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whitedarkmoonflower · 7 months ago

Text

Yield to me

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: a request from lovely @wildchild2707 Thank you for trusting me to write you a story. I hope you'll like it. It fit perfectly with my mood as I'm giffing S3 now. @thenameswinter99 thank you so much for helping to overcome the sudden block in the middle of writing 💖

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Summary: you and Sihtric are sent to Bloodhair's camp to spy, and apparently there is more to discover than the secret plans of the Danes

Word Count: 5,9 K

You could almost feel it – that piercing, even furious look burning holes in the back of your neck, lips pressed tightly together in a thin line, spitting words with a taste of acid. Yet, you chose to ignore him.

Your fingers continued to toy with the knife, your eyes discreetly scanning the warriors gathered around the different bonfires, the play of light and shadow dancing across their faces, the fire's crackling annoyingly loud. Amidst the clamour, numerous voices speaking in various dialects and tongues wafted through the air, mingling with the smoke. You had no patience for Sihtric's trivialities; your head spun from the cacophony around you.

Distinct dialects of Gaelic, Norse, Gutnish, and Welsh were discernible in the midst of the crowd. This was likely how it had felt at the Tower of Babel, you mused to yourself. Bloodhair had succeeded in assembling Danes and other fortune-seeking scum from all corners of the islands and even beyond the seas.

"Careful now, don't cut yourself," a rough hand suddenly landed on your thigh, a thick, booming voice abruptly wrenching you from your thoughts. It was a reflex, beyond your control, your fingers wrapping around the unfamiliar palm, grabbing the thumb and wrenching it to the side. A short cry and a loud thud, the body crushing against the hard ground, were the only sounds as you found yourself sitting atop a bewildered man, your eyes wide, teeth bared, and with your knife at his throat.

"The only thing I'll cut is your throat," you hissed, eyes scanning your catch. He was not unattractive, you observed, and he smelled good, unlike the majority in this cursed camp. Surely an Earl, you had seen him before, at the main fire with Bloodhair, Cnut, and Haesten.

A valuable take, this is your chance, don't squander it, you cautioned yourself.

"Hey, easy! I didn't mean any harm," the Dane raised his hands, surrendering.

"Give me one good reason not to cut your balls off," you scoffed, studying the stranger carefully.

"I know a much better use for them," there was no anxiety in his voice, but neither was there anger, and you slowly relaxed your muscles, still scanning his face.

“I want to know everything, every smallest detail,” you had never seen Uhtred so agitated before. Your big brother, though not bound by blood, your anchor, your stronghold, your grounding force in every tempest. You had seen him everything but scared and yet his voice quivered, betraying the angst he tried to conceal, eating him from within like a worm gnawing at an apple.

“I can handle it without a babysitter,” you sneered at him, disdain evident in your voice.

It was not merely chance, but destiny that had brought you together - you, Uhtred and Brida. Three children abandoned by fate, bound by love and friendship forged in the crucible of shared pain and suffering. You all had lost everything in that fateful night when the Danes had set their foot on the lands of Bebbanburg, yet you had found each other – an unbreakable bond, a thread to navigate through life and beyond.

"I want you both to work together. Sihtric is not going there to look after you. Four eyes can see more than two. You speak all the tongues across the islands and beyond. He's considered my closest friend, my right hand, along with Finan. They'll be eager to welcome him and extract all my secrets. It's a perfect combination. I want you to trust him the way I trust him. Can you do that for me?" Uhtred's hands grasped yours, his scrutinising gaze searching for reassurance.

Could you? At the beginning you couldn’t bring yourself to trust him. He was Kjartan’s bastard, the blood and flesh of the man who had shattered your fragile lives for the second time, and he had attempted to kill Uhtred.

You could still recall his feverish gaze, darting from you to Uhtred, his bound hands slightly quivering as he held the blade at Halig’s throat. Just a boy on the brink of manhood, grappling for his chance to survive, yet so determined not to surrender.

You didn’t question Uhtred’s decision, but you couldn’t shake off the doubts that nagged at you. There was something about the quiet and reserved young warrior, something elusive, something you couldn’t quite grasp, simultaneously intriguing and unsettling you.

You had observed him in Dunholm, still half-expecting him to betray you all, to switch sides in the blink of an eye.

The clang of weapons thundered through your ears, nostrils flaring as you inhaled the sour air, thick with the stench of blood and angst. The shouts of the warriors mingled with Kjartan's piercing cry, Ragnar’s sword severing his wrist, denying him entrance to Valhalla. Wild howls echoed through the yard as the same sword swung in the air repeatedly—a cacophony of sounds and images melded into pure chaos, assaulting your senses like ocean waves threatening to engulf you. Yet, amidst the chaos, your gaze remained fixed on one face in the crowd: Sihtric’s.

His expression, contorted by anxiety and anticipation since the first clash of swords, transformed into gleeful triumph and contentment at Kjartan’s defeat, only to sour into disgust and revulsion the next moment. It was then and there that you realized the depth of the shallow and distant gaze with which he often stared into the fire, seemingly detached from the laughter and banter around him. It was as though you had been granted a glimpse into his soul, witnessing all the hidden pain, shame, and guilt reflected in his large, mismatched eyes, unable to look away.

Although Kjartan lay dead, the sword continued its relentless swing, chopping and slicing as if attempting to wrench life from his body anew with each stroke. The large, deep eyes of the boy turned warrior flinched in rhythm with the moving weapon, embracing the liberating truth, while scruple and doubt glistened within them as he struggled to believe, to comprehend that it was over. Finally over. For all of you.

"It should have been me," the words sliced through the silence of the night like a blade, as you found him sitting alone, far removed from the cheerful chatter around the bonfires. His back leaned against the mighty fortress wall, arms resting on his knees. The distant flicker of firelight danced in his large eyes, his gaze sweeping over the buildings with a feverish gleam, as if searching for something, as if seeing something beyond your perception.

“Sihtric, I…” Your attempt to comfort him with a gentle touch on his shoulder was met with a fury, as he shrugged off your hand. He jumped to his feet, feverishly rubbing his eyes with his sleeves. In a momentary blink, the gleam in his eyes revealed itself to be tears, before he stormed away, pushing you aside roughly.

Since that evening, a silent distance hung between the two of you, not by your choice. If anything had shifted on your end, it was the sense of him— the same unquenchable thirst for revenge tightening your heart in the dark of the long, cold nights. Even though you couldn’t see the ghosts of Dunholm’s lost souls, you knew he could. Your suspicion and mistrust had finally dissipated, morphing into something else, something warm and soothing that you couldn’t quite put a name to.

It was Sihtric who apparently didn’t want neither your company, nor your comfort, avoiding you as much as possible. And so, you remained silent, giving him the space he seemed to need.

So, could you trust him as Uhtred was asking? Yes, you could. You were just unsure if Sihtric could reciprocate that trust. But there was nothing you wouldn't do for your brother. The tender kiss Uhtred had placed on your wrists still burned in your memory.

“Nobody knows about it. Not even Finan, not Osferth. Nobody. You’ll leave like traitors. Both of you,” Uhtred's voice dropped to a silent whisper, and you nodded, accepting the weight of the task placed upon you. You would fulfil it at any cost. You would free your brother from the curse the witch had cast upon him.

You slowly withdrew your knife from the stranger’s throat and stepped back, extending your hand to help him to his feet, an offer he accepted.

“Are you alone? Where’s your clan?” the Dane inquired, studying you with a scrutinising gaze.

“I don’t have a clan. I came with him,” you nodded toward Sihtric, seated at another fire, and returned the knife to its scabbard on your back. Once more, you could feel the weight of Sihtric's angry gaze boring into your flesh from a distance. He still hadn't grasped it, hadn't accepted that you were here on your own mission, that you neither needed nor wanted his protection.

He had choked on his ale, coughing furiously, when Uhtred had informed him you would be accompanying him.

“Lord, it’s too dangerous,” was the first thing he had said. “You can’t send her there.”

You snorted in disdain, stepping forward with fury burning in your eyes. He had witnessed your prowess in battle, seen you take down men much larger than yourself, and yet he doubted you, considering you weak. You were a warrior, your small and fragile appearance deceiving, both a curse and a blessing, concealing the steel beneath the softness of your velvety skin.

“I need neither your approval nor permission,” you hissed through gritted teeth, fixing him with a steely gaze. “Whether you come with me or not, that's your decision.”

And, predictably, he came. He could not refuse his lord’s order. You both departed under cover of night after a heated dispute with Uhtred, freeing the imprisoned Danes beforehand, but the silence between you grew even heavier. You felt like a burden to him, and you didn’t need words to confirm it. The heavy sighs, the silent shakes of his head, his gaze lingering on you before turning away the moment you met it—they spoke volumes. But you didn’t care, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Husband of yours?” the Dane inquired, slight disappointment evident in his voice.

“No, just a travel companion. We both served under the Dane Slayer, but the witch has stolen his mind, and now we are here,” you spat with disdain at the mention of her, your anger and scorn genuine and unfeigned.

Sihtric drew a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heartbeat. It felt insane. What were you even doing here? What had Uhtred been thinking, sending you into such danger? How could he be so blind, so reckless with your life?

The anger with which he had hurled insults at Uhtred that night before departure had been genuine—the fury that Uhtred, in his bid to save his own skin, was willing to sacrifice everything, even you—his sister, his unwavering companion through all the tumultuous twists and turns of his unruly life, and in Sihtric’s eyes – certainly the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had fallen in love with you; it seemed as if he had always felt this way, from the very first moment he laid eyes on you next to Uhtred. Your hand steady and poised on the hilt of your sword, your eyes—beautiful, deep, dark, and somewhat sorrowful—following his every move, every breath, while his own fingers quivered, his knuckles turning white from the force of gripping the hilt of Halig’s sword pressed against its owner’s throat.

As he finally dropped the sword, his fingers wrapping around Thor's hammer on his neck to swear his oath to his new lord, the resounding echo of his own words thundered in his ears and his gaze never left yours, pleading and promising.

He knew you harboured no fondness for him, no trust either, and he couldn’t blame you for it. Yet, he had hoped that with time, things would evolve, that he could earn your trust as he had Uhtred’s. Instead, he had only exposed his vulnerability, revealing himself as just a boy haunted by the ghosts of his past, far from the man or warrior he aspired to be for you.

Returning to Dunholm—the graveyard of his dreams and hopes—filled him with dread. Yet, the desire to prove himself to you, to demonstrate that he was more than a frightened boy bargaining for his life, coupled with the ambition to exhibit his courage, loyalty, and perhaps earn an approving smile from the most beautiful eyes on this side of the world, had been overpowering. Only to have those hopes shattered by your pitying gaze when you encountered him that evening after the battle. With nothing left but to retreat and await another opportunity.

The journey to Bloodhair’s camp had become a nightmare of its own. He struggled to conceal his emotions, hoping that the occasional sighs he couldn’t suppress or the furtive glances he stole in your direction—quickly averting his eyes when caught—wouldn’t betray him.

Now, you were trapped here, deep within enemy territory, each day fraught with the risk of discovery and capture. While Uhtred had kept his promise to keep Brida away from the camp, the fear of her sudden appearance loomed like a raised axe; she couldn’t be deceived. She knew you better than anyone, and consumed by grief over Ragnar's loss, she was unpredictable.

Sihtric adamantly refused to let you out of his sight. It was too perilous, and the thought of you disregarding the danger drove him to the edge of madness. He kept a vigilant watch over you, growing increasingly frustrated by the day as you dismissed his concerns. How could he protect you if you refused to acknowledge the peril, insisting instead on separating to gather more information?

You hadn’t expected it to be so easy. A satisfied smile threatened to curl on your lips as the Dane, whom you had nearly beheaded, invited you to join him at the larger fire. He settled beside you, and as the night progressed and the laughter grew louder, you didn’t push away his large palm as it found its way back to your thigh.

“I’ll be straight with you - I like you, wildcat,” he chuckled in your ear as the flames started to dwindle. “You're welcome at this fire anytime, and if you're interested, you're welcome in my tent too.”

You smiled, tilting your head to the side as you eyed the broad-shouldered man. You knew this game all too well. It was a hunt, and like every hunt, timing was everything. Let your arrow fly too soon, and you miss your prey; linger too long, and it'll slip away. It was too early for the perfect strike, but your prey was taking the bait, thinking himself the hunter. You stifled the laughter bubbling in your chest, turning it into a muffled chuckle.

“I’ll consider it,” you replied, not making any promises, just teasing, baiting. Your fingers traced a path from the Dane's shoulder over the fur cloak covering his broad chest, and you saw the trap you had laid out snap in his dark, smirking eyes. He was a worthy adversary, quite handsome even, and above all, you appreciated when men were straightforward.

If playing this game brought you closer to the talks and whispers you were so eager to hear, you were more than willing to participate.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" an angry hiss stung your ear just as you were about to slip into your tent, your hand instinctively reaching for the dagger behind your back.

“Damn,” you swore loudly, spotting the silhouette emerging from the shadows. “You're lucky you're still breathing.”

“I saw you with that brute. You need to be more careful. I’ve told you so many times…” If looks could kill, Sihtric would have dropped dead on the spot.

“You're not my father, you're not my brother, you're not my husband. You're nobody to me, and you have nothing to tell me,” you spat out your words at him, as if hurling daggers. Not that there was anyone in your life who could actually tell you what to do. You were your own master, and it was time for Sihtric to grasp that.

"We both have tasks here, so you'd better start with yours. Besides, I’m enjoying the company of that warrior," you hissed, throwing open the flaps of your tent, eager to vanish from Sihtric’s view as soon as possible. However, you were abruptly halted by an iron grip around your wrist.

“So, I'm a nobody,” a strange metallic tone tinged Sihtric’s voice, a quality you had never detected before, momentarily seizing your attention. You turned your head, and your surprised gaze was met by two deep pools of pure fury. “I get it. You're right, I am. I’ve been a nobody all my damn life. And who are you?”

You attempted to retrieve your hand, but Sihtric’s grip only tightened, and anger slowly churned in your stomach as your other hand stealthily slid behind your back to grasp the dagger.

"A smug and heedless badger digging deeper into its burrow, oblivious to everything happening outside. What have I done to deserve being treated like a dog? Ignored, dismissed at every turn, forced to watch you fawning over that filthy boar."

“A badger?” you snorted, your tone a mix of anger and amusement at Sihtric’s sudden outburst. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, your common sense whispered for you to cease, recognizing you had clearly crossed a line and needlessly wounded him. However, retreat and admission of fault were not traits you readily embraced. You silenced your inner voice with a smug grin, a challenge glinting in your eyes as you met Sihtric’s gaze. “That filthy boar smelled better than you ever did,” you shot back.

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt of your dagger, swiftly drawing it forth, but your attempt lacked the element of surprise; Sihtric had anticipated your move. Through countless sparring sessions, he had grown familiar with your tricks.

Releasing your wrist, Sihtric deftly parried your armed hand, swiftly yanking it back and leveraging the motion to flip you over, simultaneously seizing the dagger from your grasp and positioning it threateningly against your throat, while pressing your back firmly against his chest.

With a furious stomp on his foot, you exploited the moment of distraction to drive your elbow into Sihtric’s abdomen. He grimaced in pain, doubling over and gasping for breath, giving you the opportunity to sidestep and confront him face-to-face. But before you could act further, Sihtric’s arms encircled your waist, using his weight to shove you backwards, sending both of you tumbling through the tent entrance.

You grunted as your back collided with the fur-laid ground. Before you could formulate your next move, Sihtric landed atop you, straddling your waist and pinning your arms above your head. A primal growl escaped you as you squirmed and struggled against his restraint.

“That’s enough. Cease this. Surrender. I don’t wish to harm you,” Sihtric attempted a conciliatory tone, but the smug smirk on his lips was impossible to conceal.

“Never,” you hissed through gritted teeth, persisting in your furious struggle against Sihtric’s grasp.

With your breath coming in panting gasps and your mind racing, seeking any possible escape route, you initially even failed to register what was happening. The sensation of Sihtric’s lips against yours was scorching, his hands still restraining you, refusing to release their hold. Your eyes widened in astonishment as you momentarily ceased your futile resistance, the anger pulsating within you fading like a dying ember in a gentle breeze.

Though your muscles relaxed and the frantic struggle abated, Sihtric gave no indication of noticing, his grip still firm, his weight pressing you down as his lips fervently explored yours, kissing you with rough, bruising intensity.

You could swear your heart leapt into your throat, its rapid thudding almost deafening, as you struggled to suppress the burgeoning excitement. Yet, your own body betrayed you, a fiery heat igniting in your belly, matching the rhythm of Sihtric’s lips moving against yours.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as a soft whine escaped you, but Sihtric suddenly pulled away, releasing your arms and sitting back on his heels. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your dagger lying on the ground nearby, just out of reach.

“I’m sorry. I... I didn’t mean to…” Sihtric stammered, confusion evident on his handsome face as he scratched the back of his head. In that moment, you saw your opportunity. With a swift motion, you toppled him over toward the dagger, and in the blink of an eye, you were straddling him, the blade at his throat and a triumphant smirk on your lips.

"Gotcha," you laughed, intoxicated by the feeling of regaining control, not even pausing to consider that the victory might have been too easy.

Leaning in closer until your noses nearly touched, you watched him intently, breathing in his scent — leather, fire smoke, and ale mingled with the sweet aroma of his skin, both warming and exhilarating. A subdued chuckle escaped your lips as you noticed the mischievous sparks dancing in Sihtric’s large, expressive, two-toned eyes, a hint of suspicion creeping in that perhaps your agility alone wasn’t solely responsible for this small triumph.

Sihtric’s wide-eyed pupils tracked your every move, and in the sudden silence, you felt as if you could hear both your hearts beating frantically, breaths hitching in your chests. You pressed the dagger just a fraction tighter against his skin, enough to draw a few red drops trickling down the blade. Despite the slight pierce, not a single flinch touched Sihtric’s face as he slowly tilted his head backward, fully exposing his throat to you, his gaze still locked with yours.

The air crackled with anticipation, both your breaths quickening. Had you paused to consider, you might have chosen differently, but in that moment, your mind was suddenly empty. All that remained was the memory of the warm, thrilling sensation that had filled your core just a moment before. With a trembling exhale, you crushed your lips against Sihtric’s. The muted growl that tore through him sent shivers down your spine as you released the dagger and cupped his face, pulling him closer.

Sihtric’s strong arms enveloped your shoulders, and you gasped as you were flipped over effortlessly, like a feather. Once again beneath Sihtric’s towering frame, pressed against the fur with the weight of his body, you didn’t resist. Your fingers tangled in Sihtric’s hair as you dared not let go, your lips seeking his, parting with a hushed moan to welcome his greedy, heated tongue.

“Do you surrender?” A mischievous smile danced on Sihtric’s lips as he finally pulled away from your red, kiss-swollen lips.

“Never,” you smirked, reaching out to pull him into another passionate kiss.

With a soft whimper, you arched your back against the hard ground, covered only by a thin fur, as Sihtric’s hands began to roam over your clothes. He deftly tugged at the laces, liberating you from the leathers that concealed your skin from his touch.

Your hands were just as eager, but he was quicker. You had barely managed to pull off his leather jerkin, revealing his incredibly well built upper body to your bewildered gaze, as he freed you from the last piece of cloth, a sharp gasp leaving his chest as his ravenous gaze slid over your naked frame.

“We’ll see,” Sihtric chuckled while his lips trailed a hot path down your neck, making you gasp for air each time he sucked on your exposed skin, leaving teasing stings on his way to your chest. His skin against yours was warm and pleasantly soft and you found yourself unable to fight against the deep moan swaying through you, as his mouth closed around your hardening nipples.

“My beautiful unyielding warrior,” Sihtric’s lips continued their travel down your naked body, his low, husky voice sending shivers down your spine, “I’m going to make you feel so good as you have never felt before, I’ll show you the stars, and you will yield to me, willingly.”

“Oh gods,” was all you could murmur as his hands took hold of your hips, keeping you in place, and his tongue swept through your core. He knew exactly what he was doing, as his lips wrapped around your pearl, sucking gently, a satisfied hum leaving him as you choked on your own breath each time the lap of his hot tongue sent a new wave of shudders through your body, building up the pleasure, that slowly overtook all your senses.

Eyes rolling back into your head, you buried your teeth in your lower lip, in a futile attempt to keep quiet, but you couldn’t. Wild moans rolled over your lips as Sihtric was bringing you closer to the edge. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined the silent and hesitant young warrior being able to bring you to the brink of madness so masterly and so quickly.

Another deep moan swayed through you as he forced two fingers inside you.

Sihtric grinned in satisfaction, loving the lewd sounds, rolling over your parted lips, drinking in the sight of you - hair wild and dishevelled, eyes half lid and rolling back in your head, breath heavy and panting, hips moving up and down against his fingers - the most beautiful sight he could ever imagine. He had always dreamed of having you buried beneath him like this, yet he had never dared to believe it could actually come true.

You whined loudly as he suddenly pulled away.

“Sihtric, please, I need more,” you mewled in a desperate need to have him back.

“You need more of what?” he smirked, placing a tender kiss on your inner thigh. You shuddered, feeling his breath so close to where you wanted him.

“I need you,” you whimpered through panting breaths.

“So beautiful, so wild and unruly,” Sihtric hummed as his mouth travelled to your other thigh, “So fucking perfect for me.”

“Gods, Sihtric, please, I need you,” you whined, your voice cracking.

“Are you yielding, my fiercest warrior?” Sihtric asked, delving his tongue in your dripping heat, just to retrieve again.

“I am, fuck, I am,” you moaned breathlessly, forgetting everything – your pride, your ego, your anger – there was no room for any other emotion as the overwhelming yearning for Sihtric’s touch. With a satisfied hum, Sihtric thrusted his fingers back in your tight channel, starting to pump them in and out, and you were swept away by the new wave of pleasure.

You were already so close to the edge, feeling the warmth, cursing through your body pooling into one large flame. Your fingers dug in the fur beneath you in an attempt to hold on to something, to ground yourself, as your head snapped back, your body went taut and your walls started to clench around Sihtric’s fingers.

“Yes, that’s good. I can feel you, come for me, beautiful,” Sihtric murmured softly, his tongue starting to circle around and lap over your sensitive nub, and there was no way of holding it back any longer. You felt like a tightly drawn bow suddenly released, the tension snapping and transforming into pure energy, as you came on Sihtric’s fingers and tongue, your climax washing over you in waves of pure bliss, your body trembling and shuddering from the intensity of it.

Sihtric kept fucking you through your orgasm with his fingers, letting you savour the moment and the sinfull sensation, pulsing through your vanes like an inferno, sweeping away everything in it’s way. You were blank, like an empty parchment. Carried away in the current of pleasure you floated somewhere between this world and the other.

“You are mine now, my sweet wildflower,” Sihtric’s voice reached through your hazy mind, grounding you back to earth. “You yielded, and now you are mine.”

You wanted to protest, to reject his claim, but the words forming on your tongue dissolved in the tenderness of Sihtric’s kiss, his fingers delicately tracing your cheek.

“Say it again,” you whispered, locking eyes with his mismatched gaze.

“You are mine,” Sihtric affirmed, his voice low and soft yet resolute, causing your heart to quicken. Whom were you trying to fool here? Wasn’t this what you had secretly dreamed of since that night in Dunholm, though too afraid to acknowledge it fully?

Silence hung between you until you mustered the courage to break it. “I am yours, Sihtric,” you murmured, savouring the weight of your own words. They felt unfamiliar yet strangely satisfying, even liberating. The groan that escaped Sihtric made you grin, as his lips found yours again, stealing your breath away.

You yelped as Sihtric’s strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion, carrying you to the pile of furs serving as your bed and placing you carefully on top of it. You propped yourself up on your elbows and sat upright, watching Sihtric hastily getting rid of his breeches, a sharp exhale vibrating through your chest at the sight of his hard cock. He was big, and you were not a novice in that matter. The thought alone of him inside you, made your core pulse in pleasant anticipation.

“You are a big boy,” you mused, as he approached, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and giving it a teasing lick from tip to root, feeling it throb in your hand. You wrapped your lips around it and let your tongue slide over the sensitive tip. Sihtric moaned, shuddering at your touch.

“Do you think you can handle me?”

You just smirked at him in response, as Sihtric pushed you firmly back on the furs, crawling on top of you, crowding you like a wild beast. There was something wolfish in his demeanour, his tense, perfectly chiselled muscles rippling beneath his skin, his eyes darkening as if fixated on prey.

“I'm not gonna go easy on you,” his husky voice dripped into your ears like sweet poison, thrilling and intoxicating. It made every hair on your body stand on end and wetness pool between your legs, leaving you to wonder whether it was a warning or a promise. You had never seen him like this, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t excite you. There was evidently much more to discover beneath the reserved and bashful exterior of the young warrior, and you weren't just curious—you were burning with desire to explore.

“Sihtric, just fuck me,” you exclaimed, pulling him in for a heated kiss, and Sihtric groaned against your mouth, aligning himself with your cunt. He pushed into you, and you moaned loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders, savouring the delicious stretch as your walls took him in, pulsing around him.

There was nothing gentle in the way he fucked you, and now you understood why he had cared to place you on the big, soft keep of furs. His hips thrusted against you with a crushing power, showing you ever higher up the keep, skin snapping against skin, relentlessly pushing himself into you until the very end of his length.

His groans and hisses mingled with your moans and you were sure the half of the camp had by now definitely heard you, the fabric of the tent not an obstacle for the sounds, but you couldn’t care less. You enjoyed every single deep thrust, every single brush of his cock against that sweet swollen spot deep inside you, that made your back arch and your eyes roll back in your head, the familiar heat pooling into your belly and turning into hot, searing flame.

“Gods, how good you feel around me,” Sihtric hissed between panting breaths and you just mewled something incomprehensible in response too lost in your pleasure for any words or even coherent thoughts.

Having you here, writhing beneath him, taking his cock and moaning in pleasure, your nails leaving marks on his skin, exceeded Sihtric's wildest hopes. He had aimed to earn your trust, perhaps your friendship, but this was something else, something he didn’t dare to put a name to, not yet.

You had so unexpectedly gotten under his sway, and he desired nothing more than to please you, to immerse you in the most breathtaking sensations he could offer. For despite his longing for your surrender, there was something he craved even more.

“You are nobody to me,” you had spat in anger, and those words cut deeper than any blade ever could. He would have accepted anything from you—hate, anger—but not indifference, not from you.

Sihtric felt your walls start to clench around him, telling him that you were close to the edge.

“Common, my beautiful warrior, you can give me more,” he growled, fastening his pace, eyes getting glassy and breath rugged, as he was chasing his own release now.

“Fuck, Sihtric, I … I can’t anymore,” you hissed and after few more thrusts you were there, the pooling heat exploded within you, rolling over you, engulfing you and you let yourself fell into that blissful state where nothing else mattered apart from the indescribable, otherworldly pleasure washing over you in hot waves.

Sihtric kept fucking you through your orgasm, savouring the feeling of your walls shuddering and clenching around him, squeezing him, until he couldn’t hold back anymore and he came, spilling his seed deep inside you with a throbbing groan.

Sihtric collapsed beside you, pulling you into his embrace, his panting breath hot against your sweaty skin as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck. He wanted to prolong this moment, to stretch it into infinity, as somewhere deep inside him, he dreaded what would come after, unconsciously fearing that there actually might be no after.

Your head still hazy and spinning from the intensity of your climax, you turned slowly to face him. Your eyes roamed his handsome face, pausing at the scars on his forehead and right cheek. His embrace was firm, somewhat possessive, yet simultaneously tender, attuned to your every move, every breath. Like a young wolf resting after a good hunt—relaxed but alert—your wolf, your wild beast, ready to be tamed.

"You okay?" Sihtric asked, gently tucking your hair behind your ear, his thumb hovering over your cheek.

You simply nodded, unable to find your voice, enchanted by the soothing calmness radiating from Sihtric, having no idea about the tempest raging behind that shell. He smiled and leaned in, brushing his lips over yours.

"I might be nobody to you, but you are everything to me," Sihtric's gaze locked with yours, his heart racing in his chest with maddening speed. It was the moment of truth he had always dreaded. He surrendered his heart to you, knowing there were only two possibilities: acceptance or rejection.

"You are not nobody, you never have been. You are mine. I drew your blood, and I claimed you," you stated boldly, meeting his gaze with determination. "You are mine, Sihtric Kjartansson," you repeated firmly, "and I am yours."

A deep sigh of relief escaped Sihtric as he pulled you back into his embrace, his lips affirming your claim with a passionate kiss.

"A badger!" you suddenly laughed, recalling how it all began, leading to this moment of firm embrace you never wanted to end. "You called me a badger!" you snorted, playfully punching him in the stomach.

“My wild, ignorant, beautiful badger,” Sihtric chuckled in response, gently nuzzling your dishevelled hair.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric #the last kingdom #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #sihtric smut

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zaldritzosrose · 1 month ago

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Let's Cause A Little Trouble (Pretty Boys x Dane!Reader)

Summary: You hadn't always been one to steadfastly worship your gods - you would pray before battle and such but nothing more. But when you heard tell of the mischief that surrounded Friday 13th, you felt inclined to celebrate a little more. Shenanigans and silliness with Uhtred and Finan was on the cards. But for your lovers...well, Sihtric and Osferth had something else planned to sate your need for mischief.

All inspired by a post and some research into the Norse Goddess Freya and the lore behind Friday 13th...enjoy!

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, Dane reader, romantic/polyamorous relationship with Osferth and Sihtric (p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), a nice ye olde trip to Paris, threesome, innuendo, profanity, Sihtric being dominant, Osferth being submissive, reader as a switch. Platonic relationship with Uhtred and Finan, Finan is big bro coded, Uhtred is mother hen, mentions of hunting (Blood Month).

Words: 5576

Happy Spooky Season! This is my first fic submission to our Fan Frankentober Event (masterlist will be found here) in collab with a few lovely moots! Head over to @fandomeventcenter for more info!

It was like the gods were on your side, or at least that’s what you kept telling everyone.

You had always thought the stories of Freya and Friday 13th were nonsense. There was no reason for a number to be considered more sacred, important or whatever else than another. But the more you heard it, the more tempting the idea was. A day where mischief, sensuality and fun were to be had. That’s how it was described. All dedicated to the patron goddess of love and fertility. A goddess you, as a Dane believed in.

And even more so now, when your two lovers overheard you discussing the day with a few more Danes in Rumcofa. Planning how to celebrate it, now it coincidentally fell during Blood Month. Fate seemed to have planned things perfectly.

Osferth was skeptical. He never belittled your beliefs; your differing religions were rarely a sore point in your relationship with the monk. But he wasn’t entirely convinced on using a sacred day to pursue mischief and depravity.

Sihtric however, was more than eager. Whether it was the heightened emotions he felt during Blood Month or his true belief in Friday 13th, you didn’t know. But you had never quite seen him so determined to honour a sacred day. And he was more than happy to take to convincing Osferth of its merit.

“Think of the fun we could have, Osferth!” Sihtric laughed, trying yet another tactic to bring the young monk to his way of thinking.

Osferth sighed, Sihtric was a relentless man, stubborn at the best of times. He knew well enough that it would only be a matter of time before he agreed to whatever Sihtric said.

“How is it different from the fun we have now?” Osferth asked, pushing open the door to your house.

Both of them regularly walked in uninvited. It was simply habit that had the three of you living separately, but it also kept the intimate details of your relationship safe from more close-minded observers.

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak when you came hurrying out of your bedroom, piles of cloth in your arms. Neither of them questioned it, preparations for Blood Month were underway and everyone had been roped in to help.

“Are you still not convinced, Osferth?” you asked, placing the cloth into an already half full basket on your table.

Osferth looked between the two of you. Sihtric had a smug smile on his face while you busied yourself with the rest of your supplies for the hunt.

“I just…is this really important to you, my love?” Osferth asked, and the look you gave him at the endearment, the gentle blush on your cheeks.

You put down the rest of the cloth in your hands, turning to take his hands in yours.

“I suppose it is. I have never wanted to honour a sacred day before…but now I have you both.”

Sihtric’s smile only widened. It was like he could see Osferth’s mind changing. If there was anyone who could convince him, it was you.

“And if that sacred day just so happens to mean we can indulge ourselves more than usual, then where is the problem?” Sihtric took a few steps closer to Osferth, his hands coming to rest on the monk’s shoulders.

Between the two of you, Osferth’s resolve was slowly waning. Your fingers circled his palms while Sihtric’s larger hands travelled down and gripped his biceps tight.

With a soft sigh, Osferth nodded. What harm would a little mischief and carnality do?

The hunt was planned. Uhtred and Finan, however, had a little extra planning that they needed your help with. The hunt during Blood Month was a huge event, the entire town would happily get involved.

But this hunt in particular seemed more important than usual. Aethelstan, a royal son being raised in safety by Uhtred and the boys, was about to participate for the first time.

It wasn’t that Uhtred had never wanted him to participate, he just wanted him to truly be ready. But that didn’t mean Aethelstan’s first hunt was going to be an easy ride.

Finan had got wind of your interest in the mischief that came with Friday 13th and had convinced Uhtred to plan the hunt for that very day. What better way to test Aethelstan’s mettle than with a few well-placed obstacles?

Uhtred had agreed to the plan, on the promise that the pranks were to be harmless fun and nothing more. All that was left was to put said plan into action.

The boys waited for you in the woods outside Rumcofa. Sihtric had been put in charge of preparing Aethelstan to hunt, Osferth was in charge of the post hunt feast.

With your laden basket tucked under your arm, your hurried steps took you out to meet your friends.

“So, do you have everything?” Finan called, taking the basket from your hands.

Finan had given you a list of what they needed, and you had provided what you could. Cloth of all different colours and textures, apparently to make what would look like people. Something to throw off Aethelstan as he hunted.

Uhtred was just off in the distance, digging holes to cover with leaves and sticks. Not for Aethelstan, you weren’t all that cruel. These were for the boar he would be tasked to hunt. Traps to make sure he at least had a chance of succeeding.

“Do you really think he’s going to believe these are people?”

Your voice held an air of disbelief, but Finan chose to ignore it. He began wrapping the cloth around sacks of what you guessed was hay. Bulked out enough to look like a torso from afar.

“The adrenaline of the hunt will get him; his mind will be in overdrive.” Finan explained, and you had to admit it made sense.

Hunts weren’t that different from battles, you wagered. Adrenaline, the need for survival coursing through your veins, making you focus on your goal not the details around you.

“We need to scare him a little, hmm? Spook him?” you asked, taking a few rolls of cloth from the basket.

You had seen it before, hanging sheets from trees to spook kids during Samhain – harmless of course. There was no reason why it wouldn’t work now either.

You grabbed some rope from Uhtred’s pile, despite his protests and climbed up a nearby tree. It was makeshift, but as you hung the heavy cloth from a branch, it hung just loose enough to look like a cloaked body.

Finan watched, slowly cottoning on to what you meant by ‘spook him’. The ideas were simple, but that was the point.

The whole of Rumcofa was out of their homes and ale flowed between man and woman alike. The cheers and laughter, you wagered, could probably be heard in the next two towns over.

But that was Blood Month. Anything short of mayhem would be a disappointment.

Tables were laden with food, all brought out into a makeshift town square. Children were running around, chasing each other and pretending to participate in the hunt that would soon come.

You were stood between Sihtric and Osferth. Your relationship was more of a known secret. No one asked, no one talked about it. The three of you simply existed. You were all happy, and that was all that mattered.

Osferth leaned against a nearby house, ale in hand. His free arm was wrapped around your waist, while Sihtric’s was wrapped around your shoulders. There was nowhere else you’d rather be, tucked between your warrior and your monk.

“Is our little Valkyrie ready for the hunt?” Sihtric whispered, leaning down and nudging your cheek with his nose.

Osferth chuckled, Sihtric’s nickname for you was a perfect description. You were fierce yet gentle, a formidable warrior and a beautiful woman.

“As ready as I could be. Not worried I’ll show you up, are you, boys?”

Now they both laughed, shaking their heads.

They knew you were only teasing, of course, but you enjoyed reminding them of your capabilities. You were a warrior long before you joined Uhtred’s service. Your relationship with Osferth had begun when he’d begged you to show him how to hold a sword.

Osferth had assumed the two of you were together, despite your denials. He had remained your friend at first, kept his distance when he’d seen how Sihtric looked at you. And Sihtric’s denials, or his trips to the different brothels wherever the group travelled. Months passed and the three of you were the closest of friends.

Until one night after a battle, a few months ago now. Osferth had been looking for Sihtric – though he couldn’t remember why now – and he could hear the faint sounds of both your voices. But the closer he got, the less it sounded like just a conversation.

It might have been the ale in his veins, but Osferth had found himself at the doorway. Motionless, watching the two of you. You laid out on a bed and Sihtric knelt between your thighs. He knew he should have walked away, but he hadn’t. Eyes locked on the way Sihtric’s hands gripped your body, your hands in his hair.

Not a single thought had entered his mind until you’d called out to him.

“Are you going to watch or join in, baby monk?”

Osferth had almost choked on his breath, not a sound leaving him. You wanted him to join in? When he didn’t answer, Sihtric had chimed in.

“Come on, Osferth…I don’t mind sharing.”

Sihtric had looked at him over the top of your thigh. There was a look in his eyes that Osferth had only seen when the Dane had looked at a woman. It hadn’t taken much more for Osferth to walk into the room.

Your hand reached out for him immediately and Sihtric had buried himself back down between your thighs. Osferth had let you pull him down on to the bed, your lips immediately claiming his and letting him swallow your moans.

Clothes were shed quickly, Osferth’s hands finding purchase wherever he could reach as Sihtric brought you closer and closer to release. Osferth had let you untie his trousers, your hand sliding beneath the fabric and wrapping around his already hardening length.

Somewhere in that time, one of Sihtric’s hands had also found its way beneath Osferth’s robe. Your lips enough to distract the monk from the quick path it made, higher and higher.

The mix of your soft skin beneath his palms, your lips making their way down his neck and Sihtric’s rougher hand joining yours beneath his clothes. Wrapping themselves around his length, a sensation he would never forget.

Osferth couldn’t have been sure who was touching him and where. But the sounds of your moans filled his ears and there was little thought left in his mind other than you and Sihtric.

That memory was fresh in Osferth’s mind now. Especially with your and Sihtric’s promise earlier of a little post-hunt mischief and pleasure. The relationship between the three of you was comfortable now, settled into your roles. As was his nature, Sihtric was a little more dominating than Osferth – he was more confident than the young monk romantically and Osferth was more than happy to let the Dane take charge when necessary.

You were comfortably in the middle, all dependant on what your boys needed when you were together. After a battle? None of you really took charge, you just let instinct take you. After a night of drinking, your boys were more than happy to spoil you as they would tell you, you deserved.

Tonight, however, would be an entire mystery.

The crowd cheered again as Aethelstan was led towards the woods, you and the boys following closely behind. Uhtred began to explain the rules, ignoring how you and Finan would snicker as if forgetting your plan for mischief was supposed to be a secret.

The boar squealed in the distance, held by a fellow warrior with a thick stretch of rope.

To his credit, Aethelstan looked nervous. You viewed the younger Saxon as something of a brother, doing what you could to look out for him.

Except for today, of course. But was a hunt without a little danger?

“Are you ready, Aethelstan?” you smiled, squeezing his shoulder as he stared at the boar in front of him.

He said nothing and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way his eyes got wider the longer he stared. Part of you wanted to boost his morale, but Finan was quicker than you to speak up.

“Oh, it’s just a wee boar! As long as you don’t get on the sharp end of those tusks…you’ll be fine!” Finan smacked Aethelstan on the back and you swore he went grey.

“That thing is small!?” Aethelstan choked out and you couldn’t hide your laugh.

“You are a man, aren’t you, Aethelstan? You did promise Uhtred you were ready…”

You were already walking off before Aethelstan could respond, hopping onto Finan’s back as the two of you began to imitate the boar. Screeching and squealing, your hands mimicking the tusks as Finan ran around.

The two of you kept running, earning exasperated looks from your friends. But today was all about mischief, and if there was anyone who fuelled the chaos within…it was Finan.

The Irishman was like an older brother who preferred to indulge your bad decisions that advise you against them. Which made him a perfect partner in crime for this most chaotic of days.

The boar had been released and as the squealing began to fade into the shadow of the forest, Uhtred signalled for the hunt to begin. Aethelstan was pushed to the front, instructed to listen out for particular sounds. The crackling of twigs, broken under the panicked feet of a boar, for example.

Uhtred and Sihtric entered behind him first, splitting up and heading for the outskirts of the forest. Finan, Osferth and you were next. Being a little nimbler than the boys, you took to clambering into the trees and over moss covered rocks. You and Finan had already devised a little extra plan of your own – outside of the agreed mischief with Uhtred. Your lord had wanted you both to go easy, temper down your wild natures.

But you and Finan had other plans.

In the distance, as you climbed onto a thick branch of a nearby tree, you could hear Uhtred and Sihtric hollering out to Aethelstan. Goading him, distracting him from the sounds of the boar he hunted.

Osferth was there to follow Aethelstan, keeping an eye on his nephew and making sure nothing actually harmful happened to him.

You could see Finan in the distance, ducked behind a larger rock as you made your way over to the first cloth and rope ghoul. All you needed to do was wait for Aethelstan to pass your way.

Finan joined in with the shouting, calling out to get the young Prince to run in your direction. And when you saw the orange glow of his torch in the distance. Just a few more steps…

Your fingers were itching in anticipation. The plan was simple and yet it had rarely failed you in the past.

Another shout from Finan had Aethelstan coming directly into your path.

“Come on…” you whispered and when he was a few feet from your branch when you loosened the knots.

There was just enough darkness to have the swinging sheet force a shriek of fear from Aethelstan. His torch thrown from his grasp in his surprise. His weapon swinging wildly in front of him.

You stifled a laugh, taking careful steps down the branch and away and onto the next distraction.

You could still hear the shouts of your friends, the screeches of the boar. But you could no longer see the light of their torches. You had hopped down from your perch on a smaller tree and looked around.

After a few scans of your surroundings, you realised you couldn’t recognise this bit of the forest.

“Shit…” you mumbled, straining your ears to hear which direction the hunting party was in.

You could only hope one of the boys would notice you absence.

Sihtric and Osferth had met in the middle, laughing every time they saw what could only be one of your and Finan’s supposed distractions.

“It’s good Finan’s finally found someone willing to indulge his…carry-ons,” Osferth chuckled, passing another of the cloth ghouls as they saw Aethelstan run past them.

“Aye, they’re as bad as each other…” Sihtric mused, pushing the sheet out of the way as they walked on.

The two walked a little further in, and soon realised they hadn’t seen you for a while. They soon passed Uhtred, who simply shrugged and gave them the direction he’d last glimpsed you in.

Both of them ran towards his inclination and when you were nowhere to be found, a small flicker of panic set in. You weren’t incapable of looking after yourself, but it didn’t stop the desperate need to find you.

As was his way, Sihtric took the lead.

“I will go look for her, you stay closer to Aethelstan and the others, so I know where to run back to.”

Osferth nodded, gripping Sihtric by the arm. Sihtric could see the panic in Osferth’s eyes and decided to give him a distraction of his own.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, I’ll have our pretty girl back soon and you can have first look at our prize…” Sihtric’s fingers stroked at his jaw, tracing the sharp line before tugging him forward for a hurried kiss.

Osferth couldn’t say a word as Sihtric ran deeper into the forest, the hand that had been around Sihtric’s arm hung in the air. He watched for a few moments as his lover’s form disappeared into shadow before turning and heading back to the group.

All he had to do now, was wait.

You were just wandering now, the sounds of the hunt not seeming to get any closer. The woods outside Rumcofa weren’t dense in anyway, but they were well spread out. And now, every tree seemed to look the same.

With a sigh, you began to resign yourself to not getting back to Rumcofa before nightfall.

You sat down on the ground, leaning your back against a rock. Waiting.

And then you heard him. You’d know that voice anywhere.

Sihtric.

Calling out your name, coming closer and closer.

“Sihtric!” you called back, jumping up on the rock so he could see you.

The Dane broke into a run, crossing the distance between you in no time, a wide smile on his face. But when he reached you, you could see the slightest hint of something behind his eyes.

Like a predator who had caught its prey.

“They you are, pretty girl, you had us worried.” Sihtric smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you down to the ground with ease.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, toes just brushing the floor as he pressed his lips to yours.

“How could I be lost with a man like you looking for me?”

You could have sworn you heard Sihtric growl a little under his breath, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Someone has to keep you and our sweet monk in line, hmm? Keep you safe, protected and pleasured?”

That look in his eyes was back, and before you could say anything you felt yourself being lifted. Before you knew it, you could only see the leather of Sihtric’s armour covered back.

“What are you…?”

But you could barely speak as Sihtric span and took off running in the direction he had come from.

The predator surely had his prey, a successful hunt of his own.

Osferth couldn’t stay in the forest much longer, Finan, Uhtred and even Aethelstan were urging him to head back. He knew he should have dissuaded you from going off on your own. Or at least, he should have put a bit more effort into convincing you against it.

But he also knew Sihtric would bring you back.

He sat outside your house, the closest to the forest edge. Feet nervously tapping against the wood of the chair they rested on. And then he saw you both in the distance. You slung over Sihtric’s shoulder as he strode back into town.

“Osferth! I told you I would bring her back!”

Osferth wiped a hand over his face, as though trying to wipe the shock away. He walked down to meet Sihtric, a laugh leaving his lips as Sihtric’s hand landed with a smack to your backside.

“Better than any boar, I’d wager?” Sihtric continued and Osferth started to see where the Dane was going with this.

“Better and then some, and do I still get first look at our prize?” Osferth asked, walking around Sihtric and leaning to meet your face.

You narrowed your eyes a little, staring into Osferth’s bright blue orbs as he pretended to inspect you. He clicked his tongue, walking back around to stand in front of Sihtric, pressing a quick kiss to the Dane’s lips.

“You always know how to spoil me, Sihtric.” Osferth teased and he could see you wriggle a little in protest.

Sihtric laughed, holding you tighter as he walked ahead of Osferth and into your home. He didn’t put you down until he reached your bedroom. Unceremoniously throwing you onto your bed.

Your two boys stood before you, watching as you pushed your hair from your face.

“Alright, what is going on with you both?” you asked, moving to stand but letting out a breath of shock when Osferth gently pushed you back down.

“You had us worried, pretty girl.” Sihtric mused, stripping himself of his armour and placing it in a pile by your bed.

Osferth was already stripped on his armour pieces, left in only his lighter monk’s robe. He kept quiet, letting Sihtric take the lead until he found the right words.

Sihtric walked to stand behind Osferth. His hands starting on the monk’s shoulders before trailing a slow path down his chest before settling around his waist.

“You had our sweet boy especially worried; he was absolutely beside himself, weren’t you Osferth?”

Sihtric’s voice was smooth, sending a shiver down both of your spines. This was a side of Sihtric you both craved. The dominance, the primal edge to everything he did. And when Osferth didn’t answer, Sihtric gave his waist a squeeze.

“Use your words, Osferth. Tell our girl how worried you were…”

Osferth almost melted into Sihtric, his back pressed against his muscled chest. Sihtric’s face rested in the crook of his shoulder. His lips brushing against his ear as he spoke.”

“So worried, my love…” Osferth whispered, trying his best to ignore Sihtric’s fingers tracing patterns over his clothed stomach.

Sihtric gave him a gentle push, watching as you immediately let you legs spread to accommodate Osferth standing between them.

“What do you say you make it up to him, my darling?” he asked, keeping a hand on Osferth’s back while the other began to untie his robe.

Your body worked on instinct. Hands joining Sihtric’s to finish untying Osferth’s clothes. It wasn’t long before your monk was left in just a light shirt and his breeches. Your hands immediately dipped under his shirt, relishing at the way his eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of your palms on his skin.

Sihtric made quick work of removing the offending shirt, freeing Osferth’s lean body to your wandering hands.

“I am sorry for making you so worried, Osferth…I should have listened when you warned me,” you purred, leaning in a pressing a kiss to his stomach.

Your monk was usually like putty in your hands. Letting you and Sihtric take most of the control.

Maybe it was the hunt. Maybe the stories of Friday 13th held truth…but you saw a change in Osferth’s expression. His eyes darker, his shoulders squaring.

His hand came up, cupping your jaw and tilting your head to look at him.

“Yes, you should have. We were both worried about you, pretty girl…”

Oh, that name on Osferth’s tongue had a wave of desire shooting straight to your core. Hearing it from Sihtric was like pure, carnal lust. But from Osferth, it was sinful.

Sihtric smirked over the monk’s shoulder, looking down at your with eyes almost entirely eclipsed black with lust.

“Show her, Osferth, my sweet, sweet boy. Show her what you want in apology…”

This was where Sihtric shone. Commanding Osferth and you until the three of you were overcome with lust and desire.

Osferth was on you before you could speak. Long body pinning your to the fur covered bed below, hungry lips crashing to yours. Your hands instantly grasped at his shoulders, finding anything you could cling on to.

Sihtric made quick work of the rest of his own clothes, tossing behind him before joining you both on the bed. One of your hands immediately reached out for him, tugging him closer as his lips latched on to your neck and shoulders.

His hand trailed down Osferth’s back, pressing the monk’s body against yours and earning him a symphony of groans in return. His hand kept firm, setting a slow rhythm for Osferth’s hips as he began to grind against your core.

Your legs wrapped around Osferth’s waist, two sets of lips now devouring either side of your neck.

“Yes…” you sighed out as Osferth’s hips began to move faster and faster.

You could feel your release creeping up on you already, but you didn’t want to peak just yet. With a tight grip on Osferth’s shoulders, you pushed him back.

“Can I ride you, sweet boy? I know you like that?” you asked, feeling Sihtric smirk against your neck.

When it came to watching, this was Sihtric’s favourite position to see you and Osferth in. Watching your bodies move in synchronisation was almost always enough to have the Dane coming there and then.

Osferth responded by scrambling to lie down, the glimmer of dominance short lived in his need to have you.

The three of you shifted into position. Osferth laid out on his back, his cock hard and heavy in his breeches. You made quick work of the material, tugging it down a long with his boots. Your clothes followed, though you weren’t sure who took what item off.

But now you were a tangle of bare flesh. Osferth beneath you with Sihtric settled behind you.

“Ride him well, pretty girl, I think he’s earned it…” Sihtric growled into your ear, hands kneading at the swell of your breasts.

Your hips rolled slow at first, not enough to let Osferth’s cock slip inside. The monk’s hands were on your waist, helping you drag your slick cunt up and down his length.

“Oh, so good, my love,” Osferth side, his head already tilted and pressed into the pillow behind him. Eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He was always so responsive, you and Sihtric having spent the months of your relationship teaching him every kind of pleasure you knew. And he was more than willing to experience everything you two gave him.

“Gods, I love you both like this. You’re both so beautiful like this...” Sihtric mumbled, pressing his chest to your back as his lips latched on to your neck.

His hands continued to knead at your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingers. His own cock pressed hard against the curve of your behind, already leaking in anticipation of getting to feel you around him.

But for now, it was Osferth’s turn. Half of Sihtric’s pleasure came from watching the two of you find your own.

You could feel Osferth twitching beneath you, sticky ropes already leaking on to his skin. The room was thick with the heat and sweat of your shared passions, slick bodies sliding easily against each other.

One of your hands rested on Osferth’s stomach while the other tangled into Sihtric’s hair, tugging hard as pleasure crept up your spine.

“Oh..fuck…gods…” you moaned out as what you knew wouldn’t be your last orgasm of the night crashed over you.

Heavy pants from Osferth began to tell you he was close, but Sihtric was quick to stop your movements. There was another pleasure he knew, despite Osferth keeping shy about it, that the monk enjoyed just as much as a ride.

Your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock.

Strong arms tugged you back, the aftershocks of your release still making your muscles quiver.

“Do you want her mouth, Os? Spill all over that tongue?” Sihtric grunted, instinctively letting a hand wander down to his own cock for a few quick tugs.

Osferth nodded, “Yes, please, yes…”

Sihtric wrapped a hand around the back of the monk’s neck, leaning over you and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, and you could only wriggle out from between them to watch.

It was the best thing about your relationship, you wagered. No one ever went untouched, unloved or unsatisfied. And there was little you found more arousing than your two boys tangled in their own passions.

“My boys,” you whispered, teeth chewing at your lip.

Sihtric’s free hand found Osferth’s hot length, wrapping around him loosely and giving him a few gentle strokes. It didn’t take much to have the monk panting into his mouth, right at the edge when Sihtric stopped.

“Kneel in front of her, sweet boy,” Sihtric ordered, tugging Osferth’s lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

Osferth was quick to comply, chest heaving as you planted yourself on all fours in front of him. His hand threaded into your hair, a long, drawn-out groan leaving his throat as your mouth engulfed him inch by inch until you could take no more.

Sihtric’s hands dipped between your thighs, spreading your juices over your skin while his other hand brought the swollen head of his cock between your folds from behind. Your body arched perfectly between them as you hungrily sucked at Osferth’s cock.

“Oh, sweet girl, taking him so well…are you ready for more?” Sihtric’s hand ran down your back, forcing it to arch just a little more, presenting yourself for the taking.

You mumbled around Osferth’s cock, sending the most delicious of vibrations down his body. His hand tightened in your hair as Sihtric pushed between your folds, splitting your slick cunt open with a growl. In response, your body slid forward, taking more of Osferth’s cock down your throat.

The two men slowly found a rhythm, matching the thrusts of the other until they were working in a carnal tandem.

Osferth could feel the sparks of arousal through his manhood, twitching against your tongue. He locked eyes with Sihtric, knowing the Dane would want them to come together.

“Just a little longer, Osferth, I know you can do it, sweet boy.”

The monk groaned low but nodded. His hand reaching out for Sihtric and the Dane complied, pulling Osferth closer and locking their lips in a messy kiss.

Soon, you were clenching around Sihtric’s cock. Your second release making your eyes roll back into your head from the overstimulation.

Sihtric and Osferth stayed locked in their kiss, tongues fighting for dominance while Sihtric’s hand grasped at the flesh of your ass.

Your rhythm over Osferth’s length became sloppy, but you didn’t let his cock slip from your mouth. Your tongue licked a stripe up the vein underneath as you came, moaning their names in a tangled mess. Over and over again like a prayer.

“Good girl, and such a good boy…” Sihtric praised, pressing his forehead against Osferth’s as he felt the beginnings of his own release.

“Come Osferth, come for us…” Sihtric’s voice was low, rough, thick with barely restrained desire.

His thrusts were sloppy as he saw Osferth speed up. All rhythm was lost but none of you cared. All that mattered was pleasure and release. Osferth groaned out your names, slamming his hips into your waiting mouth one last time. Painting the flesh of your throat with his seed and sighing your name when he saw you swallow.

Sihtric followed not long after, the beginnings of his release hitting him like a hammer. He was just fast enough as he pulled out, spilling the rest of his pearly seed on to the dip between your back and backside.

“Oh gods…” he groaned, tugging himself until he was sure he was entirely spent.

Osferth had already collapsed on to the bed, the poor monk always crashed after your couplings. You were lay flat across Osferth, head buried in his sweaty chest as he stroked your hair.

Sihtric found a rag, cleaning your back before joining you both in a tangled embrace of sweaty limbs.

The room hung heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, but none of you would have it any other way. The silence was comfortable, until you let out a soft giggle.

“So, shall we celebrate Friday 13th every time?”

Your two lovers laughed along with you, sleep creeping up on the three of you. But you weren’t wrong.

Friday 13th might just become a new tradition for you.

TLK Taglist:

@legitalicat @foxyanon @thenameswinter99 @multyfangirl

@sylasthegrim @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @anjelicawrites

@whitedarkmoonflower

If you want to be added/deleted, please let me know.

#the last kingdom #the pretty boys #osferth #sihtric kjartansson #finan #uhtred of bebbanburg #pretty boys x reader #x reader #osferth smut #sihtric smut #finan x reader #uhtred x reader #tlk smut #the last kingdom smut #x reader smut #fan frankentober 2024

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scotianostra · 6 months ago

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May 17th is Norwegian Constitution Day or Syttende Mai as its known in Norway.

A wonderful spring holiday celebrated with red, white and blue ribbons, national costumes and waving of the Norwegian flag, the three colours are everywhere in Norway at this time of year.

It’s a day Norwegians all over the world take off to celebrate and marks the historic signing of the Constitution in 1814, the year Norway gained its independence from Sweden, which was fully realized in 1905.

In every city, town and village in Norway, children and adults alike express their cultural pride by marching to the bright music of school bands, celebrating the joy of springtime and honoring of those citizens who created Norway’s constitutional government, founding her independence.

Especially popular is the Children’s Procession that brings every child out in their best clothes or national costume.

In Edinburgh the Norwegian community celebrate Syttende Mai too.

Edinburgh’s celebrations include the Norwegian Scottish Society dinner, after a reception at the Norwegian Consulate’s residence.

Each year Norwegian students in Edinburgh hold a breakfast at Prestonfield House followed by a parade along Waterloo Place and onto Princes Street. At the boom of Edinburgh Castle’s One o’ clock gun, the pigeons fly and the parade begins!

Tonight expats and guests gather at The Royal Scots Club Abercromby Place for a celebration dinner held by the Norwegian Scottish Association. The association was founded in Edinburgh in 1966, and has enjoyed over 50 years of Norwegian-Scottish friendship.

Norwegian Scottish Association roots lie in a much older friendly society, one rooted in the shared experience of Norwegians and Scots during the Second World War. Founded in Dumfries in 1941, the Scottish Norwegian Society brought Scots and Norwegians together in difficult times. Having escaped the German occupation of their homeland in 1940, around a thousand Norwegians had come to be stationed at various times in Dumfries, and it was not long before the idea of a formal society was begun.

Of course our history with Norway goes back centuries, Northern Scotland, was, at one time, a Norse domain and the Northern Isles experienced the most long-lasting Norse influence. Almost half of the people on Shetland today have Viking ancestry, and around 30% of Orkney residents.

Many agree that there are many points of commonality between the Norse character and the Scottish one that leads to a sense of kinship between the two countries, even for those living much further south in Scotland, where Viking influence did not reach. Words like bairn and muckle made their way into Scot’s language via the Norwegians.

I touched upon the links during the second world war earlier and have posted before about the Shetland bus which provided a transport link between the Shetland Islands and occupied Norway. Many Norwegian refugees fled their occupied home with the help of Norwegian sailors who undertook daring, high-risk trips across the North Sea. The whole episode became emblematic of the friendship across the seas.

More recently Edinburgh’s Zoo also has a strong connection to Norway as it is home to a very special resident. Sir Nils Olav III is the mascot and colonel-in-chief of the Norwegian King’s Guard. The king penguin’s rank has been passed down through three generations since 1972. Knighted in 2008, he even received a military promotion in 2016 with the brigadier title bestowed upon him in a special ceremony at the zoo.

The Zoo’s link with Norway originated in 1913 when arctic explorer Roald Amundsen presented a penguin to them on their opening. Once a year the penguin inspects soldiers from Norway’s King’s Guard.

Edinburgh's Syttende mai parade – the 17th May or Norwegian Constitution Day parade traditionally takes place along the capital's main thoroughfare, Princes Street. At the boom of Edinburgh Castle's 'one o' clock gun', the pigeons fly and the parade begins!

Pics are from last ears parade.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #norway #my pics

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wholoveseggs · 7 months ago

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Crimson Frost {Part Two}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Two

After the raid on your village you are separated from your little sister and your betrothed Niklaus, not knowing if they are alive or dead. Holed up in a hut with Elijah during a raging snowstorm, you train and prepare to hunt down the Blackthornes. Meanwhile, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah have found safe haven in a nearby village, the leader Ansel provides all he can.

♡♡ Sorry for the wait on this one! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of death and violence, sprinkle of norse mythology... a little bit of smut in this part but I won't spoil who.

{Part One} {Part Three} {Part Four} {Part Five}

You woke to the sound of wind howling and the creaking of the roof beams, it was still dark and the fire had burned low, the chill was already creeping in.

You got up and went over to the window, looking out onto the white landscape, the snow was coming down fast, and you could barely see the tree line.

"Elijah," you nudged him awake, "the storm, it's bad."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching, "We won't be able to travel today." He said, moving to stoke the fire, "I'll go out and get more wood. We'll need it if we want to make it through the day."

He got dressed and grabbed his ax, "Stay here, I won't be long."

"I can help, we need food as well," you offered, grabbing your coat and boots.

"No, it's too dangerous, you could get lost, or worse," Elijah said.

"I'll be fine, I can handle myself," you argued, the memory of Einar's attack still fresh in your mind.

"It's not just about the danger, there's also the wolves, they'll be out hunting," Elijah explained, his tone serious.

"I am not a child anymore Elijah, you cannot boss me around, I can hunt and fight as well as any man," you huffed, crossing your arms.

"I know, I saw the way you fought off those raiders. You are a true warrior, worthy of the gods," Elijah smiled, his eyes shining with admiration.

"I'm also good at hunting rabbits," you said with a smile, picking up a old bow that was leaning against the wall.

Elijah sighed, you were stubborn like Niklaus, and he knew there was no point in arguing.

"Alright, but stay close, and keep an eye out for wolves, they're more cunning than you think," he warned.

"I can handle wolves," you smirked.

You bundled up and followed Elijah outside, the cold air nipping at your skin. You didn't go far before you found deer prints in the snow, they were fresh, and the tracks were deep.

"We're in luck, there's a herd nearby," Elijah whispered, "keep your bow ready, we'll try and take one down."

You nodded, following Elijah's lead. You stalked through the forest, your footsteps silent.

You saw a large stag ahead, his antlers standing tall and proud. He was beautiful and a part of you wished to leave it be, but you knew you had to feed the both of you.

Elijah made the signal and you let your arrow fly, it hit the stag in the neck, and he went down, the herd scattering.

The two of you spent the better part of the day tracking down and killing a couple of does and a few rabbits. It was hard work, but the thrill of the hunt and the success of a good kill made it worth it.

The snow was still falling, and you could see the storm was only getting worse. The game you hunted would last you a good while and you set to work preparing it, hanging the meat and skinning the hides.

Elijah worked beside you, helping you cut and dry the meat, his hands steady and sure. You were both silent, lost in your thoughts. You always wondered about Niklaus' mysterious older brother, the rest of the Mikaelson siblings you had grown up with, with the exception of Finn, who had always kept to himself. But Elijah was the enigma of the family. He was quiet and reserved, but there was a strength and determination in him, you could see it in his eyes.

You wondered why he had never married, why he was still alone. He was handsome and strong, any woman would be lucky to have him.

"Why haven't you taken a wife?" You blurted out, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah looked up, a small smile on his face, "Is that a question you ask everyone, or is it just me?"

You felt your face heat up, and you ducked your head, embarrassed, "Forgive me, I did not mean to offend."

"It's quite alright," Elijah chuckled, "I never found the right person, I suppose."

"You are a good man, any woman would be lucky to have you," you smiled, turning back to the venison you were cutting.

"Thank you, but I fear I am too boring for most women," Elijah laughed, his tone light and playful.

"Oh, I don't know about that, you seem quite interesting to me," you teased, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

"I am honored to have such a high opinion from you," Elijah smirked, his eyes shining with mischief.

You both finished the venison, and you hung the hides to dry, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping.

"We should go inside, the storm is getting worse," Elijah said, his brow furrowed in concern. "I worry our lovely horse may be a bit difficult to dig out in the morning."

You laughed and shook your head, "I'm sure she'll be just fine. She's a tough one."

The two of you walked back to the cabin, the wind whipping around you, the snow stinging your skin, you were freezing.

You hurried inside and started the fire, the warmth slowly returning to the small space. The wind was really howling outside, the trees swaying wildly, the sound of almost deafening.

"Do you think the others made it? Where would they have gone," you asked, unable to stop your mind from wandering.

"They'll be alright, they're smart and strong," Elijah reassured you, "they've probably made it to the neighboring village, the leader there knows my mother," he added, his voice quiet.

You could hear the worry in his voice, the unspoken fears, his siblings, your sister, were they safe, were they alive?

The two of you settled in for the night, the storm showing no signs of slowing. You huddled close to the fire, the blankets wrapped tightly around you, trying to keep warm. The cold had seeped into your bones, and Elijah noticed the way you trembled.

"Come here," he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close, his body pressed against yours.

You were stiff and hesitant, but the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace made you relax, the tension slowly melting away.

"It's not proper, us being this close," you whispered, your cheeks flushing.

"I'm not the one who has to worry about being proper," he joked, his breath tickling your ear, "besides, we're not doing anything wrong, just sharing our body heat,"

You giggled, his words easing your nerves, "I suppose you're right,"

The two of you sat like that for a while, the fire crackling and the wind howling, the sounds of the storm filling the room.

"When this storm breaks we should make for the coast," Elijah said, breaking the silence, his hand causally rubbing your arm, the heat of his touch causing strange sensations within you.

"Why not the village? Where the rest could be?" You asked, looking up at him, his face illuminated by the fire.

"The Blackthornes will take their thralls to the coast, to ship them off and sell them. They're brutal, but smart, they'll want to get rid of them as quickly as possible, before word gets out," Elijah explained, his voice grim.

"Gerda.. She's just a child," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes, the thought of your baby sister being sold like cattle making you sick.

"Henrik will protect her the best he can, he has a warriors heart," Elijah said, his voice cracking a bit at the thought of his baby brother. He was only ten summers and had barely learned to fight.

You nodded, the tears flowing freely now, "I- I can't lose them. I can't lose her,"

Elijah pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, his hands stroking your hair, "We'll find them, we'll save them. I swear it on the gods."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, the warmth of the fire and the closeness of his body providing a small measure of comfort. You feared that maybe you were the only two left alive, that everyone else had perished in the raid.

"What if we don't find them, what if we're too late," you whispered, your voice shaking, the weight of the situation weighing heavily on you.

"Then we will avenge them," Elijah said, his tone solemn, "we will make those bastards pay for what they've done."

You nodded, staring into the flames, the drums of war beating in your mind. You would fight until the last drop of blood, for your people, for your family.

In the following weeks Elijah took it upon himself to train you to fight.

The two of you trained every day, honing your skills and pushing each other to the limits.

Elijah was a relentless and patient teacher, never letting up, always demanding more. And you were a willing student, eager to learn, and determined to become stronger, faster, better.

You spent countless hours sparring, practicing defense, you had an affinity for wielding two axes, the blades swift and deadly in your hands.

The two of you were well suited as a fighting duo, your strengths complimenting each other, your weaknesses covering for the other.

"Keep your arms up, higher, good," Elijah encouraged as the two of you went through a series of drills, "now, again,"

The two of you circled each other, your axes ready. You lunged, swinging the axe, the blade narrowly missing Elijah's chest. He smiled and brought his shield up, blocking the blow, the sound of metal on wood echoing through the clearing.

"Better," he said, "you're quick, and you have the element of surprise on your side, but you must remember, no matter how good you are, there will always be someone better."

"Like you?" you smirked.

"Maybe a little," Elijah chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He stepped forward and swung his axe, the blade singing through the air, you ducked and rolled, coming up behind him to strike him. But he was faster, he flipped you on your back, the blade of his axe pressed against your throat, "Never underestimate your opponent,"

You looked up at him, his eyes locked on yours, his face flushed from the exercise, his breath hot against your skin, "I understand," you whispered, your pulse racing.

You thought about what his lips would feel like against yours, his body pressing you into the soft ground. You had to admit you had become more than attracted to him, he was strong, brave, and smart, he had a way of drawing you in, you had never quite experienced it before, not even with Niklaus.

You wondered if he felt the same, if he ever thought of you, of what it would be like to kiss you, to touch you.

"Do you?," he asked, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, the blade still pressed against your neck, "Yes, I do,"

"Good," he said, his voice a whisper, his eyes full of desire.

He stood and held out his hand, helping you to your feet. You both stood there for a moment, your bodies dangerously close, the tension between you growing thick.

You wanted him, and you could tell he wanted you too. But it was wrong, you were supposed to be his sister-in-law, it was forbidden, taboo.

You were still a maiden, promised to Niklaus. But you knew deep down you did not love him, not like Elijah. You didn't know why the gods cursed you with such feelings, with such a longing for the brother of the man you were promised to.

"Elijah, I-" You started, your voice shaky, the words dying on your tongue.

"Let's go inside, the air is too cold," Elijah said, his voice gentle.

"Y-yes," you nodded, following him inside.

Your heart was racing, your mind a mess, you couldn't believe the things you were feeling, the desires you had. It went against everything you had been taught, it was sinful, it was wrong.

And yet, you could not deny it. You were drawn to him, you longed for his touch, his kiss, his body pressed against yours. You wanted to do things with him that husband and wife do, forbidden things.

But the gods were watching, and they did not take kindly to those who disobeyed their laws. You could not give in to your desires, you had to remain strong, pure, chaste.

Still, you wondered if the gods had a plan for the two of you, if maybe they had destined you to be together. Maybe the gods wanted you to be happy, to have true love in your life.

You watched Elijah stoke the fire, cooking a rabbit over the flames, the scent of it making your stomach growl. You sat on the floor, your knees pulled to your chest, the blanket wrapped tightly around you, a barrier between the two of you.

"How did you know about this place?" You asked, referring to the cabin.

"My brothers and I built it years ago," he said, "We came here to get away, to have some time to ourselves. We would camp and hunt, it was our escape from... the pressures of being a son of a jarl," he added, a wistful smile on his face.

"I heard that Mikael could be a difficult man," you said, knowing that was an understatement.

Elijah didn't say anything, just handed you a piece of the cooked rabbit, his hand brushing against yours. You ate in silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound.

"He could be... cruel," Elijah said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes distant, like he was lost in a memory, "there are secrets in my family, things that no one speaks of,"

"Secrets?" You asked, your curiosity piqued.

"Things I cannot talk about," he said, his jaw set, his gaze dark.

You didn't want to press the matter, whatever the secrets were, they were clearly painful for him, you didn't want to force him to relive them.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, reaching out and placing your hand on his.

He looked at you, his expression softening, a sad smile playing on his lips, "It's okay, it's in the past now. What matters is the future, what we do to honor the ones we lost, to protect those who are still with us."

You nodded, his words resonating deep within you, "You're right, we must not dwell on the past, we must focus on the future, on those we love,"

Elijah smiled, his hand squeezing yours, "Yes, the future is all that matters,"

The two of you finished your meal, the silence no longer tense, but comfortable. You helped him clean up and prepare the space for the night, the storm finally letting up.

You got ready for bed, washing yourself in the basin and slipping into a simple linen tunic.

Elijah did the same, and you could not help but admire his body, his lean muscles, his skin smooth and tanned from the sun. You usually looked away, to give him privacy like he did for you, but you were drawn to him, your eyes taking in every inch of him.

He caught you looking and you quickly turned away, your face burning. He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"Sorry, I was just-" you mumbled, embarrassed.

"Goodnight, y/n. Come dawn we will start tracking the Blackthornes," he said, the playfulness in his voice gone, replaced by the hardened resolve of a warrior.

"Goodnight, Elijah," you replied, curling up on the pallet, the warmth of the fire lulling you to sleep.

The smell of herbs and spices filled the air as Tatia mixed some in a bowl, the healer humming quietly to herself. The young woman was a skilled healer and well-respected in her village.

"There, this should help ease your pain," Tatia smiled at Rebekah, handing her the bowl, the liquid inside warm and soothing.

"Thank you," Rebekah smiled weakly, bringing the bowl to her lips. She winced as she drank, the scar on her face throbbing with pain.

"Careful now," Tatia said softly, "that elixir is strong. You'll want to go slow and make sure you're keeping it down,"

Rebekah nodded and drank slower, the warmth of the brew filling her body and dulling the pain.

Niklaus sat beside Kol, who was sleeping on a cot in the healer's hut, his body bruised and battered from the fight with the Blackthorne raiders. Tatia's eyes met Niklaus', he couldn't help but feel a tingle of warmth spread across his body as he watched the healer's eyes linger on his, there was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel seen, appreciated, as if she could see his pain and anger.

Tatia smiled gently and reached out to touch Niklaus' hand, the simple gesture making his breath catch in his throat, "you have the strength of Odin," she whispered, her voice like a song, "you saved them both from those brutes,"

Niklaus looked up at the woman, her face beautiful, her eyes kind and understanding.

"I-" Niklaus stammered, "I had to, they are my family." He had never felt so at a loss for words before, and he struggled to find the words to describe the pain he was feeling.

"Let me take a look at you," Tatia said gently, "you look like you could use a healing touch yourself,"

Niklaus hesitated, still overwhelmed by the woman's closeness and the connection he felt. Tatia sensed his unease and took his hand, her skin warm against his. "You must be at your full strength for the war to come." She smiled at him and he found himself smiling back, despite the ache in his body.

Tatia motioned for Niklaus to lay down, she pulled up his tunic, taking a look at the wound on his side, the flesh raw and bruised, "It's not too bad," she said softly, her hands gentle as they cleaned and bandaged the wound, "it will become just another scar for you to boast to your wife about," she teased. Niklaus couldn't help but chuckle at her words, a feeling of warmth spreading through him at her touch.

He felt a wave of guilt at the thought of you, his future wife. He wondered how you were doing, if you were safe, if he would ever see you again. Tatia must have sensed his worry, she looked up at him, her eyes soft. "She is strong and fierce, and I am certain she will come back to you,"

Niklaus swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. He prayed that Elijah had saved you, that the two of you were somewhere safe, weathering the storm together.

He sighed and nodded, "I know, but it doesn't stop the worry and pain from eating away at me."

"I understand," Tatia said, her fingers tracing along Niklaus' jaw, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through his body, "the bond of family is strong and often the most painful."

Tatia continued her work, cleaning and tending to Niklaus' wounds, the gentle touch of her hands making him feel safe and protected.

"You should speak to our leader, Ansel, when you're feeling better," Tatia said after she finished, "I know he will be interested in meeting you. He will want to hear your story and your plans."

Niklaus nodded, he couldn't help but notice how the young healer's eyes lingered on him as she spoke. "I will, thank you Tatia, you have been more than kind," he said.

"Of course," Tatia said, giving Niklaus one last smile, "you're a special guest here. I knew your mother quite well,"

Tatia's words took Niklaus by surprise, "You did?"

"Aye," Tatia nodded, suddenly avoiding Niklaus gaze, she stood and went to check on Rebekah who had fallen asleep in a chair, the pain of the healing draught helping her rest.

Niklaus stared at her for a moment, wanting to ask more, but deciding to let it go. The young healer was right, he was here on important business, he couldn't afford to let his emotions get in the way. He had to be focused and clear-headed if he was to get his revenge on the Blackthornes. He would need the support of Ansel and his men if he were to succeed.

Kol began to stir, he slowly opened his eyes, groaning with pain as he tried to sit up.

"Careful, Kol," Tatia said softly, placing her hand gently on Kol's arm, "you need to rest,"

"What happened?" Kol said, his voice raspy, he looked around the room, his gaze falling on Rebekah, who was asleep on the chair near the fire, "where Niklaus?"

"I'm here, little brother," Niklaus said, coming to sit by the edge of the bed, "how do you feel?"

"I've been better," Kol chuckled weakly, "I feel like a herd of wild boars trampled over me," he shifted in the bed and winced, Tatia moved quickly to help him get comfortable, the young man gritting his teeth through the pain.

"Try not to move too much, Kol," Tatia said softly, her gaze lingering on him, "your wounds are still fresh."

"Aye," Kol breathed out, the young man's face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, his brow furrowed in pain, "how long have I been out?"

"Two days," Niklaus said, his voice low, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he thought of you, his future bride. He wondered where you were, if you were safe, if Elijah had found you.

"Where is y/n? Elijah?" Kol asked, his voice strained, his eyes filled with worry.

"I don't know," Niklaus said, his voice hoarse, his throat thick with emotion. He swallowed hard and rubbed his temples, the pain of his injuries and his worry for you, his brother, and sister, weighing heavy on him.

Tatia placed a cool cloth on Kol's head, her touch gentle, soothing, "have faith," she whispered, "the gods have not forsaken them."

"Aye," Niklaus said, his gaze fixed on the flames of the hearth, "I must go speak with Ansel,"

Tatia nodded and Niklaus stood, his body aching, his heart heavy. He walked out into the village, the storm having passed, the skies clear and blue.

The villagers were busy repairing their homes, patching roofs and fixing doors, the sounds of axes chopping wood and the shouts of men filling the air. He headed towards the longhouse, his heart racing, he felt a knot in his stomach as he thought of what he was about to do.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar smells of the hall greeting him, ale, meat, and smoke. But it wasn't the same, there was a heaviness to the air, a sadness that he couldn't shake.

Ansel sat at the table, he was sharpening his sword, his expression hard, the man's eyes dark with anger and grief. He looked up as Niklaus approached, his gaze fixed on him, a hint of surprise in his face, "Niklaus Mikaelson, the gods have truly blessed me today," he stood and gripped Niklaus' arm in a warrior's greeting, "I'm sorry for the loss of your loved ones, I knew your mother well. May she rest with the gods in Valhalla,"

"Thank you, Jarl Ansel, it is an honor to meet you," Niklaus said, returning the grip, the man's strength taking him by surprise, "and the gods are merciful. They brought me here, to your village."

Ansel smiled and gestured for him to sit, the older man poured two cups of ale and handed one to Niklaus, "To the gods," he said, raising his cup.

"To the gods," Niklaus repeated, his gaze fixed on the man before him.

"My scouts have informed me that the Blackthornes have been raiding across the land," Ansel said, his voice low, "rounding up our young to sell into slavery."

Niklaus gripped his cup tighter, his knuckles white, "Aye," he nodded, "they took my little brother Henrik and my near sister-in-law Gerda,"

"They are foul creatures," Ansel spat, "they have no honor, no respect for the old ways."

"That's why I've come to you," Niklaus said, his voice firm, "I've come to seek your help in finding them, in saving the people they have taken."

Ansel gave him a sympathetic look, "You have my sympathies, but I cannot take on the Blackthornes," he shook his head, his jaw set, "I need my men here to protect my people,"

Niklaus swallowed hard, he had expected this answer, he felt rage bubbling within him, "I will not stand idly by while those bastards take more people from their families,"

Ansel's expression hardened, "it is the will of the gods, we must accept it,"

"No," Niklaus shook his head, his anger rising, "I will not accept that." He stood, his fists clenched, his heart racing, "I will not accept the gods abandoning us. I will not accept that they have given up on us,"

"Niklaus," Ansel warned, "I am your elder, and the Jarl of this village. You will show me the respect I deserve,"

"Respect?" Niklaus spat, his face twisted with anger, "you're nothing but a coward. You're content to sit here, in your hall, surrounded by your men. But you won't go out and fight."

"It's more complicated than that son," Ansel said, his voice steady, his eyes cold.

"Don't call me son," Niklaus growled, "you're not my father, you're nothing to me."

Ansel chuckled and shook his head, "You remind me so much of your mother. She was just as stubborn and foolish,"

Niklaus took a deep breath, calming himself, he wanted to strike at Ansel. But he thought of Rebekah and Kol, they needed him, he couldn't afford to lose control, not now, not when he was so close to getting the help he needed.

"If you will not help me," Niklaus said, his voice low and dangerous, "then I will find the Blackthornes myself,"

Ansel sighed and rubbed his temples, his jaw set, his expression grim, "I will give you any supplies you may need, and you and your family are welcome to stay here, as long as you need."

Niklaus clenched his fists, he was torn between wanting to accept the man's offer and wanting to strike him down, to make him feel the pain of losing someone.

"I appreciate the offer," Niklaus said, his voice strained, "I wish you could do more for me, but I will take what I can get."

"The gods are not always clear in their will, Niklaus," Ansel said, his voice low and steady, "but I have my people to look out for. Perhaps you will be a Jarl one day, and then you will understand,"

"Perhaps," Niklaus said, the man's words ringing in his head, he turned and left the hall, the anger inside him simmering.

He needed to find you, to find Elijah, to save Henrik and Gerda. Every god there ever was could stand against him for all be cared, he would drag his broken body through the gates of the underworld to save those he loved.

Tatia insisted that Niklaus heal before setting out to find the Blackthornes. She cared for him and his family, ensuring that they had everything they needed.

She took a keen interest in him, her eyes following him, her gaze lingering on him, her touch sending jolts of warmth through his body.

The night before he set off, he sat in her hut, nursing a cup of ale, lost in his thoughts. Tatia hummed softly has she shaved the sides of his head, the young woman's hands deft and sure, the only sounds were the blade and the crackle of the fire.

"Where will you go in search for them?" Tatia asked, her voice low, as she ran the blade along his scalp.

"The coast, I've heard rumors that the Blackthornes are selling slaves in the fishing market there,"

Tatia nodded, "it's a dangerous place, and not a good fate for any young child,"

"I have to try," Niklaus said, his voice heavy with emotion, his throat tight, his chest aching, the pain of losing his parents and brother still raw, the grief weighing on him.

"Of course," Tatia whispered, her voice like a song, her hands gentle as she ran them over his head, checking for any missed patches of hair. She braided the long strip of hair that remained on top, her touch gentle, comforting, "the gods will guide you, Niklaus."

Niklaus nodded, her words echoing in his head. He had always been a devout man, believing in the will of the gods, but lately, he felt lost, adrift, as if the gods had abandoned him, his family, his village.

"Why did the gods allow the Blackthornes to destroy my village?" He whispered, his voice hoarse, the pain and rage within him threatening to overwhelm him, "why did they let my parents die?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, Niklaus," Tatia said, her voice soft, understanding, "they are not always clear in their will, we must trust them, and have faith that they have a plan."

She finished braiding, her hands sliding over his shoulders, the touch making his heart race. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his mind swirling, his emotions churning. The young healer had a calming effect on him, the tension leaving his body, the rage and pain subsiding, at least for a moment.

She kissed the side of his head, her lips soft, warm, her scent intoxicating, a mixture of herbs and spices. She sat beside him, her hand on his arm, her eyes filled with concern, "You should rest," she said softly, "you have a long journey ahead of you."

Niklaus looked into her dark eyes, she was a singular beauty, one that he could easily lose himself in. He had felt a connection with her since the first moment he saw her, his soul calling out to her, begging him to surrender, to lose himself in her. But he knew he couldn't, he had made a promise, he had a duty to fulfill, he was to marry you.

But you could be dead, his mind whispered. And even if you weren't, there were no guarantees that he would find you, or that you would survive the journey.

And he could die, tomorrow or the next day, on the road, at the hands of the Blackthornes. The world was a dangerous place, and death was always around the corner.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his heart hammering in his chest. He pressed his lips against hers, his hands cupping her face, the kiss deepening, the two of them melting into each other.

Niklaus felt a surge of lust, his body aching for her, the desire coursing through him, his mind spinning. He knew this was wrong, that he was betraying you, his future wife, but in this moment, he didn't care. All he wanted was her.

He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes burning into hers. His hands went to her waist, lifting her onto his lap, his cock hardening, pressing against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him, her lips warm and soft.

She rocked her hips against his, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh, his need for her overwhelming him.

"Lay with me, before I ride off to Valhalla," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes filled with desire. Her hand trailing down his chest, his body tensing at her touch, his blood burning for her.

He picked her up and carried her to her bed, the two of them falling onto the soft furs. Their bodies entwined, the passion and heat between them consuming them.

The guilt and shame Niklaus had felt earlier disappeared as Tatia moaned beneath him, her skin slick with sweat, her body quivering as he brought her to climax.

He kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers, the taste of her, the feeling of her body, soft and yielding, thoughts of you long forgotten.

{Part One} {Part Three} {Part Four} {Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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misscoolisback123 · 3 months ago

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Things I Find Wrong With Lore Olympus

1. Minthe

I'm just gonna address the elephant in the room when it comes to the webtoon with this one, so don't come bitching at me. When I first started reading LO, I was puzzled that Hades and Minthe were dating in the beginning, but since this was a retelling of Hades and Persephone and Greek mythology all together, I didn't think much of it. When I researched stories and articles about Hades and Persephone, she's not that big of a deal. Yes, she seduced Hades and was turned into a mint plant by Persephone, but that's just it. She's a minor nymph in Greek mythology. Someone on the unpopularloreolympus subreddit said that Rachel Smythe got offended by the Hercules cartoon series in which Hades and Persephone are father and daughter. It's most likely that she got offended by Hades and his affair with Minthe, and so she created a punching bag of a character. Not only that, but her skin tone is red because red is evil to her, yet Hermes is red. I'm not saying she has to be any shade of green but make it make sense!

2. Leuce

Like Minthe, she was created to be a punching bag character for the fandom. Not only is she not canon to Greek mythology, but she didn't exist until the 1500s by an Italian poet. Rachel probably got offended by this as well and did the same thing with her.

3. Misuse of Allusions

What is an allusion? The simplest answer is that it's a figure of speech that makes a reference to literature, people, places, characters, etc. An example of this is from the ABC show Once Upon a Time. Zelena The Wicked Witch of West basically became Persephone she and Hades fell in love. A couple of other examples of allusions of mythology are Naruto and Attack on Titan. Naruto uses Japanese mythology for their power ups and other things. Attack on Titan uses Norse mythology to explain the founding Titan Ymir. Lore Olympus, however, does this very poorly. It might just be a minor detail, but the biggest offense of this is Hera.

I was shocked when I saw that Hades and Hera had once been a thing and were madly in love. Then Echo came along, and Narcissus was nowhere in sight. Basically, Hera replaced Leuce and Narcissus. Leuce replaced Minthe. Morpheus was depicted as a woman or a poor depiction of transgenderism. The founding titan Ymir Fritz was an allusion of Ymir from Norse mythology. Ymir from Norse mythology was the creation God. Ymir Fritz was a little girl who died as a woman. Her three daughters are based on Odin and his two brothers. Ymir from Norse mythology was male. Morpheus from Greek mythology was male. If you're going to make a comic on mythology, then you should get the details of gods and goddess right.

4. Erasure of Sexuality

Lore Olympus was first posted onto Webtoon in 2018. This was during a time when writers of movies, TV shows, series, cartoons, and anime were turning canonically straight and asexual characters gay and lesbian. There was also a very biphobic and transphobic edge to it as well. This was done in order for the creator to appear progressive. This was done to Athena, Hestia, Hera, Echo, and Morpheus. Athena and Hestia are both asexual in Greek mythology, and Hera is straight. Again, Morpheus was male. Echo is also straight as she was madly in love with a man who was madly in love with himself. Athena and Morpheus are both poor representations of transgenderism. Especially Morpheus. They're not trans but the fact that their genders were changed is saying something.

5. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss

Lore Olympus claims to be feminist but it's not. Others have explained this in great detail. Persephone before she was married to Hades was actually a much different person. She had her own goals and aspirations. She didn't want to be known as a nepo baby. She was trying to find her own identity. She even begged Hades not to gouge out Alex's eye, but Hades went through with it. But then she started dating Hades, and things went downhill for both of them. Yes, they are the healthiest couple in Greek mythology, but Lore Olympus doesn't depict it as such.

Hades basically became an abusive slave owner, and Persephone became an immature girlboss. When she ran into Alex at the mall and intimated him, she looked as if she would wait until his shift was over to stalk him, corner him, and beat him up. The same with Leuce.

6. Rooting for the wrong characters

From the beginning, readers are led to believe that Minthe is the antagonist. At least one of them. But then Persephone changed drastically for the worst, and soon, people found themselves rooting for her.

7. No other retellings of Greek mythology

Lore Olympus was advertised as being about Hades and Persephone. But the title alone sounded as if it was going to be about others' myths as well. The only retelling of mythology was Eros and Psyche. This is due to Hades and Persephone being a part of their myth. But both myths were dragged for far too long. Psyche revealing that she was turned into a nymph by Aphrodite didn't feel exciting. The same goes for Gaia telling Hades and Persephone that Persephone has to spend six months out of the year with her mother for spring and summer and with Hades during fall and winter. Both of these plots could've been easily wrapped up in season, and seasons 2 and 3 could have been about other myths.

#rant post #anti lo #lore olympus critical

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babysfirstpentagram · 5 months ago

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A Few Witchy Ways to Witch Up Your Wedding.

Are you a witch? Are you getting married? Do you want to honor your practice in your wedding with or without pissing off your extremely religious in-laws? Then please stay tuned!

There are many ways to incorporate your beliefs and practice into your wedding, and many ways to alter the ritual to either appease or hide it from those who may not agree with your practice. There are many cultural practices you can follow (just make sure you are researching closed practices and stick only to the ones you can follow), and many ways to include your gods and goddesses to your wedding with little to no speculation. Unless, you want people to know, then I will make sure to write about those as well.

Number One: A Handfastening.

What is a hand fastening? A hand fastening is when you intertwine three pieces of rope into a braid across your hand and your partner's hand. It is typically found in traditional Celtic Pagan weddings, however many religions are now adopting this practice to add it to their own weddings. It doesn't have to just be a Pagan wedding, as I have seen Christians do it and use God/Jesus as the center rope and themselves as the other two ropes. You may choose to use a deity you worship to be the center rope, you can simply dedicate the center rope as your life or your love for one another wrapping around the two of you. The possibilities are endless and it is an easy and very down-low practice to do. To add a little more magic to it, braid your own cords and add protection charms with your fiance. It not only makes the cord more meaningful, but it is a bonding experience and you get to put all the love and happiness you feel for each other into making it.

Number Two: Crystals.

Crystals are cool, they look like shiny rocks, and most people wouldn't look twice if there are a few crystals on the tables or in your flowers. I will be giving everyone in my bridal party selenite (to protect and cleanse) and rose quartz (to bring in love). This is a cute idea and you can even do a ritual before you go out to calm your nerves with quartz and amethyst.

Number Three: Veils

Veils were used in ancient times to confuse spirits and to protect the bride from spirits that wanted to take her. This is a very easy way to add a layer of magic to the wedding, as you can enchant the veil to repel negativity and harm. Also, veils are so widely used these days that people would be considered crazy if they questioned why you were wearing a veil.

Number Four: Set up a Wedding Altar

A wedding altar can be as simple as the table you set up for the guest to sign the guest book. Add pictures of you and your fiance, pictures of married couples in your family that have passed, crystals, candles, the works. People will simply think you have a very nicely decorated table for the guests. You can also add small tokens of your deities to the table to tie it into the over all theme or to just add a pop of color. I am having a slightly Tangled themed wedding so I will be adding little suns to the table for Apollo!

Number Five: Spell Satchels

You can make a small spell satchel to wear under your dress for protections and love. Rose petals, rose quartz, rosemary, bay leaves with intentions writen on them, and pink salt would be good to add. You can tie it to your garter (if wearing one/wearing a dress) or put it in your suit pocket. They are small enough to not even be noticed by others.

Number Six: Exchanging of Swords

The exchanging of swords was very big in Norse Weddings. To sum it up, the Groom and Bride exchange swords to vow to protect each other until and past death. Another wedding tradition is to gift the Bride with a kitten to promote protection and to help catch mice and rats. I, personally, don't think this practice should ever go away.

Number Seven: Go barefoot.

Connect to the Earth as you walk down the aisle. Feel the ground and let it center and ground you to the moment.

These are just a few ways you can connect your practice to your wedding. If this blows up enough, I may make a part two! I will also be starting reguluar updates about my own wedding and how I am witching it up! Stay tuned and drink water!

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #witches #witchy #pagan #cottagemagic #witchy wedding #wedding traditions #wedding

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theofreakingbell · 8 days ago

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LWML fans who saw my other post, I GOT THE BOOK

it is in shockingly good shape for being so old. the pages feel sturdier than some modern paperbacks. It belonged to someone named Mildred in 1893 (inscrbed). thanks for the book, ma'am.

it also has a sticker indicating it was sold in Australia at some point before ending up back in England (and then on to me in California)

my theory was partly right and partly not. While the book is deeply mistaken about many things it was actually very mixed about Loki, there is no one central page calling him evil. I find it super interesting they chose to include the Loka Tattur, a Faroese story where he is very kind, and theorise about why he may have been seen differently over time. there IS one page that makes him sound like a ticking time bomb though which I have included below as I think it resembles the book the most, in addition to a few other interesting sections about Loki that I found in the book, true or not.

there's random lil illunstrations of birds and stuff throughout to decorate the pages it's adorable. illustrations in general are very cool, however this is not a good norse mythos book overall and author is WAY too happy veering into race science at random and using the word Aryan and stuff, so please do not use this book as a source. lol

EXCERPTS AND IMAGES BELOW

From the gods profiles section

Loki, the father of terrible Hel, the Fenris-Wolf and Midgard-Snake; Loki, the crafty god who is ever devising evil, now steals forward that we may observe his corrupt practices and his real character. In primeval times he was Odin's brother by blood, the god of life-giving warmth, and in particular of the indispensable household fire. As a destructive conflagration arises from a hidden spark which gradually increases in strength and volume, until at last it bursts out furiously and consumes the house and all that it contains, thus, as we shall show later on, the conception of Loki was developed in the minds of these old races, until he was at last held to be the corrupter of the gods, the principle of evil."

From a section on the different mythological races

"The first divine trilogy given us was that of the sons of Bör, ie.

Odin, Wili and We; and these correspond to the elements, air, water and fire. The last of the three gave the newly created human beings blood and blooming complexion; he was therefore a beneficent god. Nevertheless he was also represented as a giant in the trilogy Kari, Ögir, and Logi, another form of air, sea and fire. That he belonged to the race of giants is proved from further evidence, by which it appears that his father was the giant Far-bauti (oarsman), and his mother the giantess Laufey (leafy isle), the former of whom was perhaps the giant who saved himself from the flood in a boat, and the latter, the island to which he rowed.

At the beginning Loki was a helpful and a great god, as the pretty Faroe-island song of the Peasant and the Giant shows. He was not regarded as the principle of evil, until he had been completely separated from the element to which he belonged, and had been developed into an independent personality. The idea of the destructive power of fire was equally connected with the giant Muspel, but he never showed himself as an active agent of harm.

His sons, the flames, alone threatened evil in Glow-heim or Muspel-heim, and finally mustered in great force for the Last Battle on the field of Wigrid."

Musings and biography after the Loka Tattur

"The above story is still told on the Faroe Islands, and in fuller detail than we have been enabled to give it. It shows us an important fact, that Loki was not always looked upon as the principle of evil, as the enemy of gods and men.

Originally he was the god of the indispensable household fire, the god of the beneficent, kindly hearth; therefore he regularly appears in the trinity: thus the sons of the primeval giant Ymir were called Kari (air), Ogir or Her (water), and Logi (fire); and similarly on the creation of mankind the trinity appears, Odin, Hönir and Lodur. Loki also accompanied Odin and Hönir on their travels to the giant Thiassi.

The father of Loki was Farbauti and his mother was Laufey (leafy isle). The former was probably the same as Bergel-mir, the giant who escaped drowning in the Deluge by taking refuge in a boat, as another name for his mother was Nal, ship. Logi, the element of fire, was distinctly separated from Loki, for we saw that when in the balls of Skyrnir or Utgard Loki, the two were rivals in a wager as to which could consume the greater quantity of food in a given time. At first Loki was held in high honour as the giver of warmth and god of the domestic hearth, and was looked upon as the brother of Odin and Hönir, for the elements air, water and fire are intimately connected. He therefore belonged to the Ases, sat in their council, and often helped them out of difficulties by means of his cunning. As fire is not always the friend of man, but is also the element of destruction, the Loki of the myth developed ever more and more the dark side of his character. He showed himself as a cunning adviser, a false, traitorous comrade, and lastly as the murderer of all that was pure and holy. He destroyed innocence and righteousness, became the blasphemer of the Ases or their evil conscience; and although he received immediate punishment for his wickedness, he yet succeeded in bringing about the universal destruction.

The name Loki has been derived from the old word "liuhan," to enlighten. It therefore has the same origin as the Latin lux, light. Thus he was also related to Lucifer (light-bringer), a title of honour which was given to the Prince of Darkness. In like manner as the northern tempter was chained to a sharp rock, Lucifer was believed in the middle ages to be chained down in hell. Saxo Grammaticus describes his Utgarthlocus (Utgard-Loki as laden with chains in Helheim, which proves that the myth of Loki and his punishment was believed long after the Christian era.

As has been said before, Loki had three wicked children by the giantess Angurboda (bringer of anguish), Fenris, Hel and Jörmungander. But he also had a lawful wife, the faithful Sigyn, who brought him two sons, Wali and Narwi, and who remained with him during all the misery his punishment brought upon him. He had no servants or subjects, for the Salamanders or Fire-spirits which played a part in Roman and Oriental mythology were unknown in the north. But he had other mighty relations, namely Surtur of the Flaming Sword and the sons of Muspel, who helped him in the Last Battle when he had got rid of his bonds. The Dwarfs and Black-Elves that needed fire for their labours were in alliance with him, but were not subservient to him; indeed, as we have already seen, they were often his enemies.

Apologies for any errors, I am very sensorily disabled and was unable to read the book in full or take more pictures. But yeah here is a book that would have existed for Theo and Loki to read!

(the entire book is also available for free as a pdf if u want to look at it on archive.org here. again, do not use as a source lol given the problems but it was fun to look at)

#loki where mischief lies #lwml #norse mythology #my lwml posts #blurb

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jellyfishvibes · 6 months ago

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Khdr Keyblade thoughts So, as we know, dr characters are based on norse gods and i'm assume they keyblade they all wield is like starlight in that its a training keyblade that is a keychain given and not 'their' keyblade so based on said norse mythology dr character keyblade names/ideas

Odin - Odins named weapon is Gungnir, a spear that had runes carved into its tip, made by dwarves known as the Sons of Ivaldi

Xehanort - This man is not norse Eraqus - Neither is this guy

Hermod - Hermod has very little about him in the mythology that i found, he is a messenger and rides down to Hel and back to try and revive Baldr? He is given two rings a cloak to give to other people on that trip? got a theme of 9 going on with ring for 9 days to get to Hel and being given a ring that duplicates itself every 9 days making 8 new identical copies of itself, idk not alot here

Urd - One of the three Norns, specifically the one of the past, i would love to see a matching keyblade trio for these three (Skuld being the future and the one of the present usually being anglicized as Verdandi, and i don't think she has appeared yet) Strings of fate and weaving themes are big for all three along with the world tree Yggdrasil, but Urd specifically has a big connection to the well they water the tree with and live near, as its called the Well of Urd

Vor - From my quick research she might be the same as a valkyrie Geiravor who wields a spear but also has the winged horse imagery you could draw on, also i have found her name might mean oath and has associations with oaths and contracts, so something similar to oathkeeper maybe? something like Oathbreaker?

Bragi - (you know, before the plot happened) Is the god of poetry and also possibly music? also he has a rune on his tongue? he is characterized as the court poet of the aesir and something poetry based would fit, maybe in the form of a kenning as there is a dialogue where he explains them, you could also pull from the blood of Kvasir which is said to be the 'mead of poetry', also a great place to put a poetic irony name

Baldr - A Vala predicts his death, Vali's birth and the killing of Hoder and Frigg crying as a result, He has bad dreams and Odin goes to Hel to talk to a Vala about it, he forces her tell him who kills Baldr, who will avenge him and who will weep for him, He is given Draupnir (The ring that duplicates) on his funeral pire and Odin whispered something in his ear before hes pushed out to sea, a majority of him in the mythology is just about that one time he died, the easy target is something mistletoe themed but i am leaning more towards the 'everyone needed to weep to bring him back' theming, maybe with the 9 rings idk, the only name ideas i have are something along the lines of whispers or secrets to allude to the Odin secret thing, Murmured Mystery or something like that? (Fun fact his heartless is called Hringhorn, which is the name of Baldrs ship in mythology, making the final boss turns into a boat theme in Xehanorts life originate from Baldr)

Heimdall - Gjallarhorn is the horn that heralds the beginning of ragnarok and Gulltoppr is his golden mained horse, He is the protector of the Bifrost and has foresight and keen senses, notably his eyesight and hearing, there is a theory that Gjallarhorn could be translated as 'horn of the river Gjoll' a river that seperates the living and the dead, and also that the poem telling of where the horn is my not be referring to it but to Heimdall's hearing which may mean there could be a mirror between him and Odin, as Odin leaves his eye in Mimir's well for knowledge, Heimdall may have left his ear there, he is ripe for a foresight-didn't see his death coming poetic irony name and beyond that the god is very associated with gold so probably a good aspect to design with

Helgi - Helgi is a hero in mythology who falls in love with and marrys a valkyrie, Sigrun, due to slaying Hunding he gets the moniker 'Hunding's bane', he is killed by Sigrun's brother and there is a story after his death where he appears one night ontop of his burial mound to Sigrun, His hair covered with frost, his body covered with blood and his hands are wet, which he explains are becuase of all the tears she has shed for him, they spend the night together and he has to leave in the morning, she spend the rest of her life waiting for him again, which i latch onto cause a frost themed weapon for him would be a really cool contrast to his very classic norse hero design, also more easy valkyrie imagery to pull from aswell, having some thematic kind of match between his and Sigurn's keyblades would be cool

Hoder - The blind god who accidentally killed Baldr with something made of mistletoe (its said Loki made the mistletoe int a spear but Hoder shoots it like is an arrow so???), so also easy mistltoe imagery, he is also killed by Vali to avenge Baldr, depending on the version Hoder is either completely innocent and tricked into it by Loki or much less innocent and more active in the murder, one of the lines of translated poetry i latched onto was His hands he washed not, his hair he combed not, Till he bore to the bale-blaze Baldr's foe. A keyblade name along the lines of blood on hands/unable to wash away the sin would fit kh Hoder, or even a subversion of Destiny's Embrace, as she is kinda stuck in the fate of both her and her brothers death but goes along with it (she swung first) something like Cradle of Fate, or Destiny's Grasp, something that leans a little more negative (*Hoder and Kairi parallels in here about being tangled in fate and have destinys entwined with death, The Kai in Kairi means death after all)

Sigrun - Sigrun is a Valkyrie, she first meets Helgi when leading 9 other Valkyrie, his story happens, her brother tells him of what he did to Helgi and she curses him, forcing him to live in the woods and survive of carrion and she dies early of sadness and is reborn again as a Valkyrie, Her name aslo apparently means Victory Rune, valkyrie imagery? idk there isnt alot here, probably something matching Helgi tho (Its cute that in the like 1 cutscene we have of her and Helgi they pair up without words and seem to be besties/ always standing near each other)

Vala - A Vala was a norse woman with the ability to fortell the future and perform sorcery, often translated as "seeress", "prophetess", "staff bearer", "wise woman" and "sorceress", and the staff bearer in that group intrigues me, they are often connected to Freyja, thers not alot of stuff to work with beyond magic themeing unless you'd pice a specific Vala

Vali - Vali was a son of Odin and Baldrs brother, after Baldrs death he was born and grew to become an adult in one day to avenge him by killing Hoder and binding Loki in the entrails of his son, hes the god of flight and to symbolize this he has a cloak made of raven feathers that when raised looks like wings, very omen of death he is, theres not very much more about him beyond his role in the story of Baldrs death, this line Then did Váli | slaughter bonds twist Makes me think a name along the lines of Bond Breaker or Twist of Bonds might fit (i will note that hes the one who warns the group Hoder has disappeared, leading to Sigurn's, Helgi's and Heimdall's deaths by malificents hands)

Vidar - A god associated with vengance, he is fated in ragnarok to kill Fenrir to avenge his fathers, Odin's, death, he has the moniker "The Silent God" and it is mentioned that he is as powerful as Thor and that he has thick shoes? called 'the possessor of the iron shoe' which might be in reference to the description of him killing Fenrir putting emphisis on him using his foot to hold the dogs lower jaw open, fenrir is already a keyblade in the series and making his keyblade a match for it might be fun, Iron Soul or something along those lines might be a good name for it, i would fully lean into the shoe sole-soul pun for a name, and making a silver blade to Helgi's gold might parallel the kingdom key/kingdom key d duo, idk why they would parallel but like thats where my mind immedately goes (its interesting that both Vali and Vidar are fated to survive ragnarok and are in the group that survive malifcents attack, and the four in the attack are fated to die in mythology, Hoder obviously, Heimdall to Loki in ragnarok and Sigurn and Helgi both in their story, and possibly ragnarok cause i think the valkyrie and warriors of valhalla both fight in it)

#this is a checklist for myself if i ever get into keyblade designing #i did way too much research for this #not on odin tho #i was lowkey doing research anyways #totally not for a keykid #i would never #khdr students #khdr #kh #kingdom hearts #keyblade #jellyfish's thoughts #jellyheart rambles #dont quote me on any of this i did like max an hour on googling for each of them

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heathenarmyimagines · 6 months ago

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Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

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