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nothingtolosebutweight · 2 years ago

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| Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund | Words: ~6800 [AO3] | Masterpost | Warnings: None really for this chapter. It's sweet and light with only a few hurtful memories

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Ivar ran around the apartment frantically, checking for the umpteenth time if he had placed everything the way he thought Heahmund would find it best. He wanted everything to be perfect so his beloved would feel comfortable and, in the best case, at home again.

—- It was now four weeks since they had said goodbye to each other at the airport in Dublin. Four weeks in which Ivar knew that Heahmund still loved him, and on top of that was willing to give him a second chance, and yet they hadn't been able to spend those weeks together. It was torture, especially because time had made it a point to progress only agonizingly slowly. At least that's how Ivar felt at the moment because the longing to be reunited with Heahmund was simply driving him crazy.

He often wished to go back to that moment at the airport, to have Heahmund close by again, to feel his hands on his body, and most of all, he longed for that kind of kisses they had shared when they had to say goodbye. Ivar was annoyed that he hadn't enjoyed the sweetness of Heahmund's lips to the fullest at that time. He had simply been too surprised, too overrun by thoughts which had distracted him.

Every now and then, he was also annoyed at himself that he had actually still gotten on the plane after Heahmund's promise instead of abandoning all plans and staying with him. But he had only really understood what had happened when he had already checked in. And then it was too late to turn back.

Especially when he lay alone in bed at night, he hated himself for having wanted to act reasonably for once and not waste his already paid ticket. Anyone else in his situation would certainly not have cared, but he seemed to be a clown, a masochistic one to boot.

Although it was also nice to be back home, in familiar surroundings, and to have his family around him, who had welcomed him at the airport without any reproach - only with love in his mother's eyes and affectionate teasing from his brothers - he longed for nothing more than to be back in Heahmund's presence. For Ivar, every day without him was a wasted one, and he had already had far too many of those in the past year.

It wasn't as if he had little contact with Heahmund. The complete opposite was the case. They saw and heard each other every day, but only virtually. Except at night, when they were both asleep, hardly an hour went by without one of them sending a text or voice message, or even a picture, to let the other participate in their daily activities.

Heahmund also liked it especially when Ivar called him while he was playing the piano. They didn't actively talk to each other then, because Heahmund himself was busy with stuff for his work, but they both still had the feeling of being close to each other in those moments. Sometimes they even cooked the same thing in the evening and then ate it together while face-timing, creating a sense of togetherness as well.

Ubbe once stated that they acted as if they were newly in love, and in a way it was like that. Although they both claimed that their love for each other had never died out, that it had always remained under the surface, they couldn't deny that everything was now boiling up again. And to Ivar, it felt great. He felt alive again. Full of joy.

To outsiders, this might seem crazy, and Ubbe often made fun of them - in a loving, brotherly way, but apart from the fact that Ivar would have preferred to stay in Ireland right away, he wouldn't have wanted to change anything about their interactions during their temporary separation.

Real contact, however, was something else entirely. Something they both missed and not a day had gone by that they hadn't talked about how nice it would be to not only be able to see and hear each other but to be able to kiss and feel each other skin on skin as well.

The time of unwanted separation was a sweet agony for both of them, but it would be over soon.

—- The sound of his cell phone stopped Ivar in his renewed round of checks. He walked over to the coffee table where his phone was lying and checked the message Heahmund had just sent him. It was a location information that showed him how far away his sweetheart still was. A quick check on Maps indicated that it would probably take another ten minutes or so before he would arrive. The knowledge that they would see each other again in only a few minutes made Ivar's heart skip a beat. To say that he was excited was a massive understatement.

With a smile on his lips and a lot of excitement in his belly, Ivar set about checking the last items for his final round of inspections. He once again checked the newly purchased food bowl on the floor, moved it to the right one last time, and decided to change the water in another bowl once more as well. Already for the third time, but for his guest of honor it should be as fresh as possible - namely Grace, who would come along.

It was the only solution that would allow Heahmund to stay longer than a few days, because even his cousin Mary wasn't eager to keep an eye on the little devil for more than an extended weekend. However, a long weekend was not enough for them. They didn't want to have to separate again right away. Another reason, of course, was that Heahmund's heart couldn't cope with the fact that his beloved cat would be alone in his apartment most of the day, missing her beloved human. The worry about Grace was also the reason why their reunion had been delayed a bit. Everything else, such as Heahmund's work, which he would now temporarily do entirely from home, they had been able to sort out quickly. What they should do with Grace, since no one dared to take care of her, had taken longer to decide.

To take her with him, Heahmund had overhauled his old car - for a lot of money - and taken on the much longer and, for him, more strenuous drive. In this way, he was able to spare Grace the flight, which he assumed would traumatize her even more with the loud noises and unfamiliar surroundings.

Ivar still had to get used to sharing Heahmund's love with a cat, but then again he found his caring very sweet as well. It made his boyfriend so much more attractive, if that was even possible.

Although Heahmund had assured him that he would bring whatever Grace needed, Ivar hadn't been able to resist buying her a few new things himself, especially lots of treats. The scars from her scratches on his arm were still visible and would probably always remain as fine lines. Therefore, he would do his best to avoid further attacks, and he planned to achieve this by bribing her with all the goodies she liked the most.

Of course, Ivar had also thought of his beloved when he had run errands. For him, he had bought treats in the form of his favorite tea and cookies, among other things that he thought would make him smile. He wanted to see Heahmund happy, so he tried his best to make that happen. The tea and cookies were already displayed in the kitchen, ready to be used, as Ivar was sure that Heahmund wouldn't say no to a freshly made cup of tea after his super-long journey. Saying no to his favorite cookies was unthinkable anyway.

After looking at the clock on his phone one more time, Ivar realized that he had about six more minutes left. He felt a bit stupid that he nevertheless already grabbed the apartment key from the hook in the hallway and went downstairs to wait the last few minutes outside in front of the front door. The pretended reason was that he wanted to help Heahmund carry his stuff anyway, but secretly he couldn't wait to finally be able to kiss him, hug him, and just look at him. Every second that he could see him earlier was therefore precious.

In his impatience, however, he had not thought to take his jacket with him. After only a short time in the cold, he bitterly regretted this. Mid-March was simply not the right time for standing outside dressed only in a shirt. To keep himself warm, Ivar rubbed over his arms and hopped a bit from leg to leg. For outsiders, he certainly presented an amusing picture.

As soon as he saw the car with the strange license plate arrive, the cold was forgotten and a broad smile stretched across Ivar’s face. Only seconds after the engine went out, Heahmund immediately opened the driver's door and wrapped his arms around him as soon as he stepped out of the car. They paused in their embrace for a moment, both pressed tightly against each other, relishing the moment, before Heahmund pulled back, smiling broadly while cupping Ivar’s face with his hands.

There was no time for big words since their lips were magnetically drawn to each other. The following kiss seemed to go on forever. The world around them plunged into oblivion. What counted was only the present moment. Again and again, they chased each other's lips, pressing them together to the rhythm of the dance of their love. Ivar snuggled up to Heahmund and held him by the waist, while Heahmund put one hand on Ivar's neck and the other on his waist. They continued what they had started at the airport, now enjoying the moment to the fullest without time pressure.

It took a reproachful meow from the passenger seat to get them to part, laughing softly because of the comedic timing.

"Someone seems to be mad," Ivar said, kissing Heahmund quickly again before bending down a bit to look inside the car.

Grace sat right by the door in her transport box, one paw on the bars, claws visibly extended. Ivar couldn't tell if this was just a threat or already a promise of revenge, because in a way she had to stay in a small box for so long because of him. He made a mental note to himself that he should better start bribing her with the treats as soon as she got to explore the apartment.

"Oh yes, she sang some songs of lament in between, but most of the time she was just sleeping," Heahmund replied, while stroking Ivar's back, unable to keep his fingers off him.

The threat of pain from another attack or the chill of the crisp March air - either one made Ivar shiver, and a moment later he felt Heahmund's arms around him, pulling him close and back into an upright position.

"Why aren't you wearing a jacket?" Heahmund asked, concerned, as he began stroking Ivar's arms, trying to warm him up a bit.

"Impatience and stupidity. I think that describes it best," Ivar turned his head to the side, gifting his beloved a smile that earned him another sweet kiss.

"Then let's quickly unpack the car so Gracie can get out of her prison and you can get back into the warmth." Heahmund placed another kiss on Ivar's temple and in the same breath gave him a slight slap on the butt, which made Ivar laugh.

"Aye, sir!"

While unloading the car, they organized themselves in such a way that Heahmund brought everything to the front door and from there Ivar took over, carrying the stuff up the stairs to the apartment. Running up and down the stairs warmed him up well, too.

At last, Grace was lifted out of the car by Heahmund, and the movement of her box made her meow lamentably again.

"I know, I know," Heahmund spoke soothingly to her, "We're almost there, lil Gracie. I'm sorry." On his last trip to the front door, he had already called out to Ivar that he wouldn't have to come downstairs again since everything had now been cleared out.

Already when he entered the well-known staircase, Heahmund felt strange and the feeling got even stronger when he arrived in front of their former shared apartment door. The memory of the last time he stood before it instantly popped into his head. It came over him so suddenly and strongly that he almost thought he could taste the whiskey on his tongue that he had drunk copiously before closing the door behind him for - what he believed at the time - the last time.

Heahmund remembered his condition back then. Befogged by alcohol, a heavy heart beating in his chest, causing his blood to pulse through an empty shell. He still knew exactly how hopeless everything had felt, how difficult the step had been to leave everything behind. In terms of lifetime, it hadn't been too long ago, therefore the memories were still fresh.

At that dire time, he wouldn't have thought that he would ever stand in that place again, especially not with lightness and newly awoken love in his heart.

Before he could lose himself further in thought, Ivar opened the door and paused in his movement, startled, as he probably hadn't expected Heahmund to stay right in front of it.

"I was beginning to think you were lost," Ivar started talking, a bit out of breath from the effort of dragging all the stuff upstairs, and surely also due to his nervousness. "I've already prepared the litter box and filled up her food bowl. Everything is ready for her."

Heahmund smiled at him. He thought it sweet how hard Ivar was trying to be a good host. "Well, would you let us both into your home then?" he asked, waiting for Ivar to take a step to the side to get out of the way.

"Our home." Ivar corrected before stepping aside, smiling as he watched the two enter the apartment.

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"I expected a lot of things, but somehow not this." Ivar's voice was hoarse, forcing him to clear his throat briefly. Slowly, he let his fingers slide over Heahmund's bare chest, tracing his sternum, then wandering sideways down to his hips, where he paused briefly before moving back up. Ivar smiled as he felt a kiss on his temple. This innocent gesture made his heart beat faster again, yet it had only just regained its composure.

"Is it bad? Maybe too soon?" Heahmund tried to catch a glimpse of Ivar's face, but the position they were lying in together on the couch made that impossible. He was tired from the long drive and now additionally drained from the sex they had just had. It had just happened. Unplanned, but somehow not surprising.

They had only quickly released Grace from her transport box and briefly watched as she began to suspiciously examine her new surroundings. Carefully, step by step, with her belly close to the ground.

The rest of the luggage hadn't mattered for the time being, nor had the already arranged tea. They had thirsted for kisses, not a hot drink. The first ones had been still tender, almost innocent, but each subsequent one had kindled more and more fire. Their hands had been unable to stop touching each other, exploring each other anew, ridding their bodies of the cumbersome clothing. At some point they had ended up on the couch, surrendering to their lusts there.

Gently and soulfully they had given themselves to each other, taking their time to get to know each other anew with all their senses, refreshing old memories and adding new ones. Everything had felt right and even perfect when they had connected, not only emotionally but also physically. They had once again become one, merging into a loving union as they rode the wave of happiness that came with it.

"Not at all," Ivar said quickly. "I just didn't dare to imagine lying next to your naked body so soon." He let his gaze glide over Heahmund, whose skin was still covered with a fine layer of sweat in some places. His fingers followed his eyes, drawing circles on the slightly reddened areas on his beloved's chest. Ivar felt so relaxed and just happy that he couldn't stop smiling. "You're still so damn handsome," he said rapturously, with his eyes unable to get enough of the sight. Giving in to his inner urge, he bent over Heahmund and covered his chest with tender kisses, causing a new wave of lust to surge through him, rushing into his nether regions.

"Look who's talking." Heahmund hummed with pleasure as he stroked his fingers through Ivar's loose hair. It was still an unusual sight to see his boyfriend with longer hair, but he liked it, no doubt. With a little more pressure against Ivar's neck, he directed his head upward, while he turned more to the side at the same time, chasing after Ivar’s lips. "You have no idea how many times I've lain wide awake on the couch thinking about just crawling into bed with you," he murmured between open mouth kisses, "But instead of doing so, I just ..."

"Masturbated?" Ivar interrupted him, chuckling, breaking the kiss entirely now. He looked into Heahmund's eyes for a moment before pressing closer, sensing their privates touching as he did so. He lowered his head a little and placed his lips on his beloved's neck to continue kissing him there.

"No. I just stayed a coward and kept staring at the ceiling." Heahmund continued with what he actually wanted to say, tilting his head back to give Ivar more space. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. "I did masturbate in the shower, though," he added in a low voice, starting to grin as soon as his secret was revealed.

They shared a giggle, and just the image in Ivar's mind of Heahmund pleasuring himself while water ran down his perfect body, thinking of him, excited him even more. His hand moved down and his fingertips stroked purposefully over both of their still-soft cocks, eliciting a sweet sigh from his beloved, which he joined in.

"Give me a break, my love," Heahmund said, quite with regret in his voice, as he stopped Ivar's hand, which was already in the process of further stimulating him. "I'm really, really tired. I might need a nap to get through the rest of the day."

Although Ivar would have liked to continue, he could understand that Heahmund was worn out after his long journey. However, he couldn't resist a little teasing. "Sure, old man. I'll quickly get you a blanket from the bedroom, then you can stay naked for later, but still won't get cold."

"That would be too kind-hearted, you little bully."

As soon as he uttered the nickname, Heahmund realized that it had been stupid to say such a thing. He had used this term a few times in the past when Ivar had lost himself in his verbal attacks during one of his many screaming fits. When rage and anger had taken possession of him. At that time he had tried to make him understand that this kind of behavior was nothing more than bullying, so he had called him one, to make him understand the seriousness of it and also how inappropriate it was that he was treating him, his boyfriend, in such a way.

Uncertainly, he looked up at Ivar. It hadn't been his intention at all to point out his beloved's past behavior or to ruin the perfect mood they were in. To his relief, however, Ivar just laughed, showing no sign that this remark had triggered something in him as he reached for his underpants and pulled them over, hiding his half-awakened cock in them. Before he could walk away, Heahmund reached for his hand, forcing him to stop in his movement, and squeezed it gently, looking up at him. "I love you."

Ivar’s lips twisted into a blissful smile. It felt so good to him, to hear those words again. "I love you, too. Much more than words could ever describe," he said, returning the squeeze in an equally tender way. He couldn't help but lean down to Heahmund once again to kiss him, making him feel how much he loved him.

He then fetched a blanket from the bedroom as promised, and when he returned to the living room, his beloved was already lying there with his eyes closed, tightly clutching the pillow on which he himself had previously lain. Smiling, Ivar took one last look at the bare bottom in front of him before spreading the blanket over Heahmund, whereupon he received a murmured thank you. He squatted down next to the couch and gently stroked the black, tousled hair. "Do you mind if I start putting your luggage away?" he asked in a whisper.

"No, go ahead," Heahmund answered in an equally quiet voice that made it clear how far along he was on his way to Dreamland.

Ivar walked back into the hallway on quiet soles, looking at the suitcases and cardboard boxes that had only been quickly put down there. He decided to start with the suitcases and deliberately walked back and forth twice, carrying them rather than rolling them to make less noise. As he did so, he also kept an eye out for Grace to make sure he knew where she was sneaking around. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally scare her.

Before retreating completely to the bedroom to unpack, he quickly went back to the kitchen and retrieved one of the many treat boxes he had purchased in advance. The sound of the crackling bag immediately attracted Grace, and she poked her head around the corner of the door, looking suspicious.

"This one's for you," Ivar said, taking one of the stinky chunks out of the bag and holding it up in the air to make it clear to her before placing it on the table beside him. "In return, please don't give me any trouble, okay? Do we have a deal?" He grabbed a few more treats and spread them around the kitchen a bit. That way, Grace was well distracted, at least for a little while, and he was able to escape the kitchen to finally get to work in his closet.

Already a few days ago, he had limited his clothes to the area he had also occupied before their separation. The more of Heahmund's clothes found their way into the empty part of the closet, the more satisfied Ivar felt. Even if by no means all the clothes his beloved owned were now back in their proper place, this was at least a start. Step by step, the hoped-for normality returned, and the apartment began to radiate something like a feeling of home again. Heahmund meant so much to him. He was like home to Ivar, and with each piece of him that returned here, this was also physically underlined.

One of Heahmund's sweaters caught his eye in particular and since Ivar was starting to get cold, he put it on without further ado, ignoring the side of his wardrobe with much more choice. He had already taken one of Heahmund's shirts with him when he had returned from Ireland, purely by accident, as he had claimed after being caught during one of their face-time dates. That he would now no longer have to rely on a piece of clothing to feel close to Heahmund made Ivar even happier. He would nevertheless still steal his boyfriend's clothes from time to time, that much was certain.

For now, Ivar pushed the empty suitcases aside. They would certainly store them later in the cellar or on top of the closet, although he would prefer to dispose of them entirely. This way he would have even more security that Heahmund would not disappear again, even if this could not be prevented only by banishing the suitcases. Ivar knew this himself. He had to prove himself, hold on to his love this time and not destroy it again. It was up to him and as he crept back into the living room, stopping briefly in front of the couch and catching a glimpse of Heahmund sleeping peacefully, he swore to himself once more that he would not jeopardize this newly received chance under any circumstances.

After emptying four more boxes, containing items for Grace, kitchen utensils, and some work-related stuff, Ivar made himself comfortable with a freshly brewed tea on the armchair next to the couch. From there he had a wonderful view of Heahmund, although unfortunately, he was unable to see his face because it was facing the back of the couch.

He briefly went through the pictures on his phone that he had secretly taken of Heahmund before, but decided against setting one of them as the new background image - he would wait for a new couple photo. Instead, Ivar opened his mother's last message and started replying to it. His family also wanted to know if everything had gone well, knowing that Heahmund was due to arrive today.

Shortly after Ivar started a game on his phone, Heahmund began to stir, leading Ivar to put his phone aside and instead watch his boyfriend wake up, enjoying the little moaning noises he made as he did so.

As Heahmund turned onto his back, he rubbed his eyes briefly before finally opening them. Immediately, their eyes met and Heahmund couldn't help but grin widely.

"I've forgotten what a creep you can be." His voice was still husky from sleep, which made it all the more attractive to Ivar.

"Wait until you see the pictures of your bare ass that I posted on my social media accounts while you were imitating Sleeping Beauty." Ivar stood up from his chair and walked over to the couch. He took his still half-full teacup with him and handed it to Heahmund, who accepted it thankfully.

"The worrisome thing is that I'm not even sure if you're joking or not." After just the first sip, he handed the cup back, his face contorted in disgust. "Oh, babe. That's not tea, that's a crime against humanity. How much sugar did you use?"

"You being awake for more than a minute without me getting a kiss is a crime, and it's against the house rules as well!"

Heahmund snorted in amusement and sat up, leaning back against the back of the couch. "You're right. My apologies." He grabbed Ivar's hand and pulled him closer, gesturing for him to sit on his lap, which he did, immediately claiming the kiss afterward.

"How long have I slept?" Heahmund asked as he nuzzled his nose against Ivar's neck, inhaling his scent.

"Not that long. An hour and a half maybe? Do you feel better?" Ivar could almost answer the question himself, seeing how tired Heahmund still looked.

"Not really, but I assume you don't mind a relaxing rest of the day with some food, maybe a movie, and..."

"...more sex?" Ivar interjected, gyrating his hips for emphasis, eliciting a wry grin from his lover.

"I would surrender to my fate. Without any objection," Heahmund announced, both hands already busy grabbing Ivar's buttocks, pressing him tighter against him.

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Home.

Heahmund repeated the simple word in his mind, almost tasting on his tongue the insipid aftertaste it left in him. It was written on a sweet welcome note that Ivar had stuck on one of the tea tins he must have bought especially for him because he knew that Ivar would never buy anything like Earl Grey and all the other great classics for himself. He was simply a philistine in this field.

It was still quite early in the morning, and when Heahmund had entered the kitchen for the first time since his arrival - Ivar had made it his business yesterday to provide enough food and drinks to maintain their stamina, he had noticed that not much had changed in the room. The same was true for the rest of the apartment. He hadn't had much time to look at everything closely yesterday, but what he had seen so far all seemed very familiar.

The floor plan was still the same, of course, but not much had changed in terms of furniture or decoration either. Only a few things were new, like the piano in one corner of the living room, some pictures on the wall, and some of Ivar’s things that had found a place on shelves where his belongings used to be.

At first, it had seemed strange to him that Ivar had changed so little, even though he had lived here alone for almost a year and a half, but on the other hand, he could well imagine why he had avoided change. Besides, when Heahmund thought about it, a year and a half was not too long a time either. In terms of his entire life, he probably had been away for just a fraction of a minute.

Sometime yesterday in the early evening, when he had let his gaze wander in a quiet minute, his eyes had been drawn to one shelf in particular. Ivar had been in the kitchen cooking at the time, while he had stayed alone in the living room, cuddling with Grace, using his tiredness as an excuse not to help prepare dinner. There were books on that shelf now. He hadn't been able to make out exactly what kind of books they were, and he didn't care to be honest. What had lured him to this spot in the first place was rather the knowledge of what had once stood there and what was now no longer visible.

Once there had been bottles of various liquors on that shelf. Initially, mainly for celebrations such as birthdays, which were celebrated boisterously among the Lothbroks. There had also been a few selected bottles of red wine for the two of them after Ivar had acquired a taste for taking a sip of it during cozy evenings along with pizza and a good movie. Later, it had become his personal supply closet, from which he helped himself almost daily with progressively stronger drinks. In the end, his favorite drink had become whiskey, preferably neat.

Heahmund didn't know if Ivar had put any alcohol away on purpose, but he could well imagine it, as he was obviously trying to do everything right. At first, he had thought that seeing a couple of bottles there wouldn't have bothered him. He didn't care about alcohol anymore and could walk past the shelves in the supermarket without a second thought, or getting sweaty palms. But the more often his eyes had wandered to that shelf, even though the contents had changed, the weirder he had felt. A feeling of tightness had spread through his chest, accompanied by memories he thought he had repressed months ago.

In addition to all the positive feelings since his arrival, which Ivar in particular triggered in him, Heahmund also felt more and more clearly the burden of the past which tried to crush him since he had re-entered the apartment. Symbolically, for him, the place had become one where he had lost himself and no longer could see a future. The fact that everything still looked almost the same as before did nothing to combat these feelings. It made Heahmund uncomfortable. Faster than he had expected. For him, it was as if he saw old ghosts in every corner. Ones he didn't want to think about anymore. He didn't believe in Feng Shui or anything like that, but he couldn't help thinking that energies might be lingering in places, haunting them.

Almost every piece of their interior had a story. Some were good, others had the painful past too strongly manifested in them. Like the table in the kitchen, which he tried not to look at too closely right now.

One look had been enough, and like yesterday in front of the apartment door and at the sight of the shelf, a memory had immediately appeared in front of his inner eye, which had inevitably taken him back to the day when he had last been here. He could still remember too well how he had sat at this very table, writing a letter in which he had somehow tried to put his dark and confused thoughts into words. Hoping that Ivar would understand the reasons for his decision and, above all, that he would not hate him for the rest of his life.

Heahmund didn't regret coming back though. He was still looking forward to their new beginning, picturing a positive future for the both of them whenever he lost himself in daydreaming. A happy life with the person he loved the most at his side was all he dreamt of.

When he asked his heart if he had found that person in Ivar, he had no doubt. He loved him as he had never loved anyone before. Even during the separation he hadn't been able to fall in love with someone else, hadn't even wasted one single thought about finding someone new. Loving Ivar just felt natural to him, as if he was born for it.

The thought that fate had brought them together, that perhaps they were something like two souls looking out for each other in each of their lives, needing each other to find their fulfillment, had come to him more often in recent weeks. He had not believed in such a thing before, but the strong connection he felt with Ivar, the intensity of the love he felt for him, all spoke to Heahmund that perhaps they were destined to be together. Even if it wasn't, it was at least a nice thought to hold onto.

A thought he also needed when asking the same question not to his heart but to his mind. The answer then wasn't so simple. It was a bit more complicated, shaped by too many questioning thoughts and also a pinch of fear. Part of him still feared that he would end up regretting giving that second chance, but the larger part, however, was optimistic or tried to be.

In a way, Ivar made it easy for him to hold on to their second try. It was obvious how much he had worked on himself. All Heahmund could see at that moment was the sweet, caring Ivar he had fallen in love with. It was easy to imagine a future together with him.

This thought was affirmed when Ivar entered the kitchen. Still looking utterly sleepy, his hair disheveled, his eyes barely open, pulling a pouty face that begged to be kissed. The negative thoughts that Heahmund had tried to suppress until just now were gone in a flash, making room for all the positive ones that Ivar triggered in him.

"Morning, love." Heahmund smiled contentedly as Ivar approached him straightforwardly, snuggling up to him from behind, leaving no millimeter of space between them. He felt the soft lips on his neck and warm hands on his belly trying to get under his shirt.

"Who gave you permission to leave the bed, huh?" Ivar asked in a sleepy voice before a long drawn-out yawn filled the room.

Heahmund felt the warm breath on his shoulder. He reached down to grab one of Ivar's sneaky hands to then bring it in front of his mouth and place a kiss on the back of it. "Did I break house rules again?"

"That depends on the reason why you left."

"Hunger made me do it."

"Hmm, hmm." Ivar hummed contentedly, having finally managed to get one hand under Heahmund's shirt. His hand went on a journey, stroking over the flat belly while he drove his little finger under the waistband of Heahmund's shorts. "That's forgivable. After all, I robbed you of quite a bit of energy yesterday, right?"

"You seem to still be hungry too, huh?"

Ivar smiled against Heahmund's shoulder. He turned his head a bit, looking for the spot where no shirt was covering his lover's skin, placing an open-mouthed kiss there. "How can I not when you look like a snack, hun." At the keyword snack, his stomach began to growl as well.

Laughing softly, Heahmund wriggled out of the embrace and turned around. Before he could lean over to kiss Ivar, he stopped him by pressing his palm against his chest.

Ivar saw it directly in the way Heahmund looked at him that something was weighing on his mind. A bit concerned, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Heahmund was confused, not knowing directly what Ivar was alluding to until he nudged his head with his index finger.

"What's going on in there?"

"A lot."

"Tell me about it."

Heahmund smiled since it was usually his part to do this with Ivar. It touched him that he was so attentive. The pressure against his chest had eased and he used the opportunity to steal the kiss he wanted. In doing so, he urged Ivar backward a bit until his butt bumped against the table. Taking the hint, Ivar sat down on it, automatically spreading his legs so Heahmund could find space between them.

"What do you think about moving?" Heahmund blurted out after he ended the kiss.

Ivar looked puzzled, needed a moment to process the question. "To Ireland?" He asked, confusion all over his face.

Heahmund found this expression so sweet that he had to steal another quick kiss before answering. "Not necessarily, no. But I just thought if we're serious about this fresh start, we should leave this apartment behind too, don't you think?" He held Ivar by the sides, making stroking motions with his thumb.

"Is it still an if question for you?" Ivar put one of his hands on Heahmund's cheek and studied his facial expressions closely.

Heahmund shook his head. "No. The question of starting over, of course, is not. I want that very much." He pondered for a moment how to proceed, biting his lower lip lightly. "The question about moving is basically not really a question either. I want to move. No, that is not the whole truth as well." Again a pause arose, but Ivar gave him time, waited until Heahmund had sorted out his thoughts even though he was getting restless inside. The hands at his sides that held him grounded him. "I need to relocate. It feels strange to be back here if I'm honest. Everything reminds me of the past, and I don't think it's going to help us to look forward."

Ivar nodded in understanding, leaning his head against Heahmund's shoulder. His arms closed tightly around him and Heahmund followed his lead. He was not yet sure what to make of it, and it was far too early for his head to produce any clever thoughts. "Do you want to stay here in Norway then?"

Heahmund shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't thought about it yet. "I'm open to suggestions, but with your studies here, it might be reasonable to stay here for a while, and after you graduate we can always move again. It's not like we have to grow old in the new apartment."

"But we have to grow old together."

"Yes, I would like that. Very much so." Heahmund placed a kiss on Ivar's neck and then loosened the embrace a little, looking him in the eyes while running his hands over his sides again.

Sadness was the first thing Ivar felt when he thought about giving up this apartment. He liked it, was very attached to it. But he could understand Heahmund's point of view, and in the end, it was only a small sacrifice to leave it behind, if in return he could spend his life with Heahmund by his side.

"Maybe we can look for one that has an extra room for your little devil?"

"Why? Do you want your own room for your music?"

"I actually meant Gracie..."

"Ah, yeah, right. I was aware of that, of course." Heahmund said with a laugh as he fought back the nudge to his side. He reached for Ivar's hands and placed them on his hips, leaning in for a kiss that was meant to be a small apology, but it went far beyond that. It didn't take long and the original intention of making breakfast was forgotten. Instead of clattering dishes, passionate sounds rang out as they celebrated their love and tied new memories to the table which would hopefully drown out the painful ones a bit until they would move out and, in the best case scenario, leave them behind altogether.

#heavar #heahmund x ivar #bishop heahmund #ivar the boneless #ivar vikings #ivar lothbrok #modern au #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings #modern heahmund #modern ivar #vikings moodboard #fanfiction #my moodboards #heavaredit #heavar moodboard #my stuff #my writing

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Magic and Firelight (Ivar x reader)

Oh God. you know how I said I never write smut....apparently I lied. I blame this entire thing on @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for encouraging this. All. Their. Faults.

This one-shot was inspired by the moodboard created by the ever-lovely @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom for a challenge. In the challenge she had to use Ivar, MagicAU and Licking....so I made sure to incorporate those themes into this written one-shot.

Also this does not fit anywhere in the Vikings timeline because I want everyone alive and marginally happy, ok? So everyone lives in Kattegat but think season 5a Ivar.

Warnings: SMUT, unexpected feels, like one swear word.

Words: 4200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood

reminder: not my moodboard. this entire, glorious thing belongs to @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom who was kind enough to let me use it.

Revelry filled the air, coating everything in the Great Hall like a fresh snowfall. The feast was well underway. The smell of roasted meat and ale rose steadily into the air, along with the laughter and cheers of those still in attendance. A contest of strength just finished, the loser ending up with blood dripping from his nose, tainting his teeth, as he laughed uproariously.

A joyous shout shot through the hall. The signal of the next form of entertainment. Fists pounded on the tables in delight, a few exclamations arising amongst the sound. All noise ceased when a slow drumbeat began, like the echo of a steady heart. It sunk into the skin, traveling to the chest until one's heartbeat matched in echo.

Ivar shifted in his seat near the base of the thrones. They both sat empty behind him, his mother having retired long ago, and Ragnar at a nearby table with Floki and a few others, laughing with a flushed face and ale horn in hand. Glancing around his table, he could see the wild excitement in his brothers' eyes…. for they all knew what came next.

As the drumbeat started to increase, the first of the swirling dancers emerged. Their bodies covered in thin fabric that teased as much as it covered, leaving one longing for a glimpse only to be denied as she continued her provocative movements. The six beautiful women moved through the tables like swans gliding through water, each step, each sway of their hips graceful and in tune with the beat.

"Who are they?" Ivar asked gruffly. These women were not the normal entertainment at a feast. Nor did he did not recognize any of them.

"They came with a trader from the Mediterranean." Ubbe answered, never removing his eyes from the dancers. "He petitioned with father yesterday to allow them the chance to entertain us in the way of their people…. or something along those lines."

"Remind me to ask that trader where they are specifically from, because I know where I am going to explore next." Hvitserk stated with a smirk.

Ubbe bumped shoulders with Hvitserk, an unspoken agreement in the action.

Ivar rolled his eyes at their antics and turned his gaze back to the dancers…. Only to freeze when one locked eyes with him.

She stood across the fire, the flames appeared to lick and dance upon her skin. Every curve, each dip of her luxurious body highlighted in the flickering light. Her hair hung long, swaying with each movement, its own form of enticement. It was those eyes though, that held him spellbound to her. Large, luminous orbs that seemed to peer into his soul, that stole the very breath from his lungs. All he could do was stare as she danced. Each movement was pure elegance and seduction. The whole time those mesmerizing eyes kept him spellbound, oblivious to all but her. With her eyes locked on him, it felt she danced only for him. Each twirl of her body, each shake of her barely clad hips, her hands tracing patterns in the air, it all felt like a dance to entrance him. To maintain his attention. To rile up his blood and desire for her. To make him yearn for her with his whole body and soul.

When she finally released him from her gaze to spin away, he gasped in a lungful of air. Not realizing until now how he had forgotten to breathe while watching her, so enthralled by her, even air became unnecessary.

"You alright, Ivar?"

The raven-haired Ragnarsson looked at Hvitserk, noticing the smile that teased the corners of his mouth.

"This is the closest he's seen a naked woman besides Margrethe and we all know how that went." Sigurd snarked, bringing his cup of ale to his lips.

"Shut up before I rip your tongue out and feed it to the flames." He snarled at his curly-haired brother. Fury stirred in the hollow of his chest like a wild animal threatening to tear apart its cage.

Ubbe smacked the table. "Enough. Both of you."

The table quieted as their focus returned to the dancers. Eyes searching the hall, a slow-growing panic simmered in Ivar's gut as he could not see her. The other five dancers spun and twirled about, their bodies an example of art in motion.

Without warning, the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder caused his head to whip to the side, ready to demand blood from the one with the audacity to touch him…. Only to be met with those eyes that made him flustered and hot all over.

With her touches tender, she trailed her hand from his shoulder up his neck to cup the side of his face. Even if the need arose, he would be unable to remove himself from her sensual touch and her penetrating gaze, bewitched by her to remain still. Never before had he felt so exposed to someone. Even the times when he broke bones and had to be carried like a child, humiliation ripping into his skin. Now he felt undone as she beheld him, consumed by her with just a look. If the other dancers were art, then she, this divine beauty beside him, was a masterpiece, crafted by the gods themselves.

Waves of jealousy rolled off his brothers, crashing against him like stormy waves on a beach but for once, he did not care. His eyes stayed glued to her, hypnotized by her very presence.

Suddenly he found himself facing her, unable to remember when he turned away from the table. She stood between his brace-clad legs, gazing down at him. Her fingers traced over his cheek, only to land at his mouth. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip, encouraging his lips to part. Unable to resist her, he obliged, lips parting slightly. She made no further move, either to draw away or closer. His heart beat rapidly with excitement and mischief. A streak of wicked intent made his lips curl slightly, giving him away. His leather-bound hands reached out for her thighs; the soft skin almost foreign beneath his calloused-hardened fingers. In the same instant, he nipped at her thumb, still lingering on his bottom lip. Then he waited for her reaction with an impish smirk.

She chuckled, a sultry, honeyed sound that flowed straight to his useless cock and made him shiver in delight.

Never removing her eyes from his, she reached down to grab one of his hands on her exposed thighs. Then torturously slow, she guided it up the contours of her body, his hand caressing her hip, up her stomach and between her full breasts until his hand was at her mouth. Without waiting, she encouraged two of his fingers within. As her tongue swiped and sucked on his fingers like they were a tasty treat, Ivar lost all ability to think or resist. His hand still on her, gripped her thigh to ground himself, to confirm this was not a dream.

Women never paid attention to him, never looked at him with lust. After the latest raid in England where he proved his prowess in strategy and as a warrior, less women looked at him with disgust.

But never this.

Never had one put him under a spell that made him want to sell his soul to possess her. Never had he seen desire darken a woman's eyes as they beheld him. Never had his own body and mind reacted with such a carnal, animalistic instinct.

He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dropped his hand to curl around her throat with just the slightest pressure. "Are you a thrall?"

"No." She answered in a breathy tone, that only intensified his growing lust. Then she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, those barely contained breasts almost in his face. "Do with me what you want, Ivar the Boneless. I am yours tonight."

Whatever previous desire bubbled in his veins exploded at hearing her alluring whisper. A guttural groan lodged in his throat. The hunger for her reached an all-consuming, feverish pitch. Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slipping the crutch under his arm. "Come."

He half expected her to laugh and walk away but instead, she traced a hand down the tunic over his torso with a purr of pleasure. Then when she looked up at him coyly once more, he was halfway to throwing her onto the table behind him to ravish her right there.

She silently followed him back to his room. The whole walk his mind raged, both in desire and fear. He knew he could not pleasure her as a man but this ethereal creature that followed him deserved to be worshipped. And she had chosen him tonight. Out of all those in the hall, including his brothers…. she chose him.

He vowed to make sure she did not regret it.

He dismissed his personal thrall as they walked in, pleased to see the fire lit in the small hearth and furs laid out before it. The door closed, echoing in the room. Once alone, he moved over to sit on a nearby stool, leaning his crutch on the wall behind him.

She watched the fire, standing in the middle of his room. Her clothing appeared almost translucent in this light, a way of directing and guiding the eye along her perfect body.

"Take off your clothes." He commanded in a husky tone.

With a seductive wink back at him, she tugged on the few ties keeping the minimal clothing on her flawless body. In a moment, everything pooled at her feet….and he damn near swallowed his tongue. Bare before him, he was convinced there was nothing more stunning, more gorgeous than her. She put every sunset to shame, every spring flower, every star to grace the night sky, nothing could ever compare to her.

"Dance for me, my beauty."

A beguiling smile on her lips, she watched him for a moment. Then she began to move. A slow sway of her hips, hands trailing up her body to rise above her head.

There was no force that could tear his gaze away from her. When she danced in the Great Hall, he had been memorized…. but now, it would be sinful to remove his eyes from her graceful form. The circular motion of her hips, her hands tracing the curves of her body, the heavy-lidded eyes that watched him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at her feet for eternity and watch her dance. To worship at her altar and bestow her with gifts from the Aesir.

Then she began to spin slowly, allowing him to see all of her, a music leading her that only she was aware of. At one point, she squatted down and slowly rose, only to snap her hips up in a way that made him audibly growl. His hands were clenched in his lap, desperate to touch her, to replace her hands with his as they caressed her body.

Finally he could stand it no longer, this enchanting, sensual dance that made his blood boil ceaselessly with desire.

He swallowed thickly, mouth dry. "Go by the fire." He demanded.

If she was confused by his command, she said nothing. Turning around she sashayed over to the furs laid in front of the small hearth in his room. His eyes greedily drunk in the curves of her body as she moved. She laid down on the pile of furs before the hearth, unashamed in her nudity. With the colors of the flames and shadows painted across her body, she appeared ethereal. Something only for the gods to view. Perfection at its purest form.

Sitting on the stool, he quickly worked the straps of his braces, never taking his eyes off her. Unwilling to miss her glory for even a moment. She laid on her side, gaze on him. One hand propped her head up while the other skimmed those curves highlighted by the flames.

Once freed, he crawled over to her like the predator he was. Hunger and domination with each placement of his hands and shift of his shoulders. There was no doubt who was in control. His fierce gaze never removed from her, keeping her pinned with the same strength as if ropes held her down. As he approached, she silently rolled onto her back, an intensity in those eyes as they watched him and a kittenish smile on her lips. With that, he crawled up her body until he hovered over her, blanketing her perfect form. Then he waited. Staring down at her, he was shocked once again that she chose him. That she currently lay beneath, pliant to his touch and commands. It was a powerful and dark sensation. To have this control, this power over her….to have her at his mercy. A more rapturous feeling than killing Christian priests or obliterating any army.

"Ivar…." She sighed out, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. "Don't keep me waiting."

A crooked grin grew on his face. Here lay this Valkyrie, this goddess, this divine creature beneath him, begging for him. Without wasting a moment, his mouth descended on her skin, his arms holding himself just above her. He placed open-mouth kisses along her chest, loving the soft sounds of pleasure it drew from her. His tongue traced the curve of her breasts, paying special attention to the tattoo of a flower between them. Suddenly he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, causing her back to arch. Her hand flew up to grip his braids, as he sucked and licked the bud until it was hard and peaked, then he switched to the other side to repeat his ministrations.

"Ivar…." She moaned, tugging on his braids, hips rolling beneath them.

"Shhhh…. soon." He nipped at the side of her breast, pleased with the heat that flared in her eyes. "We go at my pace…. and I plan on taking my time."

Slowly he slithered his way down her body, his tongue leading the way over her soft skin. There was nowhere he did not worship with his mouth, nowhere safe that his tongue did not covetously explore. By the time he was done with her, his mouth and tongue intimately knew every inch of her and the erotic sounds those spots drew from her lips. With a long swipe of his tongue starting at her sternum, he trailed it down between her breasts to her belly only to end at the top of her womanhood.

He glanced up from between her legs, the scent of her arousal a beacon for him to follow. She laid there, bathed in flames, coated in his saliva, chest rising and falling like the waves of the seas, with her eyes closed and mouth partly open. Never had he witnessed anything more magnificent.

"Still with me, my beauty?"

Her eyes fluttered open to peek at him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. "Always."

With that, he dove into her. His mouth feasted on the juices coming from her womanhood. It was nothing like he expected. She tasted sweeter than honey, stronger than ale. He continued to lap and lick her, wanting more, needing more of her taste. For he swore, this was the nectar of the gods. A sweet ambrosia not meant for mortal men.

Her cries of pleasure doubled his resolve to ravish her with his tongue. To bring her such pleasure that she would always remember him. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, watching her keen to the ceiling above. Her hips rolled as he sucked at her folds with reckless abandon.

Each mewl and cry from her mouth, made him feel like a god. Each chanting of his name seemed to strengthen his body to continue. Even as he laid on the floor, propped up on his elbows, her legs over his shoulders, he felt no pain. As if her ecstasy flowed back into him. Instead of the constant ache of pain from his legs that clawed at his mind ceaselessly, for once it was silenced. All he was aware of…. was her. As if she invaded his body and possessed his mind.

If he was to die now, with her cries of pleasure filling his ears, he knew Odin would still allow him into Valhalla. For to bring this celestial being pleasure must be akin to the glory of battle. His blood roared in his ears, forcing him to continue, desperate for more. Her taste on his tongue was a craving he never knew he had until now. In the cradle of her thighs was his new favorite place to exist.

When she peaked, when her pleasure overwhelmed her and his name was screamed into the very heavens above, he greedily ate away at her, drinking everything down and still yearning for more. He licked at her womanhood through the aftershocks, her taste and scent all his senses wanted to know.

Once satisfied, he peered up at her, expecting to see her blissed-out, eyes closed and immobile. Instead what he witnessed made him freeze, unable to move.

She observed him with eyes that glowed like two full moons on the darkest of nights.

Where once he had been the predator, intent on devouring her, adamant to possess her…. now he understood. He was the prey. He was the one caught in the spider's web. He was the one now owned by her alone. Those glowing eyes entranced him, preventing him from looking away, sealing his mouth shut to call out. Unable to do anything but gawk at her in a bewildered, longing awe.

Slowly she leaned up, staring at him. He could not remember moving. All his mind could fathom were those eyes…. those glowing orbs that he swore had seen Valhalla, that galaxies swirled amidst, that stole his soul and branded her mark on him. When he next blinked, he was sitting, with her straddling his lap, in all her exquisite, naked glory. Her eyes beheld him with softness, her hands a gentle weight on his shoulders, even her bare breasts pressed against his chest, all of it alluded a power that could only be answered with reverence.

"Who…. are you?" He stuttered out.

She smiled; a captivating thing that made him want to worship her again but also sink his teeth into her bottom lip. "I have been called many things throughout my life. But tonight, those names do not matter. Tonight, I am simply y/n…. Tonight, I am here for you."

"Y/n?"

She purred as if the name stoked a fire within her. "Yes, my valiant warrior." Her hand tangled in his braids again, almost guiding his head to the side as her plump lips skimmed his jawline. "I have heard your prayers, seen your cries. I cannot give you your legs but I will give you what I can."

A quake raced up his spine. "What?"

"Shhhh…. surrender to me."

Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, as if giving him time to pull away. Instead, he felt a jolt shoot through him. He groaned, opening his mouth, allowing her to take control. He had thought her taste as he lapped greedily at her core was ambrosia, but her mouth…. oh, the taste of her mouth was both death and life combined. Something so intoxicating and potent, it stole the very breath from his lungs while a vitality bleed into his veins simultaneously. Her mouth held him prisoner, a melding of their lips and tongues that scorched him in every way deliciously possible.

"Do you feel it?" She whispered, before delving into his mouth again with an even greater need.

And he did. By this point, his legs should be screaming at him, especially with her weight on his thighs. Instead there was no pain, no ache. Only blissful tingles danced on his nerves and a fire stirred in his belly.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, eyes wide and panting as he gawked at her.

"I cannot heal you," she quietly said, eyes still glowing, "but I can take some of your pain in exchange for the pleasure you gave me."

Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. Pain, his constant companion since birth, now was barely a blip on his mental radar. He dropped his head to her chest, overwhelmed by the lessened pain and bliss coursing through his veins. As he thought about it, as he feasted on her, every lick, every caress of his tongue against her, pain drained from his body like slow droplets of water. It was only now he noticed, so caught up in her exquisite taste, that he easily could become drunk on and never wish to be sober again.

She spoke against his ear, authority and power ringing in each word. "Hear my words, Ivar the Boneless. Your fame will live on for generations. You will not be forgotten, in this life or the next. This is my final gift that I give you."

She drew his face back to hers, pressing her lips to his in a fiery, desperate kiss. Her words, her touch, her taste, everything felt seared into the very marrow of his bones. A burst of white light and ecstasy flooded through him, making him wonder for a second if he died.

When he opened his eyes, mind hazy as if intoxicated, it was to find himself alone. Frantic, he looked around. Yet there was nothing to show of her presence. Not even her discarded clothes lay on the floor anymore.

"No….no, no, no." He mumbled, refusing to believe she was gone…. but there was no denying the truth. Yet even as he sat there, tears still slipping down his cheeks, he could feel her presence with the absence of pain. He could still taste her on his tongue. Strength and vitality flowed through his crippled body in ways he had never felt before.

He was unsure how long he sat there before a quick knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It opened to reveal Hvitserk who cautiously stepped in, eyes scanning the room.

"You alright, brother?"

Ivar wondered at the stupid question then realized he must be referring to the evidence of tears still staining his cheeks. Hastily he wiped them away on his sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

"We thought we heard something…. I came to check on you." He tilted his head and scanned the room once again. "Where is she?"

Ivar turned his face to the fire, without answering. How could he explain all that just occurred without sounding mad? That a glorious being chose him, used him for her pleasure and then gave him priceless gifts. No, no one would believe that. This was a memory, a present for him alone to cherish.

"You know if you need advice with pleasuring a woman, I am more than willing to help. They do call me the love guru." Hvitserk chuckled but immediately silenced at the stony glare Ivar sent his way. "Um, right. Well, I'll head back out." He started to walk away but stopped at Ivar's call.

"Wait!" When Hvitserk turned back around, Ivar swallowed thickly then continued. "What…. what color are my eyes?"

The flaxen-haired brother moved closer. "Um, blue…. a vibrant blue…. they almost look like they are glowing but with a veil over them. I've never seen them like that before. Are you feeling alright? Do you want help getting to your bed?"

Ivar smiled longingly, his chest squeezing at his brother's words. "No….no, I feel… I feel great, Hvitty."

"Um, sure. Do you need anything?"

"No, you can go back out to the feast."

"Okay, good night, Ivar."

Ivar did not answer, only just hearing the door closing as turned back to face the dancing flames. His mind drifted to thinking about her, his beauty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something nestled between the furs. Carefully he maneuvered himself over to gently grab it, curiosity pushing him forward despite caution. Cradling it in his hand like a priceless treasure, he now could see what it was; a pendant, only the size of his thumb, but it was in the color and shape of a full moon and an etching that matched the tattoo of the flower between her breasts.

"Y/n." He whispered, as if prompted by something to say her name. To his surprise, the pendant glowed faintly for a moment, so reminiscent of her eyes before dulling back.

"Thank you." He slipped his necklace off with Thor's hammer and added the pendant. Once back on his neck, he lifted the pendant and kissed it, only to stifle a moan as the faintest hints of her taste tingled on his lips.

Feeling euphoric, he laid back on the pile of furs, pressing the pendant to his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every moment with her. He prayed that he could see her once again, either in this life or in Valhalla. For he knew, there would never be another like her. He had no idea who or what she was, only the name she gave him. A name that would be branded upon his heart and soul for all eternity.

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