#the tale of ragnar's sons

[bravo4iscool]

Hi! Can I request a bjorn ironside x female where she is a mermaid? He saves her from being capture and they fell in love.

helloooo🗣️

of course you can request that hehehe. i hope i did your request justice. i must say, i don’t know much about mermaids, especially in mythology and all that…

tag list - @bumblebeesfromvenus @yazt09

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REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

bjorn wouldn’t say he believed in mythical creatures. sure, he’s heard tales about dwarfs and gnomes and what else there might be; giants and even mermaids but didn’t quite believe all those stories.

if there were supposed to be such creatures why has no one ever seen them? why are all the stories just hushed whispers, a faint song in the wind?

but today would be the day bjorn ironside, oldest son of the famous ragnar lothbrok, would be proven wrong. today would be the day bjorn ironside would start to question his whole world.

he just wanted to relax, stare out at the sea and forget everything for a while when a fisher boat caught his attention. they were quiet far out but bjorn could see that they struggled with their nets. he slowly stood up and walked further towards the water. should he row out and offer his help?

the idea passes when he hears a faint shout of success. the fishermen managed to pull their net onto the boat and were now rowing back towards the harbour of kattegat.

bjorn keeps his eyes trained on the boat, walking towards the docks when it finally arrives after some time. he watches the fishermen leave their boat, a blanket draped over their net.

bjorn frowns and leaves, deciding to wait until nightfall to check the boat. he was the price of kattegat, there was little he wasn’t allowed to do.

once the sun vanished and the city fell asleep bjorn grabbed a cloak and a torch, sneaking out of the house. his feet carry him over to the docks, searching for the fisher boat.

when he finally finds it the blanket is still draped over the net. without much thought he pulls the blanket away, freezing when he sees a woman laying in the boat.

he stumbles back, almost dropping the torch. why would these men catch a woman out on the sea and just leave her in their boat.

he manages to squeeze the torch between two loose dock planks and climbs into the boat. that’s when he sees that—maybe—the woman in that boat wasn’t exactly a woman.

his eyes raked over her body, the swell of her naked breasts, down to her stomach, past her hipbone. his eyes stop at her tail. she had…a tail.

his fingers were itching to touch it, to make sure it was real but he managed to restrain himself. the tail was slightly reflecting the light of the torch, making it slightly twinkle in the night. just the like starts in the sky.

her face was…arguably the most handsome face he’s ever seen. the way it looked to soft and—and like it was made for him. he was captivated by her beauty and grace, even though she wasn’t conscious…

that was when he noticed how dry the woman’s—mermaids—skin was. it looked almost…crusty.

now, bjorn didn’t know much about mermaids but there was one thing he did know; and that was that they would die if they were out of the water for too long.

so, without paying it a second thought he hoists the mermaid up in his arms and stumbles out of the boat rather ungracefully. he can’t help but notice the way she fit so perfectly in his arms…

he couldn’t take the torch without so he carefully walks along the docks until he reaches a secluded part of the harbour. with the mermaid in his arms he slowly walks into the water, submerging her once he was deep enough.

he hoped and prayed to the god that he wasn’t too late to save her.

-

your eyes flutter open and your frown when you don’t feel the familiarity of the water. that’s also when you notice hands on your body.

your body jerks and you try to wriggle out of that someone’s grip. “hey, hey,” you can hear the person talk, trying to calm you down but you couldn’t think straight.

you weren’t supposed to be seen, you were supposed to be a legend, a tale, a mystery.

“your secret is safe with me.” your eyes finally find the person holding you, its a man—a handsome man. he’s staring at you, his eyes fixated on your face.

“could you—“ your voice is raspy as you start to speak. “could you let me go please.” his eyes flicker down to his hands before he pulls them back and clears his throat.

you immediately swim away from him, submerging your body in the water until only your eyes and the top of your head were visible. you eyed him, curious of who he was and he hasn’t killed you already. you knew you should swim away and forget him but someone pulled you towards him, you couldn’t explain.

“i’m bjorn,” he says after a few quiet moments, his eyes never leaving yours. “i saved you.”

you blink at him, slightly tilting your head to the side. so struggling in that fisherman’s net wasn’t a dream. it really happened.

you fully emerge your head and give bjorn a faint smile. “thank you, bjorn.” your voice is sweet as you talk and you can’t help but notice to blush on his face.

he swallows the lump in his throat and coughs. “i, uh, think is better, if you…” he points towards the open sea with his head before he looks at you again. “—if you leave. i don’t want you to get captured…again.”

“i should,” you hum, swimming towards him in a slow pace. “but i want to see you again.” you’ve reached him now, looking up at him.

bjorn looks down at you, understanding the urge to see each other again but he knew it wasn’t safe for you. “it wouldn’t be safe,” he mumbles as his hand slowly reaches out to cup your cheek. 

“what if i don’t care?” you question in a hushed whisper.

“you should.”

“i know.”

a small smile tugs at bjorn’s lips before he pulls his hand back. “you should go. it’s almost sunrise…” he doesn’t want you to leave but he knows you should. it’s better that way; safer.

you slowly swim backwards, ready to leave but then you turn around again and swim towards bjorn, pulling him down into the water and pressing a kiss to his lips.

bjorn takes his face into your hands, deepening the kiss before he breaks always to catch a breath.

you smile while you peel his hands away from your face. “i’ll see you again, bjorn.”

that’s the last thing you say before you submerge into the water, swimming away as if nothing ever happened…

[synindoodles]

— The Tale of Ragnar Lothbrok — An illustrated, handwritten book project I did for university - it tells the story of Ragnar as a legendary viking figure but also of those that were later associated and mixed with the original myth, such as Reginherus, Ragnall Ua Ímairr and Ragnar's famous sons according to legend aka Ivarr The Boneless, Bjorn Ironside, Halfdan "Hvítserk" Ragnarsson and Sigurd Snake-In-The-Eye. I did, however, mix history and myth with History Vikings' depiction of some of these characters, though what is written in each page is based on several articles I found about these people and not in the show's version of them. I'll be posting the rest of these sections separately in the coming weeks so you can also see each drawing in HQ 🤭

[beyralxoxo]

{Crimson War: Valhalla-Ivar The Boneless}

{PROLOGUE}

SUMMARY: It's a prologue babes

WORD COUNT: 1,5K

WARNINGS: Some words of death and brutality

The North was a land forged in fire and blood, a place where legends were born and lived long enough to become myths. It was a brutal land where the earth was as hard as the hearts of its people, and the icy winds carried whispers of gods and warriors. Tales of the beasts of the North spread like wildfire across the Christian world, carried on the lips of priests and the screams of survivors. These stories, heavy with dread, painted a vivid picture of a people born of chaos and steel.

The Danes were said to be bloodthirsty and merciless, their very presence heralding slaughter. But even they paled in comparison to the monsters of Norway—men raised not on the soft comforts of milk and bread but on the cold bite of iron and the warm gush of blood. They learned to kill before they could speak, their lullabies the clash of swords and the wails of the dying.

Heathens, the priests called them—demons cloaked in human flesh, a scourge sent by the devil to torment and destroy God’s children. Their warriors were said to be invincible, their shields painted with runes that bound spirits to their will. Their battle cries froze the blood in the veins of even the bravest knights, and their eyes, sharp and fierce as wolves, seemed to summon death itself.

And yet, even among these devils, one name stood above all others. Ragnar Lothbrok.

A name that rang through the halls of kings and echoed in the nightmares of the faithful. He was no mere man, but a being of legend—a descendant of Odin himself, it was said, though none who had faced him lived long enough to question it. To some, he was a warrior without equal, a king who carved his legacy from the bones of his enemies. To others, he was a god masquerading as a man, sent to remind the world of its mortality.

Ragnar was more than a man. He was a storm given flesh. His exploits—raids that toppled empires, battles that painted the seas red—were immortalized in sagas. His name became synonymous with strength, cunning, and unrelenting will. But Ragnar’s true legacy was not in his deeds alone.

It was in his blood.

He sired a lineage that bore his ferocity and ambition. Bjorn Ironside, the indomitable bear who was said to be unkillable. Ubbe, the steadfast and loyal, who tempered the storm with calm wisdom. Hvitserk, wild as the seas, unyielding and unpredictable. Sigurd, sharp and cunning, with a tongue and blade that cut equally deep.

But this is not their story.

This is the story of another.

The story is the story of youngest of Ragnar Lothbrok’s sons—a man whose name would echo across the ages, whispered in awe and terror alike. Ivar.

Ivar the Boneless.

He was no ordinary man, though the gods had marked him from the moment of his birth. The sagas tell of the day Ragnar looked upon his newborn son and saw the twisted legs that could not support him. Some whispered it was a curse—a punishment from the gods for Ragnar’s arrogance. Others claimed it was a gift, for in taking his legs, the gods had sharpened his mind and filled his heart with a fire that would never dim.

And what a fire it was.

Ivar did not rage against the heavens for what he lacked. Instead, he embraced his fate with the ferocity of a wolf denied its prey. His body might have been weak, but his mind became a weapon, sharper than any blade forged by man. He was cunning, calculating, a master of the battlefield who could outthink and outmaneuver even the most seasoned warriors.

Where others saw only obstacles, Ivar saw opportunity. He turned his weakness into a strength, proving time and again that he did not need the use of his legs to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.

They called him a cripple, but to dismiss him was to sign one’s death warrant.

The Christians spoke of him in hushed voices, calling him a demon born of Norse savagery. His brothers knew him as a force of nature, one who could burn entire kingdoms to the ground with nothing but a plan and a cruel smile. And to those who stood against him, Ivar was something far worse—a monster cloaked in the flesh of a man, whose wrath was as unrelenting as the sea itself.

Yet, for all his ferocity, Ivar was not without depth. Beneath the armor of ruthlessness lay a soul haunted by questions only the gods could answer. Why had they marked him so? Was he chosen for greatness, or was he merely a pawn in their cruel games? He carried these doubts with him, even as he carved his path through history, leaving behind a legacy of blood and fire.

Ivar’s story is not one of redemption or regret. It is a tale of survival, of defiance, and of a man who refused to be broken by the world. He did not beg for mercy, nor did he bow to fate. Instead, he bent fate to his will, turning his pain into power and his name into a legend.

He was Ivar, son of Ragnar. The crippled king. The master of war. And the most dangerous of them all.

And so, the future legend of a king—the cunning, brutal Ivar the Boneless—would one day meet his match. Not on the battlefield, nor in the clash of swords and shields, but in the form of a woman who would unravel him, thread by thread, until the man beneath the monster was laid bare.

Her name was Yggdrasil.

They had known each other once, long ago, as children playing in the shadow of their parents’ ambitions. The memories were hazy, softened by the passage of time, but Ivar still remembered her wild laughter as she dared him to race despite his crippled legs, her fierce gaze when she defended him against taunts, her small hand gripping his as if to tether him to something gentler than his rage.

But life had a way of severing even the strongest bonds. Yggdrasil had been taken away, sent to her father Kjartan the Cruel, while Ivar remained behind to grow into the sharp-edged, unrelenting creature he was destined to become. Years passed, and the boy who once smiled for her faded into the shadow of a man who trusted no one.

Until now.

She stood before him once more, no longer the girl who had softened his edges, but a woman forged from fire and steel. Yggdrasil was beautiful, yes—but it was a dangerous beauty, the kind that could cut a man’s throat and leave him grateful for the privilege. Her eyes, still as piercing as he remembered, held no warmth for him now.

This was his bride.

The gods, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

To Ivar’s satisfaction—and torment—she hated him with every fiber of her being. She didn’t try to hide it. Her glare cut through him like a blade, and her words, sharp as any axe, left no doubt as to her disdain.

Her words stung in a way no enemy’s blade ever could. He was used to fear, to respect born of terror, but not this. Never this. Yggdrasil didn’t fear him. She didn’t revere him. She saw him as he truly was, and it left him raw and exposed.

But damn him, he couldn’t look away.

Where others bent beneath the weight of his gaze, she stood unyielding, her defiance burning as brightly as the firelight that danced in her hair. She was everything he had admired as a boy and everything he despised as a man: fearless, untouchable, and infuriatingly free.

And yet, for all her hatred, she fascinated him.

Their arranged marriage was meant to be a union of power, a merging of bloodlines to secure alliances and strengthen their families’ dominion. But it felt more like a battle—one fought with stolen glances, biting words, and the unbearable tension of being so close to something he couldn’t control.

Ivar hated how much he wanted her.

She became his goddess, the one he worshipped in secret and cursed in silence. His queen, though she wore no crown. His obsession, the thorn in his side that he could neither remove nor ignore.

Yggdrasil, in turn, saw through the mask Ivar wore. Beneath the cunning, the cruelty, and the sharp wit, she glimpsed the boy he had been—the boy she had once cared for. But she would not let herself pity him. Pity was weakness, and weakness had no place in her life.

Still, she couldn’t deny the pull between them, the way her heart betrayed her whenever his blue eyes burned into hers. There were moments—fleeting and fragile—when the tension between them shifted, when the man beneath the monster emerged, raw and vulnerable. In those moments, her hatred wavered, and the lines between enemy and lover blurred.

Together, they were a storm, a clash of power and passion that threatened to consume them both. And as much as they fought it, they couldn’t deny the truth: they were two halves of the same flame, destined to burn brighter—and more destructively—together than apart.

In the end, it would not be Ivar’s enemies who brought him to his knees. It would be Yggdrasil—the one woman who could match his fire with her own and remind him, with every defiant glance and searing touch, that even legends could love.

[biggerbetterbat]

THE SECOND SON | memory of him

Ubbe Ragnarsson x oc!Valdis

summary: Valdis’s childhood had the color of the prettiest shade of blue. And now she was about to see them again.

words: 874

A/N: hello and welcome in my new story! New chapters coming once I decide where I want to go with this story, sorry for delays, I hope you will like it :)

She watched with wide eyes as her father's warriors gathered at the gates, their weapons glinting in the fading light. Then, amidst the throng of armored men, he appeared.

Ragnar Lothbrok strode into the courtyard, his presence commanding and powerful. His piercing blue eyes seemed to pierce through the very soul of anyone who dared meet his gaze. Valdis felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the sight of him.

She had heard tales of Ragnar—the fearless explorer who dared to sail beyond the known seas, the cunning strategist who outwitted his enemies with ease. But none of the stories had prepared her for the reality of his presence. As Ragnar approached her father, Astrid found herself drawn to him, unable to tear her gaze away. She marveled at the way he carried himself, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance yet held an undeniable allure.

But it was his eyes that captured her the most. Blue as the endless expanse of the sea, they seemed to hold a thousand secrets, each more tantalizing than the last. In them, Valdis saw a glimpse of worlds she had never known, adventures she could only dream of. He noticed the curious gaze of a young girl fixed upon him, and he noticed her.

Kneeling down beside her, Ragnar's towering figure became more approachable, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth as he spoke softly to the wide-eyed child. "Hello there, little one," he said, his voice a soothing rumble that seemed to calm the fluttering of her heart. "What is your name?"

"I'm Valdis, my lord."

"Valdis, what a beautiful name," he remarked. "You have the spirit of a true Viking maiden within you, I can see it in your eyes."

For in that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of greatness—a man whose courage and determination would inspire her for years to come.

"Would you like to marry a prince?" he asked, knowing very well that the deal between theirs families was already done. "I have a son. He's around your age as you. Would you like to marry my son?"

"Is he as handsome as you, my Lord?" she asked with big, curious eyes.

Ragnar's hearty laughter echoed through the hall, filling the air with warmth. He regarded the young Valdis with amusement twinkling in his blue eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ah, little one," he replied with a playful grin, "you'll have to judge that for yourself when you meet him.

"So when will I meet him?"

She tugged at the hem of his tunic, her voice filled with curiosity. Ragnar chuckled softly as he looked at little Valdis, her bright eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

"Not yet, little one," he replied with a warm smile. "You'll meet Ubbe when you're both older, once you've grown into the brave and beautiful woman I know you'll become."

Valdis’s face fell at Ragnar's words, her bottom lip trembling with disappointment.

"Look at me," he said softly tilting her head up but her chin. Once again she looked into those beautiful eyes, sparkling with mischief, "You're ready, my dear Valdis, but Ubbe? He is not quite as handsome as he will be when he's grown. But give him time, and he'll catch up."

"Really?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Ragnar nodded with a smile,"In time, Ubbe will grow into a strong and handsome man, just like his father."

Valdis’ face brightened at Ragnar's words, her heart filled with hope and excitement for the future. "Then it's my dream to meet him," she exclaimed eagerly, her enthusiasm renewed.

"Never stop listening to your heart," he said. "Even the greatest journeys begin with a single step, but you must believe in yourself," he said.

The next morning, after evening filled with stories and songs, Ragnar stood on the deck of his ship, preparing to set sail once more. Valdis clung tightly to her father's hand, her heart heavy with the weight of their parting. It was hard to part ways with such a man, his presence was addictive - even for a little girl.

"May the gods watch over you on your journey," said Earl Erlik.

Ragnar clasped Valdis’ father's forearm in a firm handshake, his gaze filled with gratitude and respect. "And may they watch over you and your family as well," he replied solemnly.

Ragnar knelt down before Valdis, his weathered hand resting gently on her shoulder. "Goodbye, Valdis," he said warmly, his voice filled with affection. "Don't forget about my son."

"I'll think about him and pray to gods for him every day."

With a gentle smile, Ragnar pressed a kiss to Valdis’ forehead, his touch a balm to her soul in the midst of their parting. "May the gods watch over you, little one," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "And may our paths cross again one day."

As Valdis stood on the shoreline, her small frame silhouetted against the backdrop of the vast ocean, she watched with a heavy heart as Ragnar's ship slowly disappeared into the horizon. "Please," she murmured, her words carried away by the gentle sea breeze, "let us meet again."

[transitranger327]

Foundations (Ehn’yuste Ch. 5)

Summary: To build a new Jedi order, Jetii Mando’ayust, the Wrens will need two things: a Temple and more members. They make new friends to get the former, and connect with old friends to find the latter.

Notes: A 3.8k word chapter because y’all have been so patient waiting for this (and because I wrote the beginning and the end before the middle). I’m also posting this on my fiancée’s birthday while we’re on our 5-year anniversary trip. She wants me to hurry up and post it so we can go back to cuddling.

As always, a Mando’a glossary is at the end. Read it on Ao3 or below the cut

—

One and a half years after the Ignition

The apartment door slid open. Sabine inhaled the scent of searing meat and sautéing vegetables. Her wife’s cooking skills had blossomed in the past few months, now that she was no longer constantly on the run nor isolated on a sparsely populated world. An array of spices bloomed in the pan, collected from various worlds Shin had visited. Sabine tried teasing them apart, but could only identify catabar and pepper out of the menagerie. The splattering of liquids reducing in the pan was not loud enough to keep their guests—a fair-skinned man and a darker-skinned woman—from chatting with Shin as Sabine made her way across their karyai. She embraced her beloved from behind and offered a cheek kiss, “Hey beautiful, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Shin replied with her own kiss, “can you grab the wine for me?” It was across the room, on the table, but distance was rather trivial when you could use the Force. As her wife offered her the bottle, she introduced the couple. “This is Tyrus Vizsla, current Duke of clan Vizsla, and his wife Mirli.”

“Tyrus and Mirli, huh?” Sabine asked, greeting the Vizslas. “Your parents were interested in the Old Republic Wars?”

Mirli was the first to speak up, “No, actually, we picked the names ourselves.”

The implication was rather obvious to Sabine. “Of course, that’s why I didn’t recognize you. Welcome to the home of Clan Wren.”

“Vor entye for inviting us.” Tyrus did his best to navigate the weird formal-informal meeting that was taking place. He was a Duke meeting with a Countess for the first time, but Sabine was more blasé than nearly any Mandalorian he had met. “Tonight was perfect, Ragnar is staying over with some of his friends from school.”

“Oh, so you’re the ones taking care of him now?” Sabine had heard the tale of Paz Vizsla single-handedly fighting Moff Gideon’s forces, and was glad to meet those that were now taking care of his son. 

“While we may not have agreed with his father, he’s still a Vizsla. We don’t abandon our own.” Mirli seemed to emphasize this more than most Mandalorians, but Sabine was nodding in agreement.

—

After starting dinner and regaling the Vizslas with the Wren’s travels on Peridea, the point of the meeting came to a head with Tyrus asking “so why did you invite us here?”

The big question. Well, not the big question (that was the one Sabine was going to ask the Vizslas), but certainly a big question. So she started laying it out. “Shin and I are planning on starting a new Jedi Order. A Mandalorian Jedi Order. Jetii Mando’ayust” 

The Vizslas were curious. Mirli queried, “That’s certainly interesting, but how does that relate to us?”

“Eventually, this apartment will not be big enough,” Shin continued her wife’s proposition, “We want to establish a…temple, of sorts. A place to train, offer sanctuary, and have a library dedicated to Mandalorian and Jedi knowledge.”

“We want to build it at the only place on Mandalore that’s strong in the Force.” Sabine took a deep breath, “The childhood home of Tarre Vizsla.” Mirli and Tyrus had paused eating. “It’s in a part of Sundari that’s still in ruins. We just…”

Shin saw her wife faltering, and cut in. “We wanted your permission to use it.”

There was a long pause. Tyrus leaned back in his chair while Mirli began twirling her fork between her fingers. 

“That’s a big ask” was his answer. “I don’t hate it tho” was hers.

“Can you elaborate?” Sabine asked.

“Tyrus wants to keep the clan from infighting,” Mirli offered. “There’s trouble brewing between traditionalists and modernizers. Again.”

“I personally think it’s a good idea.” Tyrus’ look was difficult for the Wrens to parse. “You two have proven yourselves true Mando’ade, dedicated to us all. But I’m not sure that’s enough for some.” 

Shin queried, “Is there something that would…ease the minds of everyone else?”

“Maybe,” Mirli mused, “if they knew what you were doing was…shukenla sa val.”

“Like they had a stake in what you were proposing,” Tyrus added.

The two Jedi exchanged glances. “I think I know what you mean,” replied Sabine, “and we can certainly make that happen.”

“Ori’jate,” Tyrus declared, “It’s settled then.”

Mirli agreed. “Now, how about another glass of wine while you tell us more stories from far-off galaxies?”

—

Sabine slipped under the covers next to her wife. “I’m glad dinner went well.”

“I’m surprised you wanted to ask.” Shin dragged Sabine’s arm over her chest to nestle in with her. “You’re normally the ‘forgiveness, not permission’ type.”

Sabine playfully rebuked, “This is a big deal!”

“Just think of all the problems you all could’ve solved by doing this first instead of drawing blasters.”

“What does ‘this’ mean?” Sabine quipped, “cuddling each other?”

Shin softly chuckled. “Hmmmm that definitely would solve some problems—and create a few new ones.” Her wife joined her in the quiet laughter.

—

Before they could drift off to sleep, a loud chime rang out from their apartment computer system. “Shin, honey, didn’t you turn on ‘do not disturb’?”

“Yeah, but I left on notifications for family emergencies, like always.”

Sabine was a little annoyed, but she dragged a datapad out from her nightstand anyway. A smiling icon of Omega Hazard projected onto her eyes. She opened the holo. 

Sabine, sorry to bother you, but one of my best friends is missing. I think he was kidnapped by the Empire. New Republic won’t help. Meet me here soon. 

A set of galactic coordinates were embedded in the message, an old clone trick to keep locations hidden from less savvy spectators. 

“Forgive me, cyar, for not keeping your extended family straight, but Omega is a friend of Hera’s, right?”

Sabine snorted, “More like dated Hera.” She reminisced about the rebellion years when Omega slept in Hera’s room on the Ghost.

“And she wasn’t at the wedding because…”

“She and her wife Lyana were having a baby.”

“Right, right, they stopped by a month ago. Little baby Rex.” Shin tried to stop her wife from crawling out of bed. “Honey, we can call back in the morning.”

But Sabine was already suiting up. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep if I don’t do anything now.” She saw her Shin’s pleading eyes. “Come on, riduur, we can sleep on the Wolf. It’ll be like old times.”

“Fine, but you owe me,” Shin groaned. “Some kisses…and more when we get back.”

Sabine knelt down, and rested her forehead against Shin’s. “Gar serim, my love.” She showered her with a few more kisses before dragging her out of bed.

—

Four Years before the Ignition

“Are you sure you want to leave?”

“The Empire’s gone, Omega, we’re free to go wherever we want.”

Omega and Jax were sitting in the cockpit of Omega’s tried-and-true shuttle, the Oh-Too. 

“I’m surprised you, of all people, want to stay here. You were a pilot for the rebellion, you saved the Galaxy, you should be living it up in the Core.”

“I saved the Galaxy so there would be a here to come back to. To protect my family, including you.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, family is important. But I found out that I still have family out there. I have a cousin running a small shop on Pippip 3, he asked me to come work with him. It’s my first real connection to what I lost.”

Omega finally relented, and began running her pre-flight checklist.

—

One and a half years after the Ignition

In truth, the Mandalorians didn’t sleep particularly well on the Wolf either. The bunks were a bit too small to fit both together, and they had forgotten how much sleeping together calmed their anxieties and fears. 

So they talked thru the mission, planning for how to move forward after meeting Omega. Reaching out to contacts in and adjacent to the Empire, trying to figure out why Omega’s friend was kidnapped in the first place, where to eat with her once they got there. Eventually they tired out, but the sleep they fell into was the restless kind, like unaccustomed sailors in rough waters. 

The ramp lowered, and the two women groggily descended. A third was waiting for them at the landing zone. Her trademark blonde hair was in an undercut, but a teal streak now lined the left edge, contrasting the bright red hair tie which kept the ensemble in place. This all, however, registered to Sabine as a blur of color charging at and hugging her. 

“Thank you for coming so fast!” Her voice was ragged with concern

“Omega, I’m—” Sabine’s grumpiness abated when she sensed the genuine despair in Omega’s voice “—a little tired but we’re here for you.”

“Did you not…oh…did I call you at night?” 

Shin chimed in to rescue, “Don’t worry about us or when you called, you’re on the family emergency list.”

Omega broke her long hug with Sabine, and moved to embrace Shin. “Thank you, thank you,” her voice becoming more stable. 

“Can you tell us more of what happened, and who we’re looking for?” asked Sabine. 

A deep breath. “We’re looking for Jax. He’s one of the kids who was experimented on at Tantiss. He didn’t show up to our holo-gamenight. Sami said that they were messaging the night before, but none of us could reach him that day. So I came here and found his house a mess.”

“Can you show us?” Shin asked. 

“This way.”

As the three women walked the streets of Pippip 3’s 27th-largest town, Shin kept vigilant for signs of past struggles. Sabine, on the other hand, was trying to figure out why the New Republic wasn’t interested in helping. “I’m surprised Hera wouldn’t help you, of all people.”

“I asked both Hera and Rex to help, but apparently when they ran it up their chains of command it got shut down. Apparently there are higher-ups in the New Republic who don’t think we should devote any time to rumors of the Empire.”

“So why would the Empire want to kidnap your friend?” Shin hoped that would tell her more about how the abduction happened.

“Jax and the others in our holo-gamenight all had high m-counts.”

A “Karabast” emerged from Sabine’s lips while several more swears came out of Shin.

“Now you see why I’m so worried.”

Sabine was now fully alert. “We need to get to Jax’s house iviin’yc.”

—

Despite the untarnished exterior, the two Jedi could feel something was wrong with the house. All events left signatures in the Force, but most were too weak to be felt even by experienced Jedi. Conflict and death, on the other hand, left gashes in it.

“Give you the chills, doesn’t it?” asked Omega, as she prepared a datapad. 

Shin and Sabine shot suspicious glances to each other.

“Here, take a look,” Omega held out her datapad, “the lock was sliced into, the door wasn’t broken in.”

Sabine took a look at the slicing program. “Definitely Imperial.”

The door opened, and what they found inside was nothing like the outside. The entire house was trashed. Possessions smashed, drawers rifled thru, furniture in disarray. The Force here reeked of hurt.

And worst of all, a Mirialan man lay dead, crumpled on the floor as if tossed around by a squad of stormtroopers. The two Jedi knelt down next to him, trying to understand his last moments. 

Those were pure, unadulterated fear.

“That’s Jax’s cousin, Rindenn,” Omega informed the others. “He ran a tack & feed shop in this city, and Jax moved here to help him out.”

Sabine got up and inspected all the rooms of the house, trying to find any clues about the kidnappers’ whereabouts. Dropped equipment, blaster shots indicative of academy training, a stray thought in the Force, anything. She pulled out a holo-imager to record everything undisturbed.

But these Imperials were tidy. Not even a spare tibanna magazine or busted comlink could be found. 

When Sabine returned to the main room, she found Omega weeping in Shin’s arms. 

“I told him that we’d always watch each other’s backs.”

Her emotions washed over Sabine as she drew near and hugged both.

“This isn’t your fault,” soothed Shin.

“You did the right thing calling us,” reassured Sabine.

—

24-hour diners were a common sight on planets with lots of interstellar traffic, staying perpetually open regardless of how long a world’s local day. On an agriworld in the Outer Rim, however, they tended to be rare outside of the major ports. 

The three women had managed to find the only one in the city. Not that they needed the odd hours (it was the middle of the afternoon, local time), but because Omega needed dinner and the Jedi were craving breakfast.

While they waited for their food, Shin was mainlining the cheap caf and sending messages to her old contacts in the Empire. None of them knew she had defected (whatever that means for a mercenary) to the Jedi, and she hoped that none suspected it either.

Sabine, on the other hand, was catching up with Omega. “So how’s everyone on Pabu? Well, I hope?”

“Lyana’s busy as always, lots of things to do as mayor.” She smiled, thinking of her wife, “But she loves doing it. And it gives me lots of time with little Rexy.” She pulled up a holo-recording of baby Rex, rolling round and laughing with his moms and uncles.

“He is absolutely adorable. Who did you hand him off to today?”

“Well I gave him to Hunter, but I think Crosshair will put him to bed tonight if Lyana doesn’t.”

This intrigued Sabine. “Does Hunter have something going on?”

“He plays Sabacc on Taungsday evenings.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the waiter arriving with their food: Fried Nerf Steak for Omega, Lessu Omelette for Sabine, Alsakan Toast for Shin. 

As the other two began to dig in, Shin gave them her preliminary results. “It looks like the Empire has been shuttling around their best biotech researchers. Basically never keeping them in one spot for long.”

“So even if we had their location, we couldn’t scout it out beforehand.” Omega always had an eye for tactical issues. 

Sabine frowned. “They would absolutely move their research if they discovered we knew.”

“And we may have tipped our hand,” Shin continued, “My high-clearance contact was very suspicious when I asked. They said it was classified.”

“What do the troopers think?” Omega asked. 

“My low-level contacts all seem to think there’s a research facility in the Galactic West, the Unknown Regions.”

“Karabast. There’s no way…” Sabine trailed off, a new idea taking shape. 

“Oh no,” Shin was between bites of bread, “I know that look.”

“What moonyo-brained idea do you have now?” Omega asked. 

“Huyang said that Jedi used to control hyperdrives with the Force to travel to uncharted systems. When navicomputers got better, they mostly stopped except to get to Ilum.”

“Which is in the Unknown Regions.” Shin thought she knew where Sabine was going. “Except we don’t know if the lab Jax is at is on Ilum.” 

“The old masters used their connection to Ilum to reach it, right? We have someone here who is connected to Jax.”

Omega tried making sense of what she was hearing. “Is that something Jedi can do? Jump to a person just thru the Force?”

Shin tried to keep Omega from getting her hopes up. “Force-assisted jumps are difficult, and they require deep knowledge of where the traveler is going. No one has ever done it looking for just a person before.”

“Just because no one’s done it before doesn’t make it impossible.” Sabine needed Omega’s hopes up. Hope is a powerful tool in the Force. “Riduur, you and I know the technique. Omega, you know the target. I can connect the three of us to fly.”

“This is incredibly reckless.”

“My plans usually are,” Sabine grinned. “But It’s our best bet.”

“Well, I’m always in to save family.”

“Omega, you said you were in a secure research facility. How many people did you need to help you escape.”

“Crosshair and I escaped alone once. But to destroy the base and rescue every prisoner, it took three of my brothers, plus my sister defecting.”

“You think a dozen Mandalorians could do the trick?”

“Definitely.”

Shin was rolling her eyes (affectionately) the whole time the others cooked up this scheme. “Fine, I’ll call up the Duchess and see if she can get a dozen volunteers.”

“Wait. Call the Vizslas first.” Sabine turned to Omega. “Go home. Grab your armor, weapons, and any object that connects you to Jax. Keepsakes, photos, tools, anything.”

—

Tyrus Vizsla was never much of a late-night guy. He preferred the cool breeze of a quiet Concordian morning to the evening events his wife frequented. A solitary stroll thru Sundari was the next best thing.

His quiet, however, was broken by an incoming call from Clan Wren.

“Su cuy'gar, Tyrus. You said that you wanted a stake in this new Jedi order?”

“Why do you ask?

“We have an opportunity for you. And it involves killing some imperials.”

—

Blind jumps are dangerous things, bordering on stupidity. Many a pilot met their end by jumping without calculation in a desperate move to escape. The Force, of course, made things marginally safer. While Sabine only knew the theory behind Force-assisted jumps, Shin had actually made a few: a short round-trip visit to Ilum with her old master (the Imperial installation there immediately sent them packing), and once when she used it to escape pirates who had destroyed her navicomputer. The whole technique was based on reaching out to a place in the Force, something so personal and intimately known that you can feel every inch of it on the back of your hand. 

She’d never done one for a stranger.

They were sitting in the cockpit of Tyrus Vizsla’s Mandalorian dropship—the Buir’tra, he called it. “And you’re sure this is safe?” he asked.

“Hell no,” answered Sabine, “but when have Mandalorians ever stopped doing something because it wasn’t safe?”

He merely shrugged. “Ni vercopaani kaysh brali.”

As Shin began slipping into her contemplative trance, Sabine offered some surprisingly simple instructions. “Okay Omega, I need you to start meditating and focus on Jax.” 

A holo-image of several teenagers sprang up from a comlink. Omega began twirling a lock pick in her right hand, then paused and picked up a carved statuette in her left. Shin felt Omega’s presence on the meditative plane grow.

Then Sabine joined, and their souls were aflame.

Memories, past and future, ripped thru their veins—and they witnessed.

Shin reached out, and threw them into hyperspace.

—

Baarpir bal beskar—sweat and iron. That’s how Mandalore grows. 

When strangers offer theirs to work with you, Mandalore grows. When you spend yours to protect others, Mandalore grows.

They’re also the smell of preparation for the fight. Before the blood and burn and mud and mayhem take over. 

Sixteen warriors had joined the three women. Two members of Clan Rook, Din Djarin, two members of Clan Kryze, and eleven members of Clan Vizsla. Tyrus was flying, while Mirli discussed the raiding plans with Shin, Sabine, and Omega. 

Nineteen suits of armor. Blaster, detonator, saber. One mission. 

Anti-aircraft cannons spat flak at the Buir’tra, to no avail. The Mandalorians would not be stopped so easily. Return fire cleared the perimeter of guards and damaged the defence towers. The assailants would have a clear path to all entrances. 

The doors opened up beneath them, and eighteen souls dropped onto the surface. Detonators disintegrated the base’s doors. Sparks and shot filled the corridors of this secret installation. Computers were sliced into, stripping all their secrets. 

Level 3, room 9 appeared on every helmet’s display.

Half the group stayed on ground level: seven to maintain their exit, Sabine and Djarin to find the base’s leader. Two more stayed in the stairwell to prevent being cut off. Shin, Omega, Mirli, and four more Vizslas descended to the final level, determined to find Jax alive. 

His experimentation room was locked. Shin’s sword made quick work of the door. But what they found inside was horrifying.

Jax was on the brink of death, heartbeat weak on the monitor. Two butchers were standing over him, cruelly keeping him conscious as they extracted his spinal fluid.

These Imperial scientists were promptly shot.

Omega began removing the vertebral needles, closing up the wounds. She demanded sedatives and analgesics from the group, who began scouring the cabinets for any medications. Shin sliced all the straps off the bed, freeing the patient. 

“Omega, you found me.”

“Save your strength. We’re getting you out of here.” 

Omega asked if there was any synthetic blood on the Buir’tra. Orar Vizsla, a medic in training, nodded. Omega injected Jax with the anesthetics that were found, knowing they wouldn’t have much an effect until he got a transfusion.

A message from Sabine: destroy the research, all levels. 

Omega and Orar moved Jax to a hover-stretcher. Mirli and two commandos began planting detonators throughout Level 3. Shin and another commando ascended to assist the stairwell crew in doing the same to Level 2. 

The stretcher crew was escorted to the door. Sabine, Djarin (carrying a computer core), and the chief scientist (in binders) joined. The six made a break for the the Buir’tra, which had made another pass over the base to set down twenty meters from the entrance. None of the straggling stormtroopers dared shoot at their chief scientist.

Safely aboard, Orar began digging out the medical supplies. Omega deduced Jax would need 4 standard units. Transfusion commenced. Heartbeat strengthened. Breathing steadied.

Sabine grew impatient waiting for Shin to make it back. She stunned the chief scientist, and ran back into the compound, saber ablaze.

As she re-entered, she heard Shin call for backup on Level 2. 

No time to run down the stairs, jumping is faster. The door had been sealed, but it was no match for a determined Jedi. A small detachment followed her thru the breach. 

“Hey boys!” 

The stormtroopers were caught off-guard. Their flurry of blaster fire was sent right back at them. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, let’s go.”

Shin’s smile could be felt thru her helmet. “Waiting for you, of course.”

The excitement in the air could be smelled, a mission nearly finished. As this final group made their way out of the research station, more and more of the strike team joined them. The feeling of victory swelled as they reached their exit. 

Jetpacks lit. The Buir’tra began taking off. Drop doors open, Mandalorians coming in the way they went out. 

There were now twenty-one souls on the dropship. 

Not a single loss. 

They watched as the detonators simultaneously triggered, the research base rapidly disassembling before their eyes. Several hoots and hollers emerged from the team.

A pair of exhausted Jedi entered the cockpit, ready to jump back to the known galaxy.

—

Notes: I will neither confirm nor deny Omega’s force-sensitivity Tyrus & Mirli are T4T, Orar is nonbinary Moonyos are the monkey-like animals native to Pabu

Mando’a Glossary: Vor entye: “Thank you” lit. “I accept a debt” Jetii Mando’ayust: “Jedi in the Way of Mandalore” Mando’ade: “children of Mandalore” shukenla sa val: the true meaning is lost when translated, word-for-word it’s “partly” “as/like” “them” Ori’jate: “very good” cyar: “love” riduur: “spouse” Gar serim: “that’s it”, lit. “you’re right” iviin’yc: “fast” Su cuy'gar: “Hello!” lit. “So you're still alive.” Buir’tra: Mother Sky, tho Mando’a has no gender Ni vercopaani kaysh brali: “I hope this works” lit. “I hope it succeeds”

[rolloroberson]

Ragnar Lothbrok’s final words….

“It gladdens me to know that Odin prepares for a feast! Soon I shall be drinking ale from curved horns. This hero that comes into Valhalla does not lament his death. I shall not enter Odin’s hall with fear. There, I shall wait for my sons to join me. And when they do, I will bask in their tales of triumph. The Aesir will welcome me. My death comes without apology. And I welcome the Valkyries to summon me home!”

[last-night-is-a-blur]

Vikings (the Show) thoughts

Spoiler Warning

I find Sigurd dying so early a waste. Both because he died before he managed to do much, and the viewers didn't get to know him well, and because in the tales of Ragnar and his sons, he became king and married Aelle's daughter.

It would be cool if Sigurd became the King of Kattegat (or another place for that matter), married Judith's sister and brought her to Scandinavia. Watching a Saxon princess trying to adjust to life there would have been interesting.

I also find it a waste to kill Gyda so soon. I am curious how she would have turned out. I imagine her as gentle, open-minded and curious woman who longed to explore the world and wanted to carry on Ragnar's dream of seattling in fertile land where their people could live in peace. Not much of a warrior, though she might have learned to fight to protect herself and others. More of a diplomat, explorer and peace-keeper who influences things around her without murder and warfare.

I imagine her staying with Ragnar, since Björn left with Lagertha, and Athelstan becoming like a second father to her. Since Aslaug focused mostly on Ivar, Gyda stepped up to take care of her three other half-brothers.

Someone even suggested that it could have been cool if Gyda had been the woman who "inspired" Harald to conquer Norway, since in the legends that woman was also named Gyda (though she was a daughter of a king named Eiríkur). I kind of like that.

People talking someone becoming King of Iceland is a bit funny, because Iceland has never had it's own king (just foreign kings, who annexed Iceland). For the first few centuries Iceland didn't even have a Head of State. It by several chieftains who together made legislative desicions.

[valkyries-things]

LAGERTHA // SHIELDMAIDEN

“She was a Viking ruler and shield-maiden from what is now Norway, and the onetime wife of the famous Viking Ragnar Lodbrok. Her tale was recorded by the chronicler Saxo in the 12th century. She and the other women of the Norwegian king’s family were put into a brothel for public humiliation. When Ragnar came to avenge the king’s death, many of the women Frø had ordered abused dressed themselves in men's clothing and fought on Ragnar's side. Chief among them, and key to Ragnar's victory, was Lagertha. Impressed with her courage, Ragnar courted her. He eventually divorced her for another woman, but after sending for Norway for support on a civil war, Lagertha came to his aid with 120 ships. Ragnar's son Siward was wounded, Lagertha saved the day for Ragnar with a counter-attack. Upon returning to Norway, she slew her new husband with a spearhead she concealed in her gown. Saxo concludes that she then "usurped the whole of his name and sovereignty; for this most presumptuous dame thought it pleasanter to rule without her husband than to share the throne with him".”

[aressida]

My entry: The True Legacy of my forebears - Unraveling some facts from myths. Pt 2. - Aressida. 20.9.24.

I was standing here, tracing the bloodlines from both my mother’s and father’s sides, uncovering the rich tapestry of my ancestry.

I first discovered my Viking roots last April, tracing them back to the 9th century. It all began with the legendary figures of Ragnar and Aslaug. From there, I found Ivar and his son, which led me to the beginnings of the Montgomery Clan.

My exploration took me further back to Olaf the White, a notable Viking leader known for his conquests in Ireland and the Hebrides, and his wife Aud, whose lineage ties into the saga of Norse exploration.

I eventually traced my ancestry all the way back to Ketil and Kari Fornjotur, a legendary figure said to be one of the first settlers in Iceland.

My roots run deep through Norwegian, Icelandic, Scottish, and Finnish lines, alongside connections to the Laxdaela Saga, Eyrbyggja Saga, Eirik the Red’s Saga, and Landnamabok, all of which are rich with tales of exploration, conflict, and the resilience of the Norse spirit.

When I think of Lagertha, like in the TV series Vikings, I see her as a prominent figure in the Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok. She is portrayed as a fierce shieldmaiden and devoted wife of Ragnar. I did adore her spirit. However, her historical existence is a matter of debate among scholars. While some suggest she may have been inspired by real women warriors from Viking culture, no concrete evidence confirms she was an actual person. So, while Lagertha embodies the indomitable spirit of Viking warriors, I cannot definitively claim she existed in history.

I am also diving deeper into Ivar, who frequently appears in The Tale of Ragnar's Sons and The Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok. From what I have gathered, he is depicted as highly intelligent and strategic, compensating for any limitations he faced. I see how his saga reveals a complex character, highlighting his cunning, cruelty, and strong leadership in Viking warfare. Ivar was known for leading the Great Heathen Army in England, where he played a pivotal role in the Viking conquests. That’s what I know so far.

I also traced some of my bloodlines back to Cornwall, where the Cornish miners lived, and Devon, particularly tied to the early Celtic people and the Kingdom of Dumnonia.

Dumnonia is sometimes associated with Arthurian legend and ancient Celtic royalty, even linking to Switzerland. The history of Cornwall and Devon was shaped by their resistance to Anglo-Saxon invasions, the spread of Christianity, and connections to broader Celtic and Viking cultures.

On my maternal side, the legendary Vikings primarily focused their activities in Northumbria and East Anglia, while my paternal side appears rooted in the southwest of England, where Cornwall and Devon were not part of the main Norse-controlled territories. From what I have learned so far, it seems unlikely there were close familial ties between the Norse and Celts on both sides of my ancestry. Though they interacted through trade, raids, and cultural exchanges, their connections often leaned more toward adversarial or distant.

There are some genealogical roadblocks I am facing, and I am still searching for connections further back in my family line. This means I will need to explore more resources to uncover more information.

I only began discovering these connections earlier this year, and it is been a journey filled with chaos and determination to carve out the time for this exploration. Each new piece of history I uncover adds depth to my understanding of who I am and where I come from.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

-> next for pt.3 will be about the connections between the Nazis and the Freemasonry. (My great-grandfather was a master craft 33rd degree. Yikes!) <-

[ironmyrmidon]

The blood eagle, most famous for its role in the history of the sons of Loðbrók, is an interesting case of historical ambiguity. For those unfamiliar, the blood eagle was (supposedly) a rare form of ritual sacrifice where the victim has their lungs pulled out from their rib cages and splayed open to suggest the shape of eagle wings. The practice is attested only in the ritual sacrifice of nobles and only in revenge against someone who killed the father of the person performing the sacrifice, which might be why the practice was so rare. The most famous case is the sacrifice of King Ælla during the norse invasions of England.

Unfortunately, we only have records of the blood eagle from histories written a few centuries later. These were written by Christian chroniclers, meaning they shared a religion with King Ælla and not with the sons of Loðbrók, so they could be biased against the sons of Loðbrók. Descriptions of the practice are rare and ambiguous, and come from sources that blend myth and history. Perhaps the most famous description comes from the Tale of the Sons of Loðbrók, which does also contain the story of Ragnar Loðbrók killing a Lindwurm, so there are questions about the historicity of the claims made by the tale.

Interestingly, it could also be a mistranslation. It was common for the Norse to associate eagles with leadership and with gruesome deaths. It's possible that original sources evoked the symbolism associated with the eagle to describe the gruesome death of a leadership. The later chroniclers may have lacked an understanding of that symbolism, since the chroniclers were quite culturally and religiously distinct from the Norse during the reigns of the sons of Loðbrók, causing the chroniclers to miss the symbolism evoked by reference to an eagle. These chroniclers, missing the symbolism of the eagle, therefore arrived at the incorrect conclusion that the blood eagle was a distinct ritual sacrifice that bore resemblance to an eagle.

Ultimately we'll never know, but it is certainly an interesting possibility space to consider.

[joncronshawauthor]

Blade of Wolfsbane audiobook is now free on YouTube!

Welcome to the immersive world of Blade of Wolfsbane, a high fantasy novella prequel to Jon Cronshaw’s Ravenglass Legends. This captivating tale, now available as a free full audiobook, is an unforgettable journey into a vibrant universe filled with courageous heroes and electrifying sword fights. In the heart of the story, we meet Ragnar—a chieftain’s son yearning for his father’s respect.…

[tothedevilsshow]

his father, the great ragnar lothbrok stood there before him. and here they would have more time than they ever had in life. they could talk about their great battles, they could eat and drink, they could be father and son for real. what he had wanted before ragnar had gone to die, before ragnar had chosen him. before greatness he had only ever wanted his father. he lets out a small laugh at what he says, his smile remaining as he gives a small shake of his head. "i'm wondering what you do here all day? do we eat and drink and then what - ?" is he joking? or has tales of grandeur, wanting for ragnarok failed him? unsatisfied him?

He watched his son closely, his eyes studying the side of his face. Ivar was a boy, and he had all of his strength and here he was a warrior matching the gods. Ragnar had his youth back, his strength back and he no longer felt the touch of regret and years that he had before he had met with King Ecbert. "And yet you are thinking." He put to Ivar thoughtfully as he reached out to drape his arm over Ivar's shoulders. "What's going on in that mind of yours that's gotten you so quiet?" Ivar was never quiet and to see him so - well, if Ragnar were a good father he knew that pressing him was a way to maybe open him up.

@tothedevilsshow xxx

[philomaela]

Ragnarssons + death | for @laure-demontety

[ceridwenofwales]

I have to express my gratitude to @pokeasleepingsmaug, who gave me the idea and motivation to get back writing Blaeja and Sigurd after the disappointment of season 4b. I’m your fangirl, Morgan!!! Thanks a million for the support.

These past days we had a lot of birthday girls to whom I wish to dedicate this work as well: @skadithegoddess, @princess-sweatpants and @mizzvengenz6661. I love you all.

Tagging: @kirah34,@wanderingsorceress27, @ivarinleatherpants, @daizydoe and @laure-demontety.

Warning: Violence

Note:  I’m mixing saga and show material, but I still picture Ivar as the eldest. Here he is already King of Dublin with adult children.

—————

They won but victory wouldn’t bring his father back. Victory wouldn’t give his aching heart the relief of Ragnar’s warm embrace, the only warmth was the one provided by the spilled blood on that rich and green soil, the blood that was sprinkled on his face.

Bjorn was ripping Aelle’s tunic off of his sweaty back, leaving his skin exposed for what they were planning to do. They would inflict on him the most grueling and brutal torture they knew, one that would match how humiliated they felt after hearing of the manner of Ragnar’s death.

When Bjorn started cutting the King’s skin, Sigurd thought he heard a sob. He shook his head and kept looking at Aelle’s struggling to break free from his restraints. Sigurd’s lips were pressed tightly together and he was breathing heavily out of satisfaction that the man that broke his mother’s heart was suffering.

A strangled whimper and this time he was sure they were not alone in that forest. His eyes started wandering until he saw her. At first, Sigurd thought it was a magical being of the forest because, even at distance, her beauty couldn’t be from their world. The moonlight was covering her skin and making her glow. But when their eyes met and she gasped, Sigurd pondered that none Goddess would be afraid of him. His hand descended to the pommel of the sword hanging from his belt and he started walking to her.

[morganaofcamelot]

Vikings Valhalla review:

No Rollo. Next.

[imaginesmai]

Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (preface)

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist

Plot: Ubbe and you meet for the first time, foreshadowing what your relationship is going to be like.

Warnings: none

-

For a young kid, a castle’s worth wasn’t defined by how expensive the curtains and carpets were, how bright the chandeliers shone. It was about how many good places to climb and hide it had, and the castle of Wessex wasn’t that good. At least, that was what five-year-old prince Ubbe thought.

He missed his home, where he could climb high walls without annoying servants dragging him back to his mother. Back there, his brothers and him could hide behind the counters of the kitchen and only come out when the cooks left, to have a big fest from dinner’s left overs. He didn’t have to worry about tight clothes or protocol, he could behave just as he wanted to.

It didn’t matter if he was the eldest son or if he was the heir to the throne once his father died. He was just Ubbe, and he liked it that way.

“Stop frowning” his mother reminded him, her voice deceptively sweet. “Your father doesn’t want you to make a fool of yourself today”

“But mother, it’s tight. And itchy” he complained, not understanding the bigger picture. Not understanding anything past his uncomfortable clothes and his annoyance. “I want to go back home. Why couldn’t Hvitserk come? I don’t get bored with him”

“Shut up, Ubbe. Just be still and smile” her mother suddenly tightened up when steps were heard from across the corridor. “They’re here. Smile, Ubbe. Be nice”

Ubbe didn’t have time to say anything else, as the doors were open and his father came in. He had left him and his mother there what seemed like ages ago, but now he wasn’t alone. With him came another man, shorter than him and slimmer, laughing loudly. Ubbe guessed he was the king of the palace they were visiting, given he was wearing a crown.

His mother got up and made a curtesy bow, which he imitated. Even though he was bored and wanted to go back home, he knew he had to be polite and behave.

“Oh, my dearest Aslaug! Look at you, as gorgeous as ever” the stranger kissed his mother’s hand, and then looked at Ubbe. “And you should be the young prince, right? Don’t you look elegant”

“I’m Ubbe Ragnarson” the boy smiled widely, looking proudly at his father.

“Wonderful. I’m king Ecbert, and this is my daughter, princess Y/N” he said, although Ubbe couldn’t see any princess there. When Ecbert noticed, he turned around and dragged from behind him a girl.

You were a year younger than Ubbe’s, and if the boy was uncomfortable from being in a stranger’s castle, you were horrified at having to meet one. That morning, your father had made an effort to choose your best gowns and prettiest dress. He had told your about important guests who would come soon, but you didn’t know you had to meet them too.

Which had completely destroyed your plans of having fun, as you did every other day in a castle as the only child. You frowned at the boy in front of you, looking at his wrinkled clothes, smug smile and blue eyes.

He was disgusting.

“Come on, present yourself” your father pushed you towards Ubbe, who took a step back. “Now, darling”

“I’m princess Y/N Ealhmunding” the child tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “I’m four”

“I’m five” Ubbe quickly said, feeling instantly superior to the princess. “I’m older”

“And I’m prettier”

“Y/N!”

Ragnar tried to mask his amusement with a cough, and Ecbert quickly took you by your arm and told you to apologize. But you could only look at Ubbe’s surprised face, his smug smile gone, looking utterly offended. With a small smile, you apologized and let the adults do all the introductions.

While they talked, you didn’t tear your eyes away from the prince, and neither did he. He wasn’t easily annoyed – with three brothers, he was more than used to teasing. But he was also used to being the eldest, in charge of the room and game they were playing. And even if they fought and argued like any other children, Ubbe wasn’t annoyed.

But you were looking at him with that snide smile, the corner of your mouth stained with a chocolate he hadn’t tasted and that he wanted. So he tried his best to win the staring contest and let your know with just a look that he didn’t like you at all.

And that he would never do.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated