara Larissa again, opening the academy for girls. In the same building we're standing in right now. And the following portraits picture the most famous graduates of Aretuza. A long history of triumphing femininity and the subsequent feminization of the profession: Yanna of Murivel, Nora Wagner, her sister Augusta, Jada Glevissig, Leticia Charbonneau, Ilona Laux-Antille, Carla Demetia Crest, Yiolenta Suarez, April Wenhaver... And the only living one: Tissaia de Vries...’
They went ahead. Lydia's silken dress whispered quietly as they walked, and its whisper held a hint of a dreadful secret.
‘And this one?’ Geralt stopped. ‘What is this terrifying scene?’
‘Martyrdom of the mage Radmir, skinned alive during Falka's rebellion. The background shows Mirthe, burned at Falka's order.’
‘For which Falka had been burned in turn. At the stake.’
- Time of Contempt
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peaceisadirtyword · 6 years ago
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Vikings Rewritten {Prologue}
A/N: Hello! Okay first of all: this does not have a title because I don’t know what title to use :( I suck at this. So until I decide for a title (I accept ideas thank you😂) I will call it Vikings Rewritten because I'm the most original person in the whole world. 
Second: This is a prologue, though it’s too long to be a prologue. I said I'd “rewrite” the series on my own way since season 5A but I wrote this (which is technically episode 20 from season 4B) as a prologue to introduce the reader (who was going to be an OC but I didn’t know what you preferred so... If you prefer I use my own OC I can change it!) and it probably is a bit boring... Just wanted to know if you liked the idea... If you decide this is the biggest shit you’ve ever read I won’t post it! But if you decide you love it I would be more than happy to share this with you!♥️ 
Third: I am following the original storyline here, the major changes will come later (I still don’t know what changes I will do but if you think there is something in the show that shouldn't be that way please message me! I will say more about this at the end because I don’t want to spoil you anything. Though y’all know what happens. 
I don’t own any of the characters or the original plots and storylines, only the ones I created and the reader (though I don’t own the reader because that’s you and you’re free and belong to no one💖).
Warnings: Drama, a character’s death, Ivar’s anger issues, a bit of angst maybe. Some parts with a bit of fluff. It can be really bad written.
Words: 2915 too long to be a prologue I'm not good at this. 
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gif belongs to @jorindelle 💕
"Ivar, I understand you are angry, I know you want to avenge your father more than anything, but you have to be rational, listen to..."
"I already listened to them, Eyra, and I don't agree, we should kill Ecbert"
"Yes, but first listen to him"
"They are too soft" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. 
"They are your brothers, and you should consider their opinion"
He was sitting on one of the empty rooms she had found, after he came looking for her. 
Eyra hadn't wanted to be on the same room with the brothers while they discussed Ecbert's fate, as she already knew how it would end. 
Instead, she went to explore the place. She managed to save some books and some drawings from the fire, and hid them on a room to look at them more closely. 
But Ivar's displeasure with his brothers' wishes prevented her from doing so. 
"What do you think we should do?"  he asked, shrugging with a scowl on his face. He obviously thought everyone was mistaken but him. 
"I agree we should kill him" Eyra answered softly while touching one of the drawings "But you should listen to the offer he had for us, if he gives us land to settle here it can be really good for our people"
He scoffed. He had hoped at least she would be on his side. 
"I don't want to stay here forever, Eyra"
"Neither do I, but there's people who do want to stay..."
Ivar rolled his eyes, but she wasn't on the mood to argue with him. 
Those last days had been hard... After the Great Heathen Army defeated the saxons, killed Aelle and took king Ecbert captive it seemed like the revenge for Ragnar's death was almost finished. 
And then Helga died. She had been like Eyra’s mother. She alongside Floki was the one who raised her, as if she was her own child. 
She didn't deserve that death, she deserved to live more than anyone, to enjoy life and to be happy. 
But the Gods took her, breaking Eyra’s heart. She had helped Floki to bury her, and mourned her death for days.
She had to move on though, there were other problems and decisions to make. And the Ragnarssons counted on her. 
"I want to blood eagle Ecbert" Ivar bit his lip, his eyes darkening as he caressed the sharp edge of his dagger with his finger "To make him pay for giving my father away to be killed"
Eyra pressed her lips together. She agreed, Ecbert did deserve it, but...
"Ivar you could hurt yourself while doing it, you couldn't stand up..."
"I'm not a child, Eyra" he scoffed "Stop babying me, I'm not fragile"
"You're right, sorry" you sighed. Years and years worrying about him and she often forgot he had more strength than most of the vikings in all Scandinavia. And not only physical "I shouldn't have said that... Forgive me"
His expression softened, and he shook his head. 
"It's okay, there's nothing to forgive" 
Eyra got up from the chair she had been sitting on while looking at the drawings she had found, walking over to him. 
Ivar welcomed her by leaving his dagger on the floor and letting her sit on his lap. His strong arms hugged her waist and she let herself relax while closing her eyes and leaning her head into his shoulder.
"You should tell your opinion to your brothers, Ivar, with respect and listening to their point of view too..." she could almost see him rolling his eyes again "I'm sure they'll consider your idea while taking a decision"
Of course there was a feast. The vikings had to throw a feast to celebrate everything, to the point Eyra started thinking they'd only go to war to have something to celebrate later. 
It was almost as the ones in Kattegat; loud, full of food and music, some fights and a lot of drinking. Sigurd was playing his oud, Ivar was mocking everything Björn said, Ubbe was ignoring everyone and Hvitserk was eating as much food as he could. If only Helga was there too... She could say she was happy though. 
Ecbert was dead; he killed himself after giving the lands of East Anglia to the Ragnarssons. Ivar wasn't really happy with that ending, but at least Ragnar was avenged. 
Everything seemed to be going so well that she should have known. She should have known it was the beginning of a nightmare that would last for her entire life. 
The Ragnarssons were her family. Eyra grew up with them, as if she was their little sister. Björn played with her when she was a child, she shared toys Floki made for you with Sigurd and Ivar, who were the closest in age to her, Ubbe was her first crush when she were eight and Hvitserk got angry every time someone made her cry. 
And then some day, Ragnar came back to Kattegat, and she was angry at him. He left a wife and four kids and just disappeared. They needed him, they needed their father but he just abandoned them. Eyra even yelled at him once, called him coward and told him he didn't deserve his family. He had only smiled at the brave girl, with his eyes full of admiration, then he hugged her and told her how happy he was to see his sons had such a fierce and loyal friend by their side. 
Surprisingly, Eyra cried a bit when she heard of his death. 
Somehow, he managed to convince Ivar to go with him to England, and she couldn't remember any time when she had panicked as much as when Aslaug came to her home, crying desperately, asking for help to convince Ivar to stay. 
He'll die, Eyra, I've seen it.
She thought he would listen to her. She was special to him, his best friend and the only one who could calm him down. 
He didn't listen. He never did. But maybe it was a good thing, as when saying goodbye to him, in the middle of the boat full of people, with his family looking at her, she found the courage to kiss him for the first time. And then hugged him tightly, begging him to come back alive and to be safe. 
He did came back, and when she saw him again, realizing he was alive... Eyra kissed him again so hard she almost made him fell to the fire. Ubbe laughed for hours because of that. 
Aslaug was dead, Lagertha killed her and called herself queen of Kattegat. Ivar was angry, sad and frustrated. And she became his main support then; she taught him to be patient and to love someone, she inspired him in so many ways... He learnt a lot of things thanks to her, including the fact that he could definitely pleasure a woman, in more than one way. 
But of course with the love came the jealousy, the possessiveness and the fights. Both of them were stubborn and whenever the two of them fought even Björn would leave the room.
Nevertheless, she was always there for him, and he was always there for her, and honestly that was all they needed. 
Loving all the brothers as her own family made the fights unbearable to Eyra, though. 
Everything was going too well, she thought, sighing and looking away from Ivar and Björn. 
Björn wanted to go to the Mediterranean again, but Ivar didn't want to stay in England farming. He was in the mood to argue with someone as he turned to look at the rest of the army, who were feasting and cheering.
"Who can stand in our way now?" Ivar screamed, and they cheered again. 
She bit her lip, looking at him. Ubbe frowned next to her, looking at his little brother. 
"You cannot lead the army, Ivar"
"I don't want to, Ubbe" he used that condescending tone "All I'm saying is that, for those who are still brave enough to raid and find adventure then, I will lead them... You can put on an apron and settle down if you want to... And Eyra agrees with me"
You sighed, looking away.
"Everyone should be free of choosing what they want to do, Ivar, don't mock someone for wanting a quiet and peaceful life" she glared at him.
"I'm not mocking anyone!" He widened his eyes, raising his hands and shrugging "I just know that is not the viking way"
"But it will take a great man, Ivar" Hvitserk intervened "To stake a claim in here, to defend it"
Eyra nodded, agreeing with him, but Ivar ignored her. 
"Ah, that does not sound like yourself, dear brother, the Hvitserk I know loves to raid, he's a real viking... What you just said, and what Eyra and Ubbe are saying is not the viking way"
"Your father was a farmer before being king, Ivar, don't forget that" she raised her eyebrow. 
He looked at his lover, pressing his lips together, but didn't argue with her, turning around to look at the crowd again. 
"So, who among you will follow me? Who will follow me into battle? For the love of fame and for the love of Odin, our All Father?" he screamed, smirking in victory when they cheered again. 
Eyra was aware of the looks Sigurd had given to Ivar during his speech, and during the conversation with his brothers. She knew what was going to happen. 
Everyone was used to their fights, but she couldn't help but tense up every time they started. Ivar almost did it once. 
"We are the sons of Ragnar, we have to stick together" 
Ivar smirked, and you knew it was on. 
"Frankly, dear Sigurd, I don't care what you say" he tilted his head, and ignored the kick Eyra gave him on his leg and her glare "The truth is, I wouldn't even piss down your throat even if your lungs were on fire" he mocked while emptying the content of his cup on the floor. She gasped and frowned when some people laughed. 
"Ivar" she hissed "Don't say that"
"Is the truth, Eyra" Ivar smirked "I couldn't care less for what he says"
"He is your brother" the girl narrowed your eyes. 
She could be in love with Ivar, but Sigurd was like a brother to her, and she hated to see them fight. 
"Well maybe that's because you're not really a man, are you, Boneless?" Sigurd replied, and she widened her eyes looking at him, feeling Ivar tense up next to her "You wouldn't make Eyra lie about it and she wouldn't have to find other men who can actually pleasure her if you were"
"Sigurd!" She screamed, her cheeks turning red in rage "Leave me out of this and don't spread lies about me!" She wanted to kill them both at that exact moment. Luckily her self-control was better than Ivar's "And please learn how to behave like brothers, both of you!"
Ivar was angry, it almost scared her when she saw that look. 
"So" Björn decided to ignore them and talked to the rest of the men, who were looking at the brothers in amusement "Who's going to stay here and farm?"
Harald Finehair raised from his seat then, smiling to Björn.
"I would like to stay, but I have other plans" he raised his cup "Skål" 
"Skål" everyone answered, and Eyra took a sip of her drink, to try and calm down with her heart beating faster and faster. 
His brother Halfdan stood up to, revealing his wish of sailing with Björn to the Mediterranean. That seemed to relieve the eldest of the Ragnarssons, who took it as an excuse to leave the main table and join his new travel companion to hug him.
"Then it seems that the only thing that really kept the sons of Ragnar together was the death of their father"
"Poor Björn, it is you who doesn't want to keep the army together, it is you who want to go away to sunny places!" Ivar snapped, and she jumped, startled "Everyone else can follow me"
"Ivar" she said softly. She just wanted him to calm down, to relax...
But Sigurd wanted to keep pushing, and Eyra didn't have enough strength to stop the fight then. 
"I don't want to follow you Ivar. You are crazy, you have the mind of a child!" 
"And all you do is play music, Sigurd"
"Ubbe please" she begged, whispering "Please make them stop"
"They won't listen, Eyra" he squeezed her hand to calm her down "It's fine, calm down"
Calm down? How could she calm down? She could feel the anger coming out of Ivar's body. She could see it in the way he frowned, in how he clenched his jaw and his hands gripped the arms of the chair painfully tight .
"I'm just as much a son of Ragnar as you are" Sigurd shrugged, unbothered by Ivar's remark. 
"I'm not so sure. As far as I remember Ragnar didn't play the oud... And he certainly didn't offer his arse to other men!"
"Ivar!" This time she jumped, knowing neither Ubbe or Hvitserk would do anything to stop them "Please, stop, you're brothers, don't do this"
"I can't believe you're with him, Eyra" Sigurd glared at you "He doesn't deserve you, he will get tired of you and then toss you aside like a toy, and you know that but still stay with him"
"Sigurd, please, don't do this... You're angering him, and both of you are saying nonsense because you've drank..."
"It's not nonsense, Eyra, and don't get involved, this does not concern you" Ivar glared at her, clenching his jaw. She was used to his rage, his bad mood and his yelling. But there was something different on his eyes. 
"You make me laugh!" Sigurd mocked him, and Eyra closed her eyes, shaking her head. Next to her, Ubbe grabbed her arm softly, ready to shove Eyra away from the table in case the argument escalated "Just like you do when you crawl around like a baby"
"Sigurd, please don't say that" she wanted to cry then. They wouldn't listen to her, they could kill each other right there and no one could do nothing. Only watch how her own family fought, how they tried to humiliate each other in front of a whole army. 
"It must be frustrating to be with a man who only crawls around and who cannot pleasure you either, Eyra" Sigurd was now smirking. 
She wanted to scream in that moment, to say that Ivar could in fact pleasure her, in many ways, she wanted to hit both of them too, to make them see they were fighting their own blood... 
"Shut your mouth!" Ivar yelled, and Eyra had never ever heard that tone on his voice. He hit the table too, and it made her jump. 
"Enough!" Björn interrupted, with an annoyed voice "Listen to Eyra, she's the only rational person over there now" 
"This has nothing to do with you!" Ivar yelled again. And he hit the table again. She didn't dare to even touch him, giving him some space so he could calm down. 
"What's the matter, Ivar? You can't take it?" Sigurd kept pushing him. Surely he had to see his brother's rage, he could see he was losing control.
"Ubbe please" she muttered, her voice broken in panic.
"Ivar" Ubbe spoke softly to his little brother, smiling "Do not listen to him"
"Ivar look at me" she tried to do what she always did, to calm him down, to help him "Come on, don't listen, okay, just look at me"
Ivar did look at her, and he seemed to soften a bit before Sigurd decided to speak again.
"No, I guess it must be hard for you now that your mommy is dead, knowing she's the only one who ever really loved you" 
That was it. 
Everyone saw it in a slow motion. Eyra saw Ivar losing control completely. She saw his hand, reaching for the axe he kept next to his seat. 
Ubbe saw it too.
"Ivar" he warned. Eyra stood up then, ready to take that axe from his hand. He wouldn't throw it, would he? No, he was his brother... "Ivar..." Ubbe's tone became urgent, and he shoved the girl away from the table when he understood what she was going to do. When he saw it coming and knew she couldn't stop it "Ivar!" 
A scream. And then there was silence. Everyone looked at Sigurd as the axe hit him, as he looked at Ivar with hatred on his eyes and took the axe out of his body. Gripping the handle and walking over to Ivar. 
"No" she muttered, not really knowing what she was doing as she tried to reach Ivar. She really was willing to cover Ivar when his brother intended to bury that axe on his head. 
For most of the people watching she must look like a crazy woman. 
But Sigurd didn't touch Ivar. He collapsed onto the floor, and then Eyra realized what had happened. 
She couldn't remember much. Just crying hugging Sigurd's body, looking at Ivar's shocked and confused face. 
Her family started to break apart then. 
Tags: @mblaqgi @lol-haha-joke @tephi101 @alicedopey @hallowed-heathen   @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1
I hope I didn’t miss anyone! If you want to be tagged just message me💜 and if you don’t want to be tagged anymore message me too! 
As I was saying: this is practically the original storyline; I wanted to keep Sigurd alive, but I needed to change his relationship with Ivar and that was a bit more difficult... I would love to keep Sigurd, but I couldn't 💔 I made the reader mourn him though(?).
Also with this I’m not implying I can write a better series than the actual writers of the series, not at all please... I just felt like changing the story on my own way and sharing it with all of you😘 
Oh! this started as Ivar/Reader but it’s not necessarily just that! This can change during the story!☺️
I hope you like it, thank you for reading!💕
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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 6 years ago
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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós
Chapter 6 : Dangerous Waters
A/N : Again, all the gifs belong to respective owners.
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Erika woke up early, as usual, and made herself to the Great Hall where the thralls had already prepared the table for breakfast. Today, the forces that were being assembled by the brothers were finally arriving from all of Norway. Forces from Denmark, Sweden and Norway alike were filling the center and port of Kattegat. It was almost refreshing to see so many who admired Ragnar but it caused an uncertainty within her, seeing as it would mean she would have to have a face off with the people she cared for, presumably Aethelwulf and his sons. Hvitserk did not return home last night at all, she noticed that. She had her suspicions but she'll have to settle for an answer while they have breakfast. She was playing with the necklace sent my her brother as wedding gift, even though it won't be until they have defeated King Aelle. But then again, it would not take long to finish it as it wasn't going to be much on an event since most of the guests that day will consist of the Vikings. Her brother however, did promise to attend and she hoped he would not forget that.
It was her mother's, which was also her wedding gift by her sister. So it held a much more meaningful significance to her. Slowly, the others started to occupy the room and took their respective seats by the table. “I assume you had an eventful night last night, Hvitserk.” She decided to start off the awkward morning with an equally awkward conversation. Was she trying to embarrass him? Not really. They are, after all, ‘vikings’. Nothing bothers them. “He surely did.” Sigurd snickered and she had already confirmed her suspicions when the males of the family smirked. “How are you not jealous, Ubbe?” The raven haired princess found herself asking the elder brother in genuine curiosity. She still has a lot to learn on their tradition and ways.
“And please don't say it's because you're Vikings. You said it as if it's supposed to bring a whole new other meaning.” Before Ubbe could have the chance to speak his turn, she had already cut him off, giving off this brief statement. That was when he did not reply, affirming her thoughts of their answers for almost everything. Which was ‘it's because we're Vikings'. “Aren't you supposed to be territorial? How are you able to share so easily?” Ubbe shrugged, sipping his ale before answering. “He's my brother. I don't see why not. Both of them like each other-” Sigurd had thrown a piece of food towards Ubbe who was taken aback. He forgot the one asking was his future sister in law who was going to wed his youngest brother soon. That was when he decided to clamp his mouth shut. “Why were you asking, princess? Does this not exist in your culture as well? It's all good relations.” King Harald spoke, sitting just across her as he expressed his genuine curiosity.
“I would not ask if it was a normality, King Harald. I wouldn't know. Our traditions are very distinctive between each other. I'm not a Viking, so I don't share. We have strict laws in marriage. Only the King can have concubines. They don't have second wives and whatnot.” It was clear that she had given a sort of warning towards Hvitserk to stop messing around after their marriage. It was not an issue of jealousy but it was more on the issue of respect. She wasn't going to be made out a fool in this marriage. It was a sacred union and she intends to keep it mild and justifiable. “And what would you do if your husband are caught cheating?” Halfdan continued. Shrugging it off casually, the Russian born woman placed her spoon on the side after finishing her meal. “In our good faith, fidelity is the most admirable trait for a wife. So there's no real repercussions to the said punishments. But, there are always other ways to deliver it.” She grinned innocently which caused Hvitserk to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he struggled to finish his food, for the very first time.
While that caused a proud feeling to swell in her, she did not wish to condemn him into a loveless marriage. Despite being the cold hearted abrasive person she was, she was not that cruel. She believed in good will. Perhaps, one day, they will find it in both of them, to make good use of the marriage. Although she was not hopeful to receive a happy ending, a decent path could be more than enough to suffice. In attempts to push the awkwardness filling the air of the morning, she decided to tell them the plans for their upcoming battle. It would definitely pique their interest and successfully evade the situation earlier. “Bjorn, do you have a map on England?” It was important for them to have one if she was going to properly administer every tactical points. The Ironside nodded and gave her a scroll of which she identified to be the map. It wasn't that big enough for her to explain but it would suffice for now, until she presents them with the real one she had saved under her cabinets in her former room at Wessex.
Everyone stopped their eating and soon the table was cleansed off everything. What remained was the empty spot and space for her to draw the map. Erika spreads the map out that covers only a quarter of the table, with Bjorn's help. She was handed a quill by the thrall so she could draw on the map. It was the quill she has been using for years whenever she needed to make tactical strategies. For someone who grew up under the supervision of King Ecbert, it was not a surprise to see her so advanced towards such practice. She came from a broken kingdom that was struggling with power and the English King wanted her to be ready for everything, if it comes to the day she will return. Unfortunately for him, every single one of his teachings would end up being his upcoming demise. Circling the three capital cities of each three kingdoms in England; Northumbria, Wessex, and Mercia, she drew a line to connect all three.
“There are three kingdoms in England. We have two kings as of now. King Aelle of Northumbria and King Ecbert of Wessex and Mercia. Your main and primary target is King Aelle, who rules Northumbria. That is an easy pass, considering Northumbria is a- perhaps, the smallest kingdom against the the other two. It’s far from the sea too, which means you will be able to access the kingdom at its foot. The same way Ragnar did when he led the first raid there. Through the sea coastline. It will take them at least a day to finally find out what was occurring since they only send out patrolling guards twice every week. I'm sure that will somehow change now. I told you, your advantages. The sea, and the fact that you can outnumber his army easily since the alliance between both kings are no longer being held on. But, you are also at a disadvantage because King Aelle knows you're coming. He will be prepared. The patrolling guards will be sent out a lot more frequently than before, perhaps. The security will be heightened. But they are a small kingdom and there is only so much they can do. Your possible route to engage in the battle would be here— the field. This is where he would be waiting for you. It depends on either side on who gets there first. My conclusion is that you will be able to defeat King Aelle easily as he will not have soldiers fortifying anywhere, which means you can come from all corners. He doesn't have the number and due to his ignorance, he will underestimate you.”, she said, writing off Northumbria from the map.
It was until then, Ivar pointed at the other side of the kingdom to another one, Wessex. “What about the one here? We will defeat Northumbria, but what of Wessex?” The youngest Ragnarsson averted his steely cold blue eyes from the map and to the princess who was a bit taken aback by the question. “You want to take on Wessex as well? I thought your retribution is only with King Aelle?” The Russian questioned carefully, her eyes searching for everyone in the room to answer her question. She did not want Ivar to answer it. “Ivar said our father asked us to avenge him towards King Ecbert just as well. I can understand why. He did give up our father to King Aelle in the first place.” Ubbe pointed out, clearing his throat briefly as he explained. She was left battling with her own self. ‘Should I tell them. I should.. My brother asked me to aid their every need. But I would be betraying Aethelwulf..’ When she did not answer, Bjorn's roaring voice interrupted her own train of thoughts when he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Dove? What should we expect from King Ecbert.”
With her hand slightly trembling under the tremor of her own voice betraying her, she drew an x on the three main corners of Wessex. However, she stopped halfway and looked at them. “King Ecbert is the King of two kingdoms now. Wessex was already vast in the first place as an independent kingdom. So was Mercia, as it was the richest kingdom of all England. Now combined and joined together, there was no doubt it would have been more prosperous than before. Even Repton had quite the number of security,” she mumbled, biting her bottom lip as she tried to reason with them. “Is it because you're one of them? Huh, lille ild? You grew up with them. Of course you would try to save your Christian people-” Ivar had a tendency to rile her anger and temper, and now it was slowly fighting its way out. “Yes. Is that what you wanted to hear? Then I will say it. King Ecbert was my ward. He took me when no one else would, in fear that they would be killed off by the ones who sought out for my death. But I couldn't care less about the old man. Who I truly care about is his son, the commander of his army, Prince Aethelwulf. He raised me up and groomed me to be the person I am today, and I raised his sons. I would be facing them off in the battlefield, betraying him after he had nurtured me with every knowledge possible about the kingdom. So yes! I wouldn't want to have to tell his sons that I killed their father. Not physically, but mentally. Consider him dead the moment I stabbed his trust by betraying him and aiding his enemy. Using the armies we posted at their kingdom for you to go against him, instead of using them to honour our alliance and friendship!”
The sudden outburst from the petite foreigner had shocked everyone in the room. The rage she felt was almost sympathizing. Loyalty and fidelity seemed to be everything in her code of honour. And they could respect that, but at the end of the day, what they cared was how to crush their enemies. “We will use the army you have dispatched at all three kingdoms. We'll rendezvous with the vanguard in Repton. We will configure out the rest after we have breached every possible fort they have available.” Hearing the words coming out from Bjorn made Erika clench both her fists as she listened to every plan they had. It was as if nothing had changed. She can't wait to go back to England. But then she would be coming face to face with her friend that she had betrayed silently.
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“How do you do it so easily..”, she croaked out, her voice feeling a little bit off and scratchy after the mental outburst she had the moment she came back to her room. She was now leaning against the bench, staring out into the fjord when she saw Bjorn coming out from the Great Hall. He stopped on his tracks when he heard her voice. “It doesn't get easier. But you will have to make it get easier. If you don't, you'll lose. And in our world, if you lose, you're as good as dead. You didn't deserve to be put on such spot, but it was what must be done.” Sighing in the distance, she closed her eyes briefly before fluttering it back open. The night was hauntingly beautiful. The moon was gloating at her and she wanted to do nothing more than to strike it down. “I will be departing back to England tomorrow at first light. You will see me off, would you?” Bjorn gave her a nod before going off. Somehow, she sees him as an older brother figure. She felt familiar and similar to whatever he was doing. He reminds her a lot of Ragnar, despite not knowing so much about the latter. But she knew, she could always trust her instincts. Like he said, it won't get easier. She best make it get easier.
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She could not sleep a wink last night. Not after what Bjorn told her so late in the night. She kept thinking of his words since then. He was not wrong when he said she needed to get herself used to it, if she wants to survive in the new world. Despite looking hollow about it, she knew better than to display or showcase her state to anyone, especially them. It was a weakness. When she was overseeing the preparations done on the ship that was to take her back to Wessex, she was shortly joined by Hvitserk. It didn't seem like he was with any other company. “Here to bid me off? Aren't you an exemplary husband material, Hvitserk.” She chuckled as the raven haired princess teased the flaxen haired prince's presence. “I should be, shouldn't I? If any of us were going to set a good example.” The answer caught her off guard but nonetheless, the princess offered him a smile that was almost betraying herself.
The facade she was wearing over her other mask was devastatingly beautiful. “It's a hard choice you had to make.. But you made it nonetheless. I hope you see it as a strength rather than failure. To aid us in avenging our father despite getting nothing out of it— truly it's- we are thankful.” Weirdly enough, his tone indicated he was trying to ease her worries and guilt. “I follow whatever my King tells me to. I intend to be the most loyal subject and devoted to both my family and King. He's all I have left. It would be absurd for me to disappoint him.” She breathed in the cold air of the morning before turning to face the tall prince. “Thank you nonetheless, Hvitserk.” She tilted her head slightly in a sign of lowering her sight to respect him. As the others joined together at the port to bid her farewell into a fair journey, Hvitserk had a smile adorning his features until Ubbe noticed but did not say anything until she was well off from any sight. “I'll see you when you arrive in Northumbria, your Highnesses. I await your arrival.”
Ubbe nudged his younger brother who then was shaken by the sudden push. “Why you smiling about, brother? Did she say anything to you privately? And why did you come here earlier than any of us? Hoping to establish a standing point of relationship with your future wife?” The elder Ragnarsson kept bombarding him with questions he did not bother to answer and dismissed it off aimlessly. Hvitserk noticed he was absentmindedly liking when she calls or regards him using his name rather than using their abysmal nicknames. By the time he returned to the Great Hall, Ivar was spouting nonsense about Erika. Was it really nonsense if he had every right to be suspicious of her?
“I'm telling you. She might betray us the first chance she gets. Why did you send her off earlier?” An almost animalistic growl stretched out from his youngest brother's throat. It was so feral-like. “Because we need her to prepare the forces there. No one would follow us if she didn't have a say in it. She knows the kingdoms better than any one of us. It didn't seem like she could serve a better agenda and purpose being here, either. So I suggest you shut up, Ivar, for this is a serious matter and I do not need your useless temper tantrums to ruin what we have established with the Ruriks.” Bjorn warned, his striking blue eyes gleaming with annoyance as his tone dripped in venom. It was a caution for the cripple, not that he would care less. Ivar knew to get his way most of the time and that terrifies Hvitserk and the others utterly. Even when they would not show it.
It was more than clear to everyone, that Ivar held a particular distaste towards the Russian princess. Whether it was due to her personality and fiery self who never ceased to throw Ivar’s words back around to hit the owner, or her heritage of being a foreigner and a Christian, no one was really sure. But the fact that he was so adamant into convincing others to push her off the board as soon as possible was burdensome yet very suspicious. Hvitserk did not want anything to befall the cranky royal, as he found himself wanting to establish a better standing on their current status. He didn't like the idea of settling down so soon as he was still young , especially with someone he barely even knew. Unfortunately for the prince, he, more than anyone knew fully well that it would be suicide for him to cause any trouble in their matrimonial union. As long as she wields the upper hand in their organization, she was untouchable. And for him, as long as his wife could wield a knife properly, that was more than enough reasons not to test her. She bested him once during a sword fight. There was more to her than she would let others know and he was sure, that he was not the only one who finds her enigmatic.
But one thing is for sure. Erika was playing with dangerous waters, and she knows it. How well she cultivates her circle is entirely up to her, and the third eldest brother had his suspicion that she will turn them over without flinching. And the worst thing was, they might not realise what she's threading up her sleeves.
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directionlessbuthappy · 7 years ago
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Redeemed
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Princess Blaeja of Northumbria is visiting her sister and family in Wessex. She is a curious girl, wanting to learn about the heathens and believing that God kept her safe in the many years the raids ravaged her homeland. She has big dreams of stopping the war before it starts, and now she finally gets her chance with the arrival of the old and weak Ragnar Lothbrok, accompanied by one of his sons.
 Taglist sisters: @cbouvier23 @steadypiepsychicflower @fireismysaftey @holydream @captstefanbrandt @my-little-wolfe
The first time she felt the unusual and alien level of fear that swept her people, she was young.
Her sister told her of the first years the Northmen invaded England. They stormed monasteries, destroyed places of worship, laid waste and spilled the blood of good Christian women, priests, children... They were considered demons in Wessex. In Northumbria, they were considered monsters in men's skin. But still, in a way, men. She studied them in secret. Her father held a long ridden hatred for the Northmen. He swore by God that one day he would kill their leader, Ragnar Lothbrok, for betraying an agreement they made so long ago.
And now her father wold fulfill that promise to God.
She was visiting her sister in Wessex when they arrived. An old man and a crippled boy around her age. She held her sister's arm tightly while the guards subdued them both. In truth, she wasn't impressed. This was who all of England hated and feared? These were the agents of Satan?
"Is that him Judith?" she asked.
"Yes, it is," her sister replied emotionlessly. Ragnar Lothbrok was a broken old man from the looks of it. Shackled quickly, he and his comrade were separated and locked away. All of Wessex was mumbling about Ragnar Lothbrok's return after ten years of being away from England. She was more curious though; whispers and gossip would not suffice. She had been under her sister's watchful eye since she'd arrived in Wessex. Judith didn't want her sister finding out more than she needed to; her arrangement with Ecbert was too important. 
"Blaeja, you are not to leave this room without a guard. Especially with the Northmen about."
She ignored that advice, escaping the guard with only a few requests to send them reluctantly away. She was a princess; she held a great sway over Ecbert's guard with that status, combined with her sister's favor. And while in Judith's favor, she was a friend to Ecbert. Her actions from here on out may tamper that favor, however.
Blaeja snuck away to the castle dungeons. Ragnar was being kept here, but it wasn't Ragnar she was interested in. She'd heard all the stories; she knew all the tales of the mighty King Ragnar Lothbrok. What she was really interested in was Ragnar's companion. How did a great warrior king end up with no army, and one boy?
She was weak when it came to opening doors. One of the guard did so for her, and when he insisted to stay, she sent him away.
Such commands were foreign to Ivar. The woman before him was around his age. She was a big scrawny, but she had such a delicate looking face. She was pretty. It made him nervous.
Blaeja walked to stay in front of Ivar. He was chained by the wrist to the ground; normally, prisoners had their ankles chained.
"You are the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, yes?" she asked him in his native tongue. Ivar's blue eyes almost rolled out of his head in shock.
"You...understand me?"
"I've studied," she replied softly. Her gaze turned away from him for a moment. She was nervous as well... good, he thought. She should fear me. All these Christians should.
Ivar turned his head. He refused to speak to this girl. Whoever she was, he wouldn't trust her.
"Are you his son?" she asked innocently. Ivar gave no response. Blaeja frowned and sat on the floor. It confused Ivar; she wore a fancy dress and head scarf, why would she sit in filth? Maybe she was dumb as well.
"My name is Blaeja. I am Princess Judith's sister...." she bit her lip before continuing. "And King Aelle's daughter."
Ivar looked up at her again. It perked his interest; a king's daughter? Aelle was the one who wanted to kill Ragnar. Ivar's father told him Aelle would succeed.
"I am Ivar," he replied. "Ivar the Boneless."
"Boneless?" she echoed, glancing at his legs. The action made Ivar look away in shame. "You cannot walk."
"Yes," he replied between his teeth.
"You have weak bones?" she asked innocently. Ivar looked up at her again; she was so pretty, a darling really...no. She was a Christian. An enemy. Another woman who would laugh at his shortcomings. 
"I had a sister like you."
Ivar's eyes went slightly wide for a moment. Blaeja resisted the urge to grin; she was lying of course, but she had to appeal to him. Connect with him so he could see the Truth.
"She was born around ten years ago. I was a little girl then...I did not understand what happened to her. She died very young. Our mother never spoke of her from the moment she was born. The wet nurses hardly strayed far from her...our family abandoned her once my mother decided she was malformed. Your family did not abandon you, did they?"
Ivar swallowed. In her story, it sounded like these Christians did not do what his people normally would. Ivar's life was nothing short of his mother's mercy; without her, he would be dead. 
"They did not," Ivar replied simply. The raven haired Christian woman nodded with a warm smile.
"I am glad they didn't."
Blue eyes narrowed at the princess. "Why have you come here? To brag to a son of Ragnar how you will kill my father? Or to kill me?"
"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Blaeja said with an incredulous look on her face. "Killing is barbaric, Ivar...I do not want my father to kill yours. Even if yours is a heathen. My father is an angry man. He was always angry even before Ragnar Lothbrok came here."
The prince of Kattegat chuckled, seeing that small bit of fear flash in the girl's eyes. A glimpse into his father's past and the bloody mark he carved into this land. That fear ignited his confidence again. He remembered who he was...Ivar the Boneless, Scourge of the World.
"You are unwise to come here little girl," Ivar purred. "I never forget a face. I will remember yours when my people come to take our revenge..."
"Perhaps you won't have to," Blaeja stuttered. She was caught off guard as his change in posture. He sat up a bit taller and had a distant look in his eye. Those blue eyes looked like they could see into the future. If such a thing was possible....the princess suspected witchcraft for a moment. "The Lord delivers those who live righteously. War is wrong, Ivar, son of Ragnar. It is bloodshed and murder...both are considered against the commandments of God. But all can be saved by God just as easily as they are damned. I want to help you see."
Ivar chuckled darkly. "Your god is weak, then."
"My God is merciful as his wrath is mighty," she quipped. It made Ivar pause in chuckling, giving her a pronounced grin before lurching at his chain just to scare her.
"You have not yet seen my wrath, Christian girl."
The princess stood up. She was disturbed. Not truly afraid of this young man...he was chained. He would not harm her. And yet he had the audacity to spit in the face of God to a woman who controlled his fate? Did he care so little for his own life? Blaeja considered Ivar the Boneless and his spitefulness. Most Englishmen would be grovelling to cut a deal with the king at this point.
"If you do not leave my family in peace, God will strike you down like one of Satan's servants. You cannot kill me or my people without consequence."
"Oh, I won't be killing you," Ivar snorted. "Perhaps I'll flay the rest of your family. But you...I have other ideas."
Blaeja clenched her jaw and turned away in shame. She'd seen men of the court hurl insults and vulgarity before, but never had any of it directed at her. To feel the sting of his insinuations send a chill down her back.
"Then we are done here, Ivar." The princess took her dress and walked crisply to the door, knocking to be let out. The guard outside complied and released her. Ivar's laughing followed her out, and down the hall, and to her room in her nightmares that evening. It would follow her forever.
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ivars-snowflake · 7 years ago
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The little Witch of Kattegat, Part IX
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Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
Pairing: Ivar & OC Ase
Wordcount: 1710 cca
Warnings: Violence
Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated! :)
tags: @red608, @onjacks-blog @romanchronicles, @oddsnendsfanfics, @kenzieam, @didiintheblog
The sight was marvelous. Her whole body trembled in fear just a mere moment ago, when she watched him lying on the ground, but as he growled now, blood covering his face, all she could do was to believe his words. He made her believe. He is Ivar the Boneless, they cannot kill him. Though he forbade her to be anywhere near the battle, she ignored his words, he had no power over her, not the power that would give him the right to command her. She creeped up the stairs to the tower, knowing it would make him angry, but worried to much too care. She watched his face, covered in blood, his voice was sending shivers down her spine. She watched everyone freeze at the sight, and it brought a smile upon her face. The sight was wondrous, he looked so beautifully insane, and she needed him so bloody much. She bit her lip strong enough to taste blood, staring at Ivar with greedy eyes.
It was another battle won, the town of York remained theirs, and another strike was given to the enemy. She found Ivar after the battle, sitting on the stairs of the altar in the Christian church. His face was still bloody, and his eyes still mad. The bodies of the dead were splattered across the room, but she didn’t mind. The things Ivar had awoken in her scared, yet intrigued her so much. This time, she would not allow him to push her away.
She was torn on the inside, ever since the two have gotten together, more so since her own madness started to feel drawn by his – torn between Ivar, and her right mind. And she kept choosing Ivar. She loved him so much, it terrified her. It terrified her what she would do for him. Moments like today, when blood would flow like a river, they made her blood run hot, she would feel the lust sting. People were dying, and all she could think of was Ivar’s body below hers. She felt it when king Aelle died, but it wasn’t this strong, she was able to resist. But this, now, there was no resisting it.
He was alone, and she approached him and straddled his lap, her lips pursuing his. She licked the blood of them, and the kiss tasted like iron, like wrath. Of all the kisses they shared, this one was different. She was kissing the devil, as her skilled fingers played around with his pants. The skirt of her dress went up, and right there, in the middle of all the death and silence, her screams tore the air apart.
***
Her vision was blurry, and the morning sun didn’t make it any better, when she came bursting out of the church and away from Ivar. Angry, furious in fact, hurt and oblivious, the last thing she wanted was to break down crying in front of him.
They were fighting a lot lately. Ivar lost a lot lately, and his way of coping with it somehow included pushing Ase away, and losing one person more. It was a collision of their wishes – Ase’s wish to be by his side and chase his demons away, and Ivar’s wish for Ase to be safe, as far away from him as it was necessary. He saw the effect he had on her, he feared the things she would do for him, and he feared he would eventually ruin her. He feared that she would die, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening. He saw her become restless, fearless, relentless. She, on the other hand, tried her hardest to stay by his side, no matter his angry outbursts and desperate attempts to make her go away. Though her love had known no boundaries, her patience had.
She was walking angrily, silently cursing and gesticulating while she kept yelling at him inside her mind.
-Whoa, easy there!
A voice startled her, and she felt a firm grip on her wrist, saving her the fall, and sparing her from yet another bruise.
-What did he do to you?
She blinked a few times, making the tears go away, before she fixed her gaze on the man, pulling her hand from his grip.
-People fight, king Harald. Now, if you’ll excuse me…
She liked him, but wasn’t really in a mood for a chat about lover’s quarrels with him. Turning on her heel, with hasty steps she tried to rush away, but he stopped her.
-I’ll be leaving in soon, little one, and there’s something I need to talk to you about while I’m still here.
Confused, but curious, she stopped and gave him a questioning look. Her eyebrows furrowed in a way he found so familiar, making her look exactly like a woman he once knew and loved.
-Somewhere more private, yes? Ase nodded, and followed Harald.
With everyone still celebrating the victory, the yard behind the church was empty and unusually quiet. Not knowing what to expect of this encounter, Ase kept her gaze fixed on Harald, while he tried to find the right words to start their conversation. He appeared nervous, Ase never saw him nervous. She watched him closely, the way he would rub his palms together to calm down, or how his eyes would wander around, only to avoid meeting hers. She found it funny, the fact that the great King Harald, who aspires to become the king of all Norway, would act almost as ridiculous as she does when she’s nervous. It felt like hours passed before he cleared his throat and finally started talking.
-So, Ase…when I first saw you in the Great Hall, there was something about you that seemed oddly familiar. Your hair, the way you walk, almost as if you were floating, the smile. I asked Hvitserk and Sigurd about you, and they told me a few things, but they never told me your name. I found that out from Ivar, along with the story of how you came to Kattegat, of your mother, the rumors…it just, confirmed my doubts.
She listened carefully, not sure where this conversation would eventually lead, but king Harald knew something about her that she did not, and she was ready to hear what it was. Ever since she discovered a few of her mother’s secrets, she would often wonder about her origins, about her abilities, about her family. Maybe, this was the moment to find things out.
-I met your mother on one of my raids, on the north, we were camping near the village called Rooreksgil. Her hair was as red as yours, and her spirit was as wild as yours back then. I was sad to hear she passed away. When she left, and took you with her, my heart broke and I was angry, I never thought I’d find you again, least of all in Kattegat. Yet here you are.
He cupped her face with his hands, and Ase would swear she saw a tear glistening somewhere in those eyes, whose shade of blue was so similar to hers. They were so similar to hers…
-You knew her…you are… Her thoughts were in a mess, and it was hard to form sentences while words were all mixed up, for she expected some insight into her past, her mother’s background, her story. What she got, was something entirely different.
-Yes, I’ve known her. I loved her. I thought she loved me to, but she used me to escape her home. Maybe she would have learned to love me, if her past hadn’t followed her and made her run. Sometimes, one can’t escape who one is. And the witches of Rooreksgil, they wanted what they thought was theirs. When your mother gave birth to you, she was in constant fear of you being taken by her family. They gave her up, because she always refused to practice any sort of magic, but they wouldn’t give you up. They came to claim you one day, when you turned three. Of course, I would never let them take you, but your mother, she was convinced that I can’t protect you. So one day, she was gone. And so were you.
It took a while for Ase to come to her senses. She was unaware of the tears, that were now running down her cheeks while she listened to his story and her soul ached, but her body was unresponsive. Her mind went numb, before she suddenly got angry, then happy, feelings mixing up inside of her to the point where she did not know what it is that she’s feeling. She was sitting in front of her father, the man she never thought she’d meet. And he was no monster, as her mother convinced her he would be. That woman, was anything she ever said even true?
-Did you…did you try to find her? Us?
-Oh, yes. I was trying so desperately I even asked for the help of her family. But your mother, though she was never into practicing magic, was a master of protection and veiling spells. In the first three years of your life, all she ever did was learn new spells to protect and hide you. But she got so paranoid…I guess I should have seen it coming, but I did not.
 A heavy sigh left Ase’s lungs, her hand covering her mouth, to silence the sobbing. The more she knew about her mother, the greater her list of resentments was becoming. It’s why she held on to Ivar with such force and protectiveness, his love was the only certain thing in her life. It was something she needed to keep, no matter the price.
-Now that I found you, I wouldn’t want to leave you here alone again.
She smiled warmly at him, cheeks still stained by tears, and shook her head, as she let her hand to rest on his. She was so happy, not only has her father found her, he also wanted her around, he was everything but the things her mother said he would be. Another tear escaped her, thinking how different her life could have been, if only her mother didn’t make the decision she did. And now it was Ase who needed to make her decision.
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