#sigurd lothbrok imagine

[mads-weasley]

Next Time

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After being pushed by Ivar and the rest of his brothers, Hvitserk finally speaks to the girl he'd been admiring for months, but an unwelcome interruption breaks the conversation before he can get more than her name.

Word Count: 1.1k

The great hall was alive with chatter, but Hvitserk didn't may it any mind. His attention was stuck across the room...on her.

"You are staring again, brother," Ubbe commented gruffly, sipping his ale.

Hvitserk grinned, his eyes not leaving her figure. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Ubbe?"

With a grunt, Ubbe returned to his meal and ignored his younger brother. A few minutes later, Ivar and Sigurd joined them, and all it took was an annoyed glance from Ubbe to cue them in on the situation.

"I don't know about you, Hvitserk," Ivar said, following his gaze to the girl. "But I think I will go talk to her."

Hvitserk finally tore his eyes from her, his lip twitching as he glared at his brother. "You will not, Ivar."

"And who will stop me?" he shrugged. "If you do not wish to speak to her, why can't I?"

Sigurd chuckled at Hvitserk's pouting expression but quickly hid it behind his cup of ale when his older brother's scowl turned to him. He knew they were right, of course, but it was easier to stare from a distance and admire...he didn't even know her name.

He was going to learn it tonight, he told himself as he rose from the table with a grunt. Downing the rest of his almost full cup, Hvitserk wiped his mouth and set off across the room.

Noticing the commotion from her throne, Auslaug watched Hvitserk cross the hall before shooting her oldest son a raised brow. Ubbe did nothing but chuckle and shrug back at his mother. If he was being honest, he was just happy Hvitserk was doing something about his crush. It had been months since the girl first arrived in Kattegat. He'd grown tired of Hvitserk's longing expressions and endless comments about the poor girl he was clearly infatuated with. They ribbed him endlessly about talking to her, but he remained in his seat each time, choosing to look instead of speak.

Hvitserk wove through the crowded hall with more confidence than he felt, the warm buzz of ale bolstering his courage. He thanked the gods he wasn't doing this sober because he probably would still be sitting beside Ubbe, watching her from afar. He ignored the knowing glances from his brothers at the table, especially Ivar, who wore a smirk as wide as the fjord before Kattegat.

Her back was to him, her (y/h/c) hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed at something one of the women beside her had said. Hvitserk couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling his nerves flicker in anticipation.

When Hvitserk reached the empty seat beside her, he hesitated briefly before pulling it out and plopping down in it with forced casualness.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, though it was clear he’d already decided to stay.

She glanced at him, her (y/e/c) eyes flickering with curiosity. “It would seem you’ve already made the decision, Hvitserk.”

Her voice was steady but amused, and the way she said his name...like it wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him...sent a spark of surprise through his chest. Hvitserk leaned back in his chair and quickly glanced over his shoulder at his brothers, trying to mask his excitement with a grin.

“Well, I thought it was about time we spoke,” he said, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “You’ve been in Kattegat for a while now, yet we haven’t been properly introduced.”

She raised a brow, clearly skeptical. “And whose fault is that?”

Hvitserk chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Fair enough. I guess I could've come over sooner, but...better late than never, yes?"

“You have an interesting way of making first impressions, Ragnarsson,” she replied with a playful glint in her eye. “But I’ll allow it. I’m (y/n).”

Hvitserk’s grin widened. “(Y/n),” he repeated, testing her name out, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. “It suits you.”

“And what exactly have I done to capture the attention of one of the great Ragnar Lothbrok’s sons?” she asked, her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

"You haven't done anything," he said, leaning closer, his grin growing into a cocky smirk. "It's hard to ignore someone who could make even the gods stop and stare."

Heat rushed to (y/n)'s face, and she laughed softly, looking away from his gaze. She knew he was handsome from a distance, but up close...with those eyes and that smirk...she felt herself melting.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud voice from behind her beat her to it prompting her name. "Do not let him fool you..."

(Y/n) turned around in her chair to look at the man, but her eyes fell to the ground...or rather who crawled on the ground. "(Y/n)."

Hvitserk groaned audibly, though he didn't look at his brother. "Not now, Ivar."

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Ivar said, smirking as he shakily used Hvitserk's chair to push himself to his feet. He looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s been staring at you like a lost pup for months.”

Leave it to Ivar to ruin a perfectly good conversation. Hvitserk could've strangled him right there.

“Ivar!” Hvitserk snapped, his face flushing as laughter erupted from the nearby tables.

(Y/n) forced herself to regain composure, tilting her head once again as she met his gaze. Her voice came out teasing, though the nervousness beneath was evident. “Is that true, Hvitserk?”

He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. “I suppose I have been...admiring you. From a distance,” he admitted sheepishly, shooting a pointed glare at Ivar.

“Well, next time, don’t wait so long to speak to me,” she replied with a smile, unable to hide a hint of affection now.

Hvitserk blinked for a moment, stunned. “Next time?”

She didn't answer and instead rose to her feet, leaving him sitting there as she walked toward the doors. Before disappearing into the cold night, she sent him one last smile.

Ivar's laughter followed her departure, his grin as sharp as ever "You're hopeless, poor Hvitserk."

Hvitserk watched her go, a slow grin spreading across his face despite himself. “Maybe. But at least she wants there to be a next time.”

"She will see she made a mistake, brother...once she gets to know you."

His eyes cut over to Ivar, who stared back with raised brows. In one movement, Hvitserk slid his chair back and stood, making Ivar lose balance and flop onto the hard floor with a loud thud.

"Oh no," Hvitserk tutted, staring at his wheezing form with a smirk. he didn't even try to hide it. "You must be careful, little brother."

A/N: message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

[kaivenom]

How are the viking's men when you raid together...

Warnings: small hints of suggested themes

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

Absolutely in love.

He is the more excited of the brothers to get you into raids.

Of course he fears about your safety but if you are with Ivar it's clearly that you know how to handle things like this.

Seeing you all covered in blood of your enemies, with weapons on your hands and that exhausted look, made him think you are a valkirie.

He gives you trinkets, even when the city has been destroyed and all the treasures of the city belong now to the vikings, he still gives you things he sees on another woman.

Sometimes you don't like how he gets after fights, becuase sadism in battles is good but tortures after that, no.

You try to reproach him about it, at first he gets angry, then he tries to be less sadist after that.

At the end, raiding with Ivar is a big adventure.

Ubbe Ragnarson

Very protective.

Expect him to be your shadow, attached to your side every second.

He kisses you after battle, he says he doesn't want to be in Valhalla without feeling your lips one last time.

In battle you both are always together, fighting in complete synchrony.

One thing he does when the battle ends that drives you crazy is kissing you. You both covered in dust and blood, exhausted from battling and he just goes to you with feral eyes, drops the sword/axe and kisses you furiously.

He doesn't like to make you gifts from the raids but instead you are the one who grants him things, he smiles like a child everytime.

Hvitserk Ragnarson

He thinks it's the best thing you both could do.

Like a vacation for the two of you, seeing new places and trying new food.

All the things he gains during the raids are YOUR things too, he gifts you everything he can.

He ussually tents to follow some jokes from other vikings about taking woman from the raids.

After seeing your face full of disgust, he never does it again, he wouldn't support seeing your eyes look at him like that again.

He always finds the higher spot on the place to spent the evening after raiding, organizing a picnic above all the bloody chaos of the under.

Sigurd Ragnarson

He doesn't like you going, he doesn't like going either.

You both only go when it's necesary because of his family.

When you are there, you both prefer to watch out the camp rather than enter in battle.

In fact, probably you are better warrior that him, so you protect him during the battles.

Being on the camp he always plays instruments to calm himself, and because of that you lay next to him and relax yourself too.

After battle he goes straight to your side and hughs you tightly, other vikings mock him about his not-so-manly behaviour.

Bjorn Ironside

He doesn't really care.

He thinks you can handle yourself, but unlike the others, that makes him let you get lost around.

He just watches you from afar with a serious face, expecting the unexpected.

A small grin appears on his face every once in a while, thinking about how badass you look.

The sight of seeing you covered in blood makes you look so desirable, he has to restrain himself from taking you right there.

You have to endure his cheater behaviour with foreign woman and getting slves everywhere.

But after battle you are euphoric and decide to put him on place.

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

Vikings FanFiction

MASTERLIST

Selethryth, a young lady with strange eyes and prophetic dreams, is both feared and revered in King Ecbert's court. Though he sees her as a powerful tool for his ambitions, it is Ivar, the brutal and unpredictable son of Ragnar, who is drawn to her. As their fates collide, Selethryth finds herself entangled in a dangerous game where her gifts may lead her into the arms of darkness.

If you like it, please reblog!

[All of my FanFictions Masterlist]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[blakeswritingimagines]

Who fell first and who fell harder

Ragnar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Athelstan: He fell first and harder.

Floki: You fell first and harder.

Lagertha: You fell first but she fell harder.

Aslaug: She fell first and harder.

Bjorn: You fell first but he fell harder.

Ubbe: He fell first but you fell harder.

Hvitserk: He fell first and harder.

Sigurd: He fell first but you fell harder.

Ivar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Halfdan: You fell first and harder.

Harald: He fell first and harder.

[mamamythics]

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:✦:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

┊┋ Pairing: Ubbe x OC

┊┋ Series Summary: "I see you'll create a

┊┋legacy and when you knew your end is

┊┋coming, that’s when you start lacking

┊┋in the one wish you desired the most

┊┋because of your adventurous ways”,

┊┋the tone in the childs voice as she

┊┋spoke to the great Ragnar with the

┊┋winds flowing through her silver black

┊┋hair that would gently swiftly moves in

┊┋the wind with the hues of her white like

┊┋grey slate eyes knowing her destiny

┊┋would soon start dealing with the sons

┊┋of Ragnar.

┊┋ Notes: Tw:

┊┋ 686 Words Count

┊┋ Masterlist

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:✦:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

As the day crossed while the ravens squalled in their morning routine, a woman walked out of her cobblestone little cottage and proceeded to her daily routine wearing a strap dress with an undergarment that was fitted to her curves-like shape body as her animal hide tunic wrapped around her shoulder strap as well.

☽☾☽☾

The young assiduous woman came to a halt when the presence of a familiar figure came upon her approach he, with her doe eyes from her white like grey slate hue eyes as her demure state fell upon seeing the great himself, Ragnar. "You were just a little kid, Skuld Draugr", the great Viking king spoke towards her as she stood there with her taciturn nature like always to amaze the Viking Ragnar.

☽☾☽☾

"What has become of who was once the youthful, strong who now become the old and lost Ragnar Lothbrok", as the words fell from her pink perched lips with a voice that was seraphic with a rasp that soothes a person's ears she looked at the old man who she once had an encounter with long ago in her youthful as a child.

☽☾☽☾

"I believed at a time when I first encountered a child in the woods with a basket filled with herbs who still had that taciturn and demure fearless nature told me once that as I grew my legacy there will be a time when my journey comes to an end is when i lack the one wish i desired", Ragnar spoke with his bearded lips while coming close towards skuld as she stood still watching him, listening to the words she once told him when she was a child. "Your death is nearing Ragnar Lothbrok, where you will be greeted by the Valkyries who will take you home as they summon you", She spoke yet again knowing it was time for his offspring to continue a family legacy...

☽☾☽☾

As a flock of ravens flies around squalling as Skuld looks at the ravens her eyes set upon a man with runes embedded in his skin with one eye out of the socket wearing a black linen cloak with raven feathers covered around it appears in her sight speaking "The embodiment of the goddess of fate, and the skilled strength of a Valkyrie with the dark petrified aura of a Draugr... its time to prepare the journey of a great embark of your own for the offspring of Ragnar Lothbrok will need your presence and strength, Skuld Draugr", hearing his voice who was deep-toned and groggy she knew it was time for the one who spoke to her was none other than Odin himself who appeared in her vision, as kept looking coming back to reality seeing where Odin was standing was not there no more and the ravens was no more to be seen, as that was the sign that it was time for her journey to begin...

☽☾☽☾

Skuld Draugr was none like no shieldmaiden or no Viking but yet had the skill of a Valkyrie warrior, her mother was gifted by the gods to give such a daughter with the beauty of skin that color was different from the rest as her white-like grey slate eyes, as Skuld was set out to be Odin's Valkyrie, that in death she will be welcomed upon her fellow Valkyries. But as she grows, she encounters the great king Ragnar who she sees in her visions as a seer seeing what future lies in his paths and that it is she who will give her presence upon his offspring when they grow up into young adults, given shes slight younger than Bjorn but older than Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar...

☽☾☽☾

"You are not like any woman I have encountered with such skills like yours" " The Eldest Son of Ragnar and Queen Aslaug spoke with such compassion in his voice that made Skuld grow a smile with her heart beating not knowing what's become over her. Until the visions leave the woman with her eyes slowly opening having a feeling that this journey is going to be difficult...

A/N: Sorry if the prologue was small…

[at1nys-blog]

Masterlist

【Ragnar Lothbrok】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Lagertha】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Björn Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Floki&Helga】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Athlestan】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Rollo】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Siggy】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Aslaugh】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Ubbe Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Hvitserk Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ My own Valkyrja

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ more to come

【Sigurd Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Ivar Ragnarsson】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Halfdan the black】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Harald Finehair】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Torvi】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Heahmund】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Gunnhild】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Kalf】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Kjetill Flatnose】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

【Yidu】

↳˳;; ❝ ᵕ̈೫˚∗ nothing yet

[woahhhgwendolyn]

[beamergirll11]

Sigurd Confronts Ivar After You Chose Him Over Him

“She chose you over me? After everything we’ve shared, this is how she repays my love? I can’t believe she’d turn her back on me for you. You are ruthless and deceitful, and you will never love her the way I do. She has thrown away something real for a mirage. One day, she’ll see your true nature, and by then, it will be too late. I hope she can live with her choice, because I never will.”

“Sigurd, you ignorant fool! She chose me because she sees in me everything you could never be—strength, power, dominance. She craves a leader, not a lovesick dreamer like you. She belongs to me now, and she knows it. You had your chance, but you failed to satisfy her desires. She wants a man who can conquer worlds, who can shape history. I am that man, not you. So don’t you dare question her decision or try to come between us. She is mine, and I will not allow anyone to take her away from me. If you ever cross me again, I will crush you without hesitation. Stay away from her, Sigurd, or face the consequences.”

[midnightstar16]

Whispers of Love: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Reader is new in Kattegat and catches the attention of a certain Ragnarsson.

Warnings: Assault, murder, slight swearing(i think)

You came to Kattegat just a couple days ago but it didn’t take much time at all for you to notice the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. You only saw them from a safe distance as they talked to one another. You noticed one of the boys was crippled but not before you saw his face. You were in awe, to say the least. But your eyes must have lingered on him for quite some time for he met your gaze with an intense stare that sent chills down your spine. You never had more reason to leave and go back to the hut you were staying in.

You became an orphan at the mere age of 12 and had taken care of the farm for many years with your older brother. But the two of you had recently decided that you wanted a far more exciting future than just farming on the land so you sold the land and took the money to buy a hut and look after yourself just until you had settled in. You forgot about Ivar soon enough once you reached you new home and moved on with your new life.

A month passed by and living in Kattegat was so much more different than the farm. It was much louder, faster and there were more people than you could count. But it was not to your dislike, it was the contrary actually. You had started your training to be a physician and you were doing nicely. Everything was working out better than you or your brother could’ve imagined.

Ivar had not stopped thinking about you ever since that little eye contact in the market and it may have been a bit delusional of him to still believe that he would see you again. You were probably not even in Kattegat anymore because he could not find you anywhere. You were the first girl to look at him with such admiration and he drowned in your beauty the second he laid eyes on you.

During dinner he seemed to have zoned out because Sigurd had to throw some food at him to get his attention. Ivar was immediately annoyed and glared at him. Trying to stop himself from flinging his axe at his brother, he asked, “Why are you throwing food around like a child?”

“You wouldn’t listen. Had to do something to bring you back to Midgard,” he replied.

Ivar rolled his eyes, already feeling great anger towards his brother but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted, “We are celebrating Yol tomorrow.”

Ivar drowned in his thoughts once more. He would know if you were in Kattegat by tomorrow night. If you were in the town, then you would be at the feast and he would approach you. He wanted to know all there was to know about you; all the important and unimportant things of your life.

You and Kalf, your brother began cleaning up the plates and horns after dinner. You broke the silence, “It is Yol tomorrow. There will be a great feast.”

“Yes, I have not been in the Great Hall since the Thing, where I got my arm ring. Just thinking about the food that will be there makes me hungry all over again,” Kalf spoke excitedly.

“We have just had dinner, you fool. How are you always this hungry?” You spoke laughingly.

“Your cooking will make any man excited to eat something else,” he commented.

Gasping, you threw the nearest thing you could find at him at which he simply laughed. You spoke sarcastically, “I won’t make food for you if you really hate it that much.”

“Well, I mean it’s not THAT bad if I think about it,” he retaliated.

Smiling smugly, you spoke, “Better.”

The feast was spectacular. You sat on a different table from your brother though because you knew he would embarrass you the first chance he got. The food and the ale was so good you could feast all night. There was music as well and many were dancing to it but you weren’t drunk enough yet to give yourself away to the music. You simply talked and laughed with your newly made friends.

Looking around the hall, you suddenly noticed certain eyes on you and then the memory came back. Those blue piercing eyes and that face, he was perfect in every way. You maintained the eye contact for long, getting lost in his eyes until one of your friends whispered, “That’s Ivar. The crippled one.”

You looked at her. You had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok’s crippled son. The girl continued, “They say he is a menace, quicker to anger than most men, so don’t let his legs fool you and not only that, but I’ve heard that he is stronger and better at fighting than any of his brothers. Apparently he strangled a boar with his bare hands but that is probably not true.”

“Of course it is not true,” you scoffed. After waiting a second, you suggested, “Come, let us dance. The music is lovely.”

The both of you giggled and rushed to give yourself away to the music. You soon felt the beat through your veins and the rhythm matching with your heartbeat. You danced uncontrollably, partly because you wanted to see how the crippled prince would react, if at all. His eyes had barely faltered from you and it was making you uncomfortable but you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want him to know that he made you feel weak by simply looking at you but every now and then you would give him a glance.

You suddenly felt a hand around your waist. You didn’t know who the man was for you had never seen him. His hold on you was not budging when you struggled. His other hand was roaming at places on your body that made you terrified and the hall was crowded enough for no one to truly notice your struggle.

“Let go of me!” you said, struggling.

“Oh what’s a bit of harmless fun? Especially with a woman of your beauty,” the man spoke.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to ‘dance’ and play around with your body until something that you hadn’t expected in a million years to happen. A knife suddenly struck his head as his eyes remained widened with shock. You quickly stepped away as his body fell to the ground. The tears ran down your face and you looked around trying to figure out who it was until you saw everyone looking at Ivar who was glaring at the man’s limp body. It was different to how he had looked at you in every singly way but you didn’t stay around to find out more. Feeling absolutely overwhelmed, you stormed out of the hall with Kalf following.

“What happened back there?” Kalf spoke worriedly.

“I-…” you hesitated. Before you could speak, your brother interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me. It is fine… Come on, let us go to our hut.”

Ivar had had his eyes on you all evening, his brothers even teasing him about it but he quickly turned them away angrily. But when he saw that asshole trying to touch you without consent, Ivar felt an uncontrollable anger. He wanted to skin the bastard alive but he couldn’t simply watch you struggle like that. Even after killing the man, Ivar felt no guilt. Why should he? He was simply protecting you, making sure you were safe.

No one had asked him about why he had done what he did. Perhaps it was already too obvious. Perhaps he had scared you off. You wouldn’t even want to go near him now. He felt his insecure thoughts weighing him down during the night.

You barely slept through the night, the picture of the knife piercing the man’s skull replaying in your mind and then seeing the look Ivar had on his face. That menacing look, the one that could take down entire armies.

The next day, you went away from the town to feel the quiet of nature that you had already begun to miss. You walked around the forest, finding a riverbank to sit nearby quickly enough. You thought about what had happened last night, how, in some really fucked up way, Ivar saved you. But he also killed a man who will never experience Valhalla now. Then again, that monster didn’t deserve Valhalla. You sat there wondering what would’ve happened if Ivar had not intervened.

“Mind if I join you?” you heard a voice from behind. When you turned your head and saw that it was Ivar, you quickly stood up.

“Were you following me?” you realised in this moment, you were terrified of him.

“Will it help if I said no? Either way, you walk too fast so I had to find you myself,” he spoke. When you didn’t say anything, it didn’t take him long enough to realise how you felt, “You are scared of me.”

Scoffing, you reasoned, “Who wouldn’t be? You killed a man while I was simply inches away.”

“He was hurting you,” Ivar remarked as if that was reason enough.

“But you could’ve killed me,” you argued.

Ivar grinned, “I didn’t though, did I?”

“Well… No but still, it was terrifying,” you said while Ivar made himself comfortable by sitting against the trunk of a fallen tree.

Even though Ivar worked very hard to not show it, he had been very nervous to actually talk to you. Now that you were here, he didn’t want to ever leave.

You stood there silently before sitting down in front of him. What was it about him that you felt so drawn towards?

He looked at you lovingly, “What is your name?”

“Y/N is what they call me… But I already know who you are, Ivar,” you acknowledged.

“Do you?” Ivar joked.

“That anger in those gorgeous eyes of yours, how could you be mistaken?” you replied.

“My eyes are ‘gorgeous’?” he couldn’t control his smile.

You blushed, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t mind the compliment though, please, y/n, carry on about my gorgeous eyes,” he teased. Truth was, he felt a thousand butterflies. He’d never gotten a compliment from anyone.

The two of you continued making jokes at one another, laughing constantly and time flew by ever so quickly. Ivar couldn’t believe the sun was about to set. With you, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He felt at peace.

When his brothers asked where he had been, he simply smiled and shrugged. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel furious. There was something about you, like you were a goddess who appeared to save him. The next day Ivar went up to the same place, hoping you would show up. He was almost about to leave until he saw you show up.

You finished your work as a physician for the day as quickly as you could and relied on your friends to cover up for you. Once out of Kattegat, you practically ran to the same spot on the riverbank as yesterday. You didn’t know how but you just knew that he would be there, nor did you know why you felt so eager to go to him either.

You continued these secret meetings for as long as you could. No one was aware of who or where you actually went but you didn’t care even if they found out. Ivar had become your sanctuary as you had become his.  

During one such evening, as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank, you found yourselves lost in a conversation filled with laughter. Ivar had a knack for weaving humor into every exchange, and you found yourself charmed by his wit and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Ivar grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth. "See? I told you I was the funniest person you'd ever meet."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth filling his eyes. "I'm glad you find me amusing, y/n."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. "You have a way with words, Ivar."

He chuckled softly. "Only when I'm with you."

The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and before you could think, you found yourself leaning in closer to him.

Ivar's hand gently brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "You're beautiful when you laugh, y/n."

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Ivar reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. His touch was tender, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

As your lips clashed with an overdue feeling of affection for one another, Ivar kissed you passionately and possessively almost as if declaring that you were his.

You pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you found yourself lost in Ivar's eyes once more, a sense of belonging settling deep within your soul.

“I am yours, y/n, now and forever and you are mine,” Ivar’s words echoed in your heart as you buried your eyes in his, expressing a thousand unspoken words.

[starogeorgina]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Paring: Hvitserk × reader

Warnings: None

1.01

“Whatever happens, my brothers will watch over you in my absence.”

Unintentionally, you pouted; you hated the idea of being apart from Hvitserk, but you understood why he was leaving with Bjon. “I can take care of myself.”

A mischievous smile appears on his face. “I know."

“I’ll miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Hvitserk brushes hair behind your ear before cupping your face. Sighing, he says, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t get into any trouble.” Laughter passes your lips before you realize how serious he is. Hvitserk frowns. “I mean it. My brother’s always found a way of dragging you into problems that aren’t yours. I want to know my wife will be in one piece when I return to Kattegat.”

Your caring husband was being paranoid. You often found yourself between Ivar, Sigurd, and Ubbe’s spats, and almost always you took Ivar’s side. However, when it came to the sons of Ragnar fighting with others, you tended to stay out of it unless you felt it was absolutely necessary to get involved, or Hvitserk said otherwise.

“I will try my best, but I cannot make such a promise.”

Knowing this was possibly the last time you’d see each other for some time, Hvitserk kisses you passionately. You would truly miss him.

“Just behave while I’m gone.”

—

You sit on the dock beside Ivar, watching boats come in. Vikings from all over were coming to Kattegat to join the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok in seeking revenge for their father's death.

“Do you think Lagertha will join us?”

Ivar scoffs, “She told Ubbe she has many reasons to stay.”

You click your tongue and say, “Hmm, I suppose Kattegat is more important to her than a dead man.”

Ivar glares at you.

“What? I speak nothing but the truth. Lagertha had already lost Ragner, so she wouldn’t risk losing her throne so easily. You’ll need to find another way to convince her to leave Kattegat.”

The corners of Ivar’s lips pull slightly. “I say we kill her now. She will always be a threat to us, and at least then she will be out of the way.”

You pondered his words while twirling the knife in your hand. You understood his desire to kill the woman who stole his mother from him, but it wasn’t that simple. “If you kill her now, then a lot of the shield maidens in Kattegat will no longer join you in seeking revenge, nor will Bjorn. I say you get justice for Queen Aslaug’s death when we return.”

“So what? We just let Lagertha sit upon my mother's throne, free to do whatever she likes. She will stab us in the back as soon as she gets the chance.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

Ivar’s scowl turns into a smile. “I imagine whatever you’re thinking will not please my dear brother, Hvitserk.”

You raise your brow and nod. “It's a risky idea, but it might help us get an insight into what Lagertha is planning.”

As a child, you were brought to Kattegat to be a slave, but Hvitserk took a liking to you, and Queen Aslaug released you as a slave with the intent of marrying you to her son, which is exactly what you did. And ever since, you have remained loyal to Hvitserk and his family.

“I want Lagertha to think I’m on her side.” You drop your gaze to your feet, hoping that Ivar understands the reasoning behind your plan. “You, Hvistserk, Ubbe, and Sigurd will always be a threat to her, and so will any children fathered by any of you.”

“The legacy of Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“While my husband is gone, I’m vulnerable.”

Ivar scrunches his nose up and scoffs, “Don’t talk nonsense. You're one of the least vulnerable women I know; I’ve seen you fight before.”

“That’s not what I mean. Think about it. Lagather has already tried to befriend me multiple times.”

“She wants to manipulate you because she knows how much my brother values your opinion.”

“Exactly." You nod in agreement. “Hvistserk is gone, and if I were to fall out with you and Ubbe, then my loyalty may sway. If Lagertha were to trust me, I would be able to learn what her intentions are.”

Ivar claps his hands together and says, “You are far more devious than anyone who gives you credit. You have one problem, though; she wouldn’t believe you’ve turned your back on us so easily.”

“Not unless you give me a reason to.”

—

As planned, warriors who followed the sons of Ragnar did as Ivar asked and took everyone in the great hall hostage during a feast to welcome them. A sharp blade is pressed against your neck, preventing you from stepping any further.

You let out a loud gasp, “Let go of me.”

Ubbe stares at you wide-eyed; he’s surprised to see you on the opposite side of this. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it when Ivar gives him a cold glare.

They both turn their attention back to Lagertha, who has stepped down from the throne. Ubbe begins to circle her while raising his axe, and Ivar growls up at her with a blade in each hand. But before either of them can attack her, the doors to the hall swing open, and Bjorn enters. “If you kill her, my brothers, you’ll have to kill me too.”

Ivar looks up at him and says, “Maybe we should.”

“Shut up!” Ubbe hisses. “She killed our mother.”

In a calm tone, Bjorn says, “I know. You want revenge, and so would I. But more importantly, we have to avenge our father. That is why I came back. And that is what we are going to do.”

Lagertha tosses her sword to the ground. Furious, Ubbe and Ivar leave the hall. You twiddle with the threads of your dress, staring ahead, teary-eyed. Under your breath, you mutter, “Brothers.”

When Lagertha catches your eye and gives you a sympathetic look, you quickly turn and run outside, doing your best to hide the smirk pulling on the corner of your lips.

[untitledesquire]

Feanor and Ragnar

I think there’s an interesting parallel to be drawn between Feanor and Ragnar Lothbrook.

Feanor is the greatest elven smith, responsible for the creation of an entire elven writing system, and a charismatic leader and Iconoclast who inspired his people to great and historic actions.

Feanor swears vengeance against Morgoth and leads his sons and their army in an invasion/resettlement of Middle earth. Feanor is struck down by the forces of his greatest foe (Morgoth) and his will and oath are carried on by his sons.

Ragnar Lothbrok is the Mythohistorical Viking king who is credited with countless legendary deeds (including slaying a dragon, marrying the Daughter of Sigurd and Brunhilde, and invading England with two ships) who is generally considered to be a combination of a number of kings through the Viking age. He is Killed by his sworn foe King Aelle, and his will is carried on by his sons, who lead the Great Heathen Army in an invasion of England.

The two of these accomplish legendary tasks and are held up as the greatest of their respective peoples.

It’s interesting to think that most people of middle earth probably wouldn’t believe that Feanor was a real person rather than a myth or legend. I can also just really imagine Feanor saying “How the little piggies will grunt when they hear how the old boar suffered.”

I know that Tolkien hated allegory, but given the way in which he envisioned LOTR as a kind of creation myth for the Anglo-saxons, it’s interesting to see this parallel to the invasion of England by a larger than life figure.

[hiatuswhore]

A Weapon III

previous — Viking Masterlist — next

Watching the servants bringing your things into your large chamber it felt odd.  Arne was given his own separate chambers and you were assigned several more servants.  You had not given him an answer and yet it felt as though you had.

“What troubles you so?” Mika asked standing at your side you had not noticed her there causing you to flinch at her touch it was so sudden and unexpected.  Your mind and body were no longer one as you were afflicted with many questions, no answers, and heavy choices.

“There are many decisions to be made. I’d rather not mess up,” You said voicing your worry openly.  The sound of her chuckle made you look at her with furrowed brows.  It was refreshing seeing her in this light.  She only used formalities in front of other people of the Borian court. It took a long time before she became this comfortable in your presence.  

“You are the smartest person I have ever come across.  Whatever King Harold has burdened you with, I am sure you can handle it,” Mika reassured, smiling softly as servants carried in several gowns. Looking at them with furrowed brows you were at a loss of words as you watched them be carried into your closet.  They were embroidered beautifully and the fabric looked to be of silk and they surely were not yours.

“Wait, those are not mine,” You said, halting the servants’ movement they looked down as they addressed you.  These servants were new and still had yet to learn of your casual customs.  Unsure of what was happening as the servants would not meet your gaze you were growing tired of the unpredictable nature of Borian Court.

“Gifts of course.  They’re now yours,” Your chamber doors opening two women entered not much older than you.   Both of them look exactly like the other, looking at them both the crowns on their head answered your questions quickly.

“Princess Madeleine, Princess Anne,” You greeted curtsying you were unsure which was which only knowing of their names.  Looking between the two, one of them was grinning as the other offered a kind smile.

“Dear could you make it any less obvious you’re confused.  Fret not I am Princess Madeleine.  You can tell us apart from my darker hair versus Anne’s light hair like our brothers,” Madeleine explained, nodding your head you were surprised they were here.  The princesses were quite allusive in the castle.  

“You were made aware that I have not given King Harold an answer right?” You asked and Madeleine laughed taking a seat onto your bed.   She made herself quite comfortable as she ordered the servants to proceed with putting the dresses away with your things.

“Yes but your decision is obvious it would be unwise to refuse.  You will be Queen before the elder daughters of the crown.  This offer will never rise again,”  Anne explained and you watched as her smile wavered.  An obstinate glint shone in her eyes as she stared at you.  Looking at her you were crumbling beneath her gaze as her posture was perfect and her head was high.  It was clear she believed you to be beneath her and with her intimidating presence, you felt beneath her.   In the corner of your eye, you noticed the reactions of all the servants old and new to the news.   It had been days since Harold had asked and not only were you avoiding him but you told no one of what he had asked.  In this time your wardrobe was changing, fewer guards watching you, and more freedom for you and Arne to explore the castle.

“It’s a lot to process. I am no Queen just a girl,” You said, realizing all eyes were on you waiting for a response to Princess Anne.  Princess Madeleine rolled her eyes at her sister as she looked at you.  The two sisters had heard about you.  As Anne thought nothing of you, Madeleine was watching you in secret quite closely.

“Worry not Lady (Y/n) under all that hard King facade my brother Harold is a kind man and will make an even kinder husband,” Princess Madeleine said, trying to soothe your nerves it was not helping.  The way they were all speaking was as if you had already agreed to become Harold’s wife—the next Queen of Boric.

“I presume you did not grant me audience to merely speak on my hypothetical marriage to your brother,” Taking a breath bringing your chin up you would not let their status worry you.  Looking at Princess Anne in the eyes to all that was watching it was clear you were challenging her.   Mika continued putting your things away but smiled as she watched you refuse to falter to the intense princess.

“Our brother worries of push back from Noblemen.  They can be quite vexing.  Madeleine is going to teach you Borian customs in the castle while I’ll be giving you lessons in etiquette,” Anne explained, walking toward you she circled you as if you were on display, “For starters straighten out your back further.  When your hands are not being used clasp them in front of you like this.”

Following her critiques, she placed her hands on your shoulders before turning you toward your mirror on the wall.  Lifting your chin to be level with the rest of your body you were unsure what was happening, “You will indeed be Boric’s next Queen.  You may not want to find this fate but it has found you.”

Not saying a word Anne excused herself but you continued to stare at yourself in the mirror.  You were not like any of the people of Boric and yet you were in line to be leading them.  As Madeleine joined you looking in the mirror she offered a small smile.

“The look in your eyes is familiar.  When father announced Harold would succeed him it was unexpected.  Anne was supposed to succeed him.  Harold was terrified but Anne advised him through it and she’ll do the same for you,” Madeleine tried to reassure but still staring at your own reflection nothing was helping the issues troubling you.

“I don’t think Princess Anne is very fond of me,” You retorted now looking at Madeleine over your shoulder the two of you were closer than you had expected.  

“You’re going to be wearing the crown our father stole from her.  Anne may come off cold but she only wants what’s best for Boric. Right now you are what is best for Boric,” Madeleine explained looking back at the mirror you were unsure of what to do with all you had been given, “Your attendance is expected at evening supper.  This is likely the most simple of all the customs.  We all sit, the priest blesses the food and we eat. When you hear the bell then you must start getting ready.  I am uncertain how it will proceed with the Pagan people here but Anne has informed the servants of what you will be wearing.”

“Why can I not choose?” You asked and Madeleine smiled as you reminded her of herself in the castle as a child.  She questioned everything from the customs to the loose ties to the catholic church.

“You believe that you are deciding whether to be my brother’s bride.  It was clear the moment you did not immediately refuse that you would be the next queen.  My brother is trying to be kind and let you come to that decision on your own but you made it the moment you did not say no,” Madeleine explained walking out of your chambers without another word she left you stunned.  Glancing out of your chambers you could see two guards,  wanting to be alone you were well aware if you walked out they would follow.

“Ladies if anyone asks I have fallen ill and I am resting.  Mika you are going to wear one of my nightgowns and hide beneath my blankets,”  Some of the servants looked nervous at the request but Mika merely shook her head with a small smile.  Changing into your nightgown as you wore her discolored tattered clothes you covered the top of your head with a dark cloak.  Climbing into your bed in a sense you were granting her a chance to rest comfortably.   Mika offered you a kind smile before disappearing beneath the blankets.

Stepping out of your chambers you were nervous at first.  The guards only glanced at you for a second before staring off again.  You were invisible again and for the first time, you realized how much you truly missed that feeling.  Getting through the castle as you made it to the garden the sun was beaming down on you to the point the top of your head was sweating.  Walking further into the garden you looked around before removing the cloak.  Taking a seat within the flowers you felt at ease for the first time in a very long time.   Being no one was so easy and less troublesome.  The peace soon came to an end as a shadow blocked the sun from reaching you.

“For someone who’s the property of the King you are treated quite nicely,” Looking over your shoulder stood Ivar who was balancing his crutches on the grass.  Narrowing your eyes at him you only rolled your eyes before turning back to the view of the open field.

“I am no one’s property. I will not be belittled by a cripple,” You spat no longer facing Ivar you could only imagine the disdain on his face.  Refusing to look back there was no noise or sign of movement for a few seconds before he joined you on the ground.  At your side, you could see him in the corner of your eyes.  

“Ivar the boneless,” Is all he said breaking the silence between the two of you.  He wasn’t looking at you either as he took in the view.  The sky was bright blue and in the distance there were dark clouds.  Staring at them they looked far off but you could tell they would be here soon.  

“You’re quite vexing Ivar the Boneless,” You said looking over at him he met your gaze and the two of you said nothing.  The silence between you both holding as you both waited for the other to fold and say something, “You don’t scare me.”

“Maybe I should,” Ivar said looking away from you back at the view.  The bell-ringing from the castle took your attention away from the enigmatic Viking.  Placing the cloak back over your head you said nothing as you left Ivar to his devices.  Hurrying through the castle as you returned to your chambers Mika and the others were already in a frenzy.  Rushing you into a beautiful red gown there was a box sitting on your dresser.  

“Compliments of the King,” Mika said, opening the box revealing a beautiful necklace the gems were a dark ruby color.  Staring at them the deep red resembled blood, eyes welling up you could almost taste the metallic on your tongue, “What’s the matter?”

“I uh—nothing,” You stammered turning back toward the mirror and as Mika placed the gift onto your neck you flinched as its cold surface touched your skin.  Your heart hammering, everything felt wrong, “I am a murderer and so are the people of this castle and yet we get everything while innocent people get nothing.”

Despite how you whispered they had all heard you and they could see you were distressed.  Staring at your reflection you could not recognize the person you were seeing.  No matter your moment of clarity it was time to be immersed in the life of Borian Court.  Heading toward the main hall as you arrived at the door guards stood stagnant as well as a few unarmed men anxiously pacing.

“Lady (Y/n),” The man bowed unsure of how to respond. You stumbled into a failed attempt of a curtsy, “I am only the King’s pager no greeting needed.  By the King’s orders, I have been tasked to announce your arrival.”

“Is that necessary?” You asked sheepishly as your face grew warm from your clumsiness.   The man said nothing before nodding to the guards.  Two men opened the doors and the pager stepped into the vast hall first.   Walking a few paces behind him you were enamored by the new room.  In all, it’s glory you did not fail to realize you were seemingly late.

“Presenting Lady (Y/n) of Boric,”  The man said, stepping out of your way, putting you on full display to the Vikings and Noblemen.  Taking a breath clasping your hands in front of you as Anne had instructed you scanned the sea of faces.  In them held a pair of bright blue irises in which you locked eyes with.  You knew the possible engagement with Harold were the least of your problems.

TAG LIST

@fantasydevil2002 @youbloodymadgenius​ @crackhead1-800 @buckysjuicyplums

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

MASTERLIST

Selethryth, a young lady with strange eyes and prophetic dreams, is both feared and revered in King Ecbert's court. Though he sees her as a powerful tool for his ambitions, it is Ivar, the brutal and unpredictable son of Ragnar, who is drawn to her. As their fates collide, Selethryth finds herself entangled in a dangerous game where her gifts may lead her into the arms of darkness.

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 2

Selethryth felt utterly exhausted, as if her body had been forged from lead. Ever since the night she dreamt of the raven, sleep had become her enemy. Every time she closed her eyes, the nightmare returned—always the same. The vision of the bird, flying alone in the darkened sky, tired and abandoned. Then the serpent, coiling around the raven and swallowing it whole, its death slow and inevitable. And after, the earth trembling beneath her, decaying and foul, while a dark figure appeared in the shadows, familiar blue eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. The sea—the sea that devoured men and castles alike. And always, always, she was powerless, a silent witness the doom around her.

Each dream left her heart heavy, suffocated, as if a dark force had wrapped around her chest and was ready to crush her at any moment.

The King had grown restless after hearing about the raven, and since then, he summoned her every morning to ask what she had dreamt the night before. It was the only topic of conversation between them these days.

"Why do you keep pushing her to speak of this curse?" Her mother's voice broke the silence one night, trembling and low, as if she feared being overheard.

"The king has asked," her father replied quietly but tensely. "Who am I to deny him?"

"That man is a sinner. A dangerous, mad man," Lady Oswyth retorted, bitterness heavy in her voice, but also fear.

"Don't speak like that!" Lord Godric's voice was sharp, almost a whisper, but there was an unmistakable fear in it. "If the king hears—"

"If the king hears, it makes no difference," her mother whispered back. "We're already lost." She paused, her tone breaking. "But he doesn't see what I see. He doesn't understand the sign in her eyes... what she is."

"And the king doesn't want us to intervene. There will be no exorcism for her," her father said, trying to end the conversation, though his frustration was clear.

Oswyth sighed, her voice cracking. "You are condemning your daughter's soul for your own ambitions, Godric."

"Her soul has been lost since the day she was born!" Her father's words were harsh, like an old wound reopened. The anger was raw. "We knew it! She nearly killed you when you gave birth to her! And after her, you couldn't give me another child. We've always known, Oswyth!" His voice trembled with bitterness. "I thought we were cursed because of her. But the king... the king sees something else. And we've risen, like my father never could. I won't let anything ruin that."

Selethryth remained silent, hidden behind the ajar wooden door, shrouded in the darkness of her chamber. Her eyes lowered, and her heart ached as the cruel words pierced her. She had always known the truth of her birth—that she was the reason her mother had been unable to bear more children. The moment they had seen her eyes, they had known it was her fault. And now, hearing her father speak of it so openly, the weight of her existence pressed down on her, heavier than ever.

She slid down onto the cold floor, drawing her knees close to her chest, struggling to keep the sobs trapped within her. She could not allow herself to be heard, not even a sigh, as silent tears welled in her eyes. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve this. What had she done wrong? How had she offended the Lord, for Him to bring so much pain and dishonor to her family?

Selethryth had always tried to be a good Christian—going to church, learning everything that a noble lady was supposed to know—but none of it mattered. To them, she would always be a sinner. Always to blame. And there was nothing she could do to change their minds. To everyone, she would forever be a witch.

This pained her heart gravely.

"You're so quiet, child." Judith's voice broke through the silence, making Selethryth look up from her book. The lady was painting with careful hands, recreating a scene from the sacred scriptures. It was something Judith loved to do, though it was considered inappropriate for a lady—an indulgence that, by her position as the King's mistress, she was free to pursue. Women of her standing had the freedom to do things that others could not, like drawing or reading.

"Forgive me for not being good company, my lady," Selethryth apologized, her voice barely above a whisper. But Judith turned to her with softness in her eyes—eyes that no one else ever showed her. She was the only one who ever looked at her like that.

Selethryth still remembered when Judith had first feared her, when she had been labeled a witch—an accusation that had followed her like a shadow. But it didn't take long for Judith to grow fond of her, to see beyond the rumors and the fear. For Selethryth's mother, this was fitting. Judith, after all, was a woman with many flaws, living openly in her sins. To Oswyth, it made sense that she would not have ill thoughts about her daughter.

"Nonsense, Selethryth. You're always good company," Judith said gently, her gaze soft as she observed the young lady, who, after a long pause, found the strength to smile. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked again, her brush never faltering as she continued painting.

Selethryth hesitated. She wanted to confide in Judith; she felt that the woman was the only one who might truly understand her. Judith had been the one to push her to read and study, to learn things she was never supposed to. And whenever someone spoke ill of her, it was Judith who had defended her without hesitation. But Judith was too close to the King for Selethryth to be completely honest with her. She could never speak of what had been said in her family's chamber, nor could she risk the royal family thinking her ungrateful. So, with a quiet breath, she decided to change the subject.

"I was reading about the Vikings," Selethryth said, her gaze dropping to the book in her hands.

"Vikings?" Judith asked with a curious tilt of her head. "What made them so interesting to you?"

"Magnus says he's the son of Ragnar Lothbrok," Selethryth replied, her voice soft.

Magnus, the son of the late Queen Kwenthrith, had been fathered by Ragnar Lothbrok during the war for Mercia. The very fact of his parentage had been the only reason Ecbert had agreed to raise him as his own.

"You've met him, haven't you?" Selethryth asked, her curiosity piqued. She saw Judith's expression shift to one of quiet nostalgia, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"You know I have," Judith replied, her voice tinged with something unreadable, though her smile was warm.

Selethryth, worried she had overstepped, realized the question had likely seemed unnecessary, considering Alfred's father had been one of Ragnar's most trusted companions.

"Was he truly as impressive as the stories say?" Selethryth asked, her voice full of wonder. She had read so much about the Vikings—their fierceness, their legends—and yet it was hard to believe such men existed outside of myth.

Judith nodded slowly, her eyes distant for a moment. "All of it is true," she said, her voice low and reverent. "He was an impressive warrior... with an even more impressive mind."

Then something on the page caught Selethryth's attention. She leaned in closer, her fingers tracing the edge of an illustration—a man, with a raven on his chest. She frowned, the image feeling oddly familiar. She turned the page back, her fingers trembling slightly, and found the same drawing, the same raven.

"Why a raven?" she muttered under her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the image.

Judith, having noticed Selethryth's intense focus, hummed in curiosity and leaned in to see the drawing.

"You're looking at Ragnar," Judith said softly, almost as if speaking of an old friend. "The raven was his sigil."

Selethryth's breath caught in her throat as her gaze moved from Judith back to the drawing.

A raven...

She kept repeating to herself, It's just a drawing. There was no reason to think of it as anything more than what it was. She had dreamt of a bird dying. Nothing more. But she couldn't shake that strange feeling—like the image made sense. As if she were meant to look at it. But why would that be true?

She had never cared about Ragnar Lothbrok, why did she feel such a strong connection to that figure now?

She had never believed Ecbert's words. She had never believed that she had been blessed with prophetic dreams. They were just dreams, read by others, their meaning always coming later. Like with the first dream she had told him.

She had dreamt of a woman with black hair and a crown on her head, but suddenly the crown turned to ashes and the ground beneath her crawled away, as if it wanted to escape from her. But then, the same earth formed a bridge that led to King Ecbert, wearing an even bigger crown than the one he already wore. Both the people around him and those on the other side of the bridge bowed to him.

It held no meaning to her. There was no way she could have ever truly believed that the King would interpret this dream as a sign of his kingdom growing. But he did. And it happened again, and again. Every dream she shared seemed to follow a chance for Ecbert to expand his lands. And now, he ruled over the largest kingdom in England.

She had never wanted to believe that she had prophetic dreams. And she didn't want to believe it now. If she did, then the Devil really was her lover, and she didn't have a soul.

That thought terrified her. Was her destiny to be a dark creature? An empty one, causing pain and despair? Did she really have no soul? What would become of her when death came? Was she condemned to Hell?

But I have done nothing, she kept repeating to herself. She always did what her family expected of her, what the Lord had taught them to learn. She had done nothing to be hated like this.

And yet, that raven... that raven had scared her. The feeling it left behind terrified her even more.

"Why are you looking so pensive?" Eadgifu's voice made her look up from her needlework. Her sister was having her new dress fixed by the hands of Hilda. It was a gown of pale pink that matched perfectly with her sister's skin. On Eadgifu's face there was an excited smile as she observed herself in the mirror. "Are you worried about the feast of tomorrow night?"

Selethryth found herself smiling bitterly. She really wished that her mind could fix on those things, pretty dresses and feasts to meet suitors, but her mind kept coming back to the raven. The sadness that she felt in her dream, and the fear she had felt during the entire day.

"There's no reason to," Selethryth answered, meeting her sister's gaze through the glass, "You, however, must be excited."

Eadgifu's smile grew larger, "Mother said I'm ready to wed." She said with a dreamy expression. Marriage had always been her sister's greatest dream as they grew up.

"I'm sure you'll find an honorable man," Selethryth's words were enough to make Hilda look at her with unspoken fear. But Eadgifu didn't notice, as she giggled again.

"And handsome as well, I hope," she said before turning to Selethryth. "You could meet someone as well," Eadgifu insisted, but Selethryth looked down at her needlework again, with a little shake of her head.

"Only the Lord knows what plans He has for me," she said, folding the needle between her fingers. "For now, I must wait until He speaks through Father's mouth."

Eadgifu regarded her with a sad look, "Father knows that you'll have to wed, it is a woman's duty." Selethryth would have liked to ask her if it was the Witch of Wessex's duty as well. But she decided against it. Smiling at her sister to keep on with her needlework.

She was in the right age to marry, to be looking for a husband at least. But it was never the time. Lord Godric loved his high position at King Ecbert's court, but his presence was required because Selethryth was there. If she was to marry and leave for her husband's lands, what would become of Lord Godric? He would have to return to his own dark castle, and the king's attentions would be long forgotten. That, of course, if she would ever find a man daring enough to not be scared of superstitions. But Selethryth wasn't sure of it.

That night, her sleep had a form again, vivid as if she were awake.

Selethryth found herself standing at the edge of a vast and frozen lake, its surface smooth as glass, reflecting a stormy sky above. The wind howled through the barren trees at the lake's edge, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands, clawing at the air. The whole landscape felt dead, as if the world itself were holding its breath. The cold bit deep into her skin, and she shivered, but there was no warmth, no shelter to be found.

In the distance, two figures appeared, walking toward her across the frozen expanse. One was tall, shrouded in shadow, his form hidden beneath a dark cloak, but a raven flew beside him—its wings cutting through the air with a steady, rhythmic beat. The raven's presence felt both ominous and powerful, like a harbinger of change. The figure walked with a slow, deliberate pace, as if burdened by the weight of years, yet still possessing a quiet strength. He was the older figure, the one who had lived through much, but was now nearing the end of his journey.

The second figure was on the ground, but he radiated intensity. He slithered on the floor fast and urgent, almost as though he were driven by an unseen force. He seemed to move with a fury that contrasted sharply with the calmness of the first figure. His eyes, burning like blue fire, glinted with a sharpness that cut through the dim light. There was something in his gaze that was both haunting and intense, as though he had been touched by something beyond this world. His path was not one of peace, but of revenge.

As the figures drew closer, the sky above began to darken. The raven circling the older figure let out a sharp cry, and in an instant, a bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens, splitting the sky in two. The older figure stumbled, his cloak billowing around him, and fell to the ground. A cloud of shadow seemed to rise from the earth, swirling around him, until he was lost within it. The raven disappeared into the night, and the storm that had raged above seemed to swallow him whole.

But then, the second figure—the one with the burning blue eyes—stood tall, his face drawn in a fierce expression of grief and anger. He lifted his arms to the sky, and a great thunderclap followed, shaking the earth beneath her feet. He called out, his voice full of pain and rage, but also a powerful resolve. The sky above him seemed to tremble, as though the very heavens themselves were answering his cry. The storm intensified, lightning flashing with increasing frequency, each strike illuminating his face, now set in a mask of vengeance.

The power of the storm—the grief in his eyes—struck something deep within her, even if she could not quite understand the reason. She wanted to reach out, but the storm raged too fiercely, and the dream began to fade, pulling her back into the dark void. Her eyes shot open, and she realized she had been crying.

******

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Their Reaction To A Revealing Costume

Ragnar: If the situation arose, he would be happy to see his partner enjoying the Halloween festivities and expressing yourself freely in whatever way made you happy. You both would certainly discuss the specific details of the costume beforehand to ensure that it is appropriate for the occasion and for you as a couple, but ultimately the choice would rest with you. He believes in trust and communication in relationships, so long as you both had an open dialogue about it, he would be fine with whatever you chose to wear.

Athelstan: He would be concerned if his partner wanted to dress in a revealing Halloween costume. It is not a traditional thing for him or his beliefs and he would not be comfortable with you making yourself vulnerable to the eyes of strangers.

Floki: He felt excited to see you express yourself in a costume that shows off your body. He is proud of you and your beauty, and he likes that you chose to share your looks with others. He is not worried about other people looking at you and wanting you, because he knows you are his and you love him. That is all that matters to him.

Lagertha: She would be delighted to see her partner flaunting your beauty on such a special occasion. However, she also wouldn't be comfortable with you wearing a costume that exposed too much, as she believes in respect and loyalty in a relationship, and revealing clothing can often be worn for attention-seeking purposes, which is not acceptable in a committed union.

Aslaug: She would react with a cold and detached attitude if her partner decided to wear a revealing Halloween costume. She would have no problem with you embracing your own body and sexuality, but she is against dressing in a way that deliberately attracts attention from others. She believes in honesty and loyalty in a relationship, and her partner openly displaying your body for others to admire would be disrespectful and inappropriate.

Bjorn: The gods have given unto him many gifts, as a mighty warrior, as a king, and as a husband, but none so glorious as a pair of loving eyes to look upon your form. You may dress yourself as you please, so long as you are loyal and true, to the gods and to him. To prevent you from wearing what you wish, would be to deny you the pleasure you bring all men in their sight of you - the gods themselves included.

Ubbe: If his partner decides to dress in a revealing Halloween costume, it is ultimately up to you. However, it would be understandable if he were to feel a bit uncertain or uncomfortable about the situation. It is important to communicate openly and honestly with each other in relationships, so it would be best to have a conversation with you and express your feelings in a respectful manner.

Hvitserk: It is your body and your choice. You can wear whatever you want to wear as long as you are respectful to him and your family. However, if you decide to wear something that he finds to be inappropriate or he feels is disrespectful, then he will voice his opinion and will have a discussion on how to proceed.

Sigurd: If you were to wear a revealing Halloween costume, he would likely be taken aback by your boldness. He might feel a mix of excitement, surprise, and even a little bit of jealousy at the attention you may receive. Ultimately, he would try to be supportive and appreciate that you are expressing yourself in your own way. He might offer to accompany you or take pictures for you so you can preserve the memories of this special night.

Ivar: He would be angry with his partner if you wore such a revealing costume for Halloween. He would express that your body is for his eyes only and you belong to him and no one else. After a short argument, however, he would realize you were only dressed this way for fun and he would force himself to calm down and enjoy the night with you.

Halfdan: He finds it to be a dishonor to himself when his partner wears a revealing Halloween costume that shows off any part of your body for other men to admire. As the protector and head of the household, it is his duty to keep you modest and ensure that you don't bring shame to your name. But he would later think you look fantastic, that men may be staring and drooling over you, but your his and your going home with him.

Harald: If you chose to wear a revealing Halloween costume, well then I must say that he would be somewhat upset. Of course, this is a free country, so he cannot forbid you to do anything, but he can most definitely ask why you chose that particularly eye-popping outfit. However, I suppose that if you were truly determined to wear that revealing costume, he would just have to shrug and accept it, but he will most definitely be keeping a very close eye on you during Halloween.

[collecting-stories]

Nightmares - Sigurd Ragnarsson

@flokidottir-imagines-br : So, can you please write something really fluffy for Sigurd, late-night conversation with his pregnant girlfriend?

Nightmares | Sigurd Ragnarsson x reader

Sigurd was not his brothers or his father. He was not cut out for the viking life, he had no desire to travel the seas of the world in search of riches or kingdoms or powers. If he could live the way that he truly wanted he thought that he might be done with his brothers. That he would pack his belongings and shed his name, no longer would he allow himself to be Sigurd Ragnarsson or even Sigurd, Snake in Eye. He would be just another traveller on the road, weaving lore for people to listen to and playing music that they could be eased by. He wanted to go places but not for personal glory or the fame of title.  

He could not have that life though. Perhaps he could still live as a farmer somewhere, a coward who hides from the ships and refuses to go near the fjord in fear he could be swept to far away places. But he couldn’t run from his name then. He would be the greatest disappointment that Ragnar Lothbrok had even fathered. Weaker than his brothers. His mind was plagued by thoughts of dying in battle or dying at sea or dying simply from the diease that Hvitserk said existed in those places. Terrible illnesses that the gods thrust upon their people who in turn infected the viking ships until all the men were sick and their families were sick and villages died.  

Nothing could quiet those voices. Nothing could ease his mind. He’d tried some herbal remedy that he’d seen a healer use in the village but he was still riddled with an uneasy stomach and nightmares that kept him awake for hours. He tried walking around the village at night, letting the cold, salty air of the fjord wash over him as he strolled barefoot along the banks. But being so close to the water only made him feel worse and he imagined it infested with sirens and monsters that pulled him down into the black depth, smothering him beneath the surface. He tried sitting in the field and playing his music but his hands forgot the melody and he stopped more times than he started.  

Sigurd had always been troubled by the thought of becoming a viking but the nightmares and the insomnia and the gripping fear that he tried to hide were more prominent now than they had been before. As if they had grown in size within a few short months. And they had. Because so had you. He had not yet proposed marriage as he had not yet decided whether he could provide you with a worthy life but you had fallen pregnant just five months ago. As you started to show so too did Sigurd’s insecurities and doubts about himself and his future. You had grown accustomed to waking in the morning to an empty bed, you companion already outside, shivering in the cold as he sat on the bench near the door, trying to talk himself into boarding a ship. He was no viking.  

On the first night of your sixth month you laid down and pretended to fall asleep, listening for the sound of Sigurd’s even breathing. When you were sure he had nodded off you sat up, quiet so as to not wake him earlier than he would wake himself. It went just as you knew it would, he slept only an hour peacefully and then he began to toss and turn until finally he sat upright. He was so distraught over his dream he didn’t even notice that you were awake, sitting up in bed, as he leaned over, pressing his head to his knees.  

“Sigurd,” Your hand on his back startled him and he shot up, looking over at you with eyes that were almost wild. He was still disoriented from his dream.  

“You’re alive.” He breathed, almost hysteric as he sat on his knees and gathered your face in his hands and kissed you. “And the baby is healthy.”

“So says the seer.” You replied, holding his wrists to pull his hands from your face, “Sigurd, it was only a dream.”

“It was so real. I was on the ship with my brothers and there was a terrible sickness. I thought I was okay, that the gods had spared me but then you fell ill. I cannot go with them, I cannot be gone from you for even a moment’s time. The baby will come soon and I must be here to make sure you are alright.” He spoke frantically and as he did you attempted to guide him toward you. He moved easily, still pliable from sleep. Sigurd laid against you, head rested against your breast and arms around your stomach. The sound of your heart beating eased him somewhat and you petted his hair lovingly.  

“Ubbe has said that you are not expected on the raid.” You reassured him. Raids took months, they were long and tiring and the travel was not for the faint of heart. While you knew Sigurd would’ve been fine and the ship might’ve been home in time you had still appealed to Ubbe to let your love stay with you.  

“I do not ever wish to go.” Sigurd admitted. “I have been sick over it. I cannot give you a life to be proud of under the name Ragnarsson but it is not in my heart to be a viking. If I were to go I would never be happy.”

“Then I see no reason for you to leave.”  

“I cannot be selfish.” Sigurd lifted his head to look up at you, “I cannot trade the happiness of my family for my own. You would be ridiculed, the wife of a man who’s father, the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok, a king, is nothing more than a farmer.”  

“My happiness has nothing to do with the name of your father or your title here in Kattegat. My happiness is yours Sigurd and I would gladly spend my years in the field with you if that would be what you truly want.” You replied.  

“I think of the ships leaving everyday and I’m terrified. The gods did not make me for the voyage, I am not Hvitserk or Ubbe or Bjorn. I cannot withstand the armies that they face and I do not wish to die in battle so that I may be raised in Valhalla...gods forgive me for saying so. I just wish to be here, with you and our children in our home until we are old and sick of each other.” Sigurd laid his head back down and let you brush through his hair, closing his eyes.  

“Then we shall do that. Though,” you kissed his head, “let us not get sick of each other.”

“I do not believe we shall.”

“Sigurd,” you called to him before he could fall completely back to sleep. “You mustn’t let these things haunt you the way they do. You are not so alone that you have to walk the streets by yourself to get rid of your nightmares, not when I am right beside you having worries of my own. We must meet them together.”

“I will come to you first.” He promised, eased out of his own terrors for the night and reassured by the sound of your heart beating steady beneath his cheek.  

-

I’ve never written Sigurd before and I haven’t written Vikings in a spell but here is this! 

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[oddsnendsfanfics]

Sigurd Snake in the Eye/David Lindström (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/RR5Ge44aMS Any and all short stories for Sigurd Snake in the Eye/David Lindström

For those using Wattpad, here are my Sigurd/David fics