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brightlycoloredteacups · 7 years ago

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As You Wish

Pairing: Ylva x Brynhilda

Series: In Another Life

Tagging: @anunhealthydoseofangst

Warnings: NSFW

It had been thrown about before, the words, “One should be married to their equal” and “You’re my rock.” Ylva had heard them many a times from her new family. They made her rather uncomfortable, for many reasons.

She looks up at her wife, Brynhilda. The most beautiful woman in all the world. She was most beautiful naked, in their bed, her black hair spread out on the pillows as her chest heaves as Ylva pleasures her. This was a close second.

Brynhilda sat straight on her throne, her done in an ornate braid, jewels sparkling in the fire light. Her face was stone, green eyes giving nothing away, their fingers were entwined. She cut such an imposing figure, struck fear into weak men’s hearts, made the strong doubt themselves. Gods, how Ylva loved this woman. How perfectly mismatched they were.

Brynhilda was perfection personified. She was always poised, unreadable. She always had a plan of action. She said the right things at the right time. She was smart, witty, cunning, strong. Stronger than a human had the right to be. Her father boasted it was the blood of Freyr running through her veins, you had only to look at her miraculous battlefield feats and understand this to be true.

Ylva was nothing compared to her. She was a small woman that had trouble walking. She never knew what to say, and often remained quiet. An ugly little thing with scars and twisted kneecaps, dumb as she was useless. Ylva longed to be nothing more than Brynhilda’s equal, but it was not meant to be. Ylva would always hold her wife back. Some days, she thought about leaving her wife, disappearing into the forest and never returning, but she couldn’t bear the thought of living without Brynhilda. Selfish of her, she knew, but she was a selfish woman.

The man finishes his request, and Brynhilda is silent for a moment. “I will consider Lagertha’s offer,” She says. The man, haughty over his appointment as the intermediary between Lagertha and Brynhilda says, “Don’t take too long, you know your queen doesn’t enjoy waiting.” At this, the grip on Ylva’s hand tightens. Upset on her wife’s behalf, Ylva snaps at him. “You would do well to remember that Brynhilda is a queen in her own right, and Lagertha is not her ruler.” Everyone in the room chuckles, even Brynhilda. “As I told you,” Brynhilda says, raising Ylva’s hand to give it a kiss, “I will consider Lagertha’s offer. You have room prepared for you. Mother?” A woman that looks so much like Brynhilda, with the exception of brown eyes, stands. “This way.” Camila says, leading the man from the room. Others shuffle out with her.

It’s Brynhilda’s brothers and father now that surround them, each one wearing the identical looks of anger. “We can’t go to war.” Her father says. “I know,” Brynhilda mutters. “We have to, or Lagertha may get it in her mind that we’re her enemies.” Brynki, the youngest son, and by far the wisest, advises. “I know.” Brynhilda says again, anger seeping into her tone. “But think of our people!” Brynjulfr the Compassionate says. “Get out!” She snaps, not wanting to hear this any longer. Her father and brothers know better than to argue with her. They shuffle from the room, closing the doors to the great hall behind them.

Brynhilda is up from her chair in an instant, pacing back and forth. She’s muttering to herself in her mother’s tongue, brows furrowed in worry. She stops, goes still suddenly, then let’s out a vicious growl before turning the Ylva. Her green eyes were ablaze. “My love,” Brynhilda says softly. “My love tell me what to do.” She kneels in front of Ylva, gripping her tiny hands in rough ones. “My queen, my reason for living, tell me what I should do. I’ll do it. I need guidance and I only trust you to guide me.” Ylva’s face flushes red. What could she possibly say?

“Brynhilda I-” she pauses, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me you’re as lost as I am love, you’ve always been the decision maker in our relationship.” Brynhilda rests her cheek on Ylva’s knee. “You always have an opinion. Please, I’m begging you, please,” Her voice cracks with emotion. Ylva’s heart goes out to her wife, ruling was difficult. Even in Brynhilda’s time of need, Ylva couldn’t help but think, was this the way Brynhilda really saw her?

Flushed and very pleased, Ylva is quiet for a long time, thinking it over. It wasn’t just about the resources, it was about the people too. Lagertha had brought them into battle after battle. The people were heart sick and wanted to be left to peace. But Brynhilda made a promise to serve Lagertha as faithfully as she could. Was destroying your own people worth it? “Our promise to our subjects is what matters the most,” Ylva says, speaking from her heart. “We need to look out for them first, and for everyone else second.”

Brynhilda lifts her head to look at her, green eyes shining. Love replaced the anger. “We don’t go to war.” Ylva says. “Yes,” Brynhilda mutters, “Yes, we don’t go to war.” She leans back up on her knees and pulls Ylva into a passionate kiss. It’s sloppy, more teeth than tongue, but it thrills Ylva. Brynhilda pulls back from her, breathe heavy. “My wise wife,” She murmurs. “the most beautiful woman to walk the earth.” Ylva whimpers at the praise, pressing another kiss to Brynhilda’s lips. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, but I need you so much.”

Brynhilda grabs the edges of Ylva’s dress and tugs harshly, tearing the fabric apart. Ylva gasps. Brynhilda immediately attacks Ylva chest, leaving love bites wherever her lips landed. “Brynie,” Ylva moans, latching onto Brynhilda’s dark hair. She’s so aroused she can’t even be mad at the dress. “Brynie, what if someone walks in and sees us?”

Brynhilda pulls back from a breast, making sure to drag her teeth over a nipple before letting go completely. “Then they will see a wife,” Brynhilda mutters, hiking up Ylva’s skirts. She places kisses to the twisted knee caps, rubbing the ache from the for a few moments. “eagerly pleasing her Queen.” Brynhilda kisses her way up Ylva’s thighs, throwing the blondes legs over her shoulders. “What will people say?” Ylva says, a little self-conscious. They’ve made love many places, in tents, battlefields, hell, right in front of everyone in their wedding night, but in the great hall…where anyone could see…

“People will say they are jealous of me, to have such a sweet and beautiful wife.” Brynhilda adjusts Ylva to the edge of the seat and gives her cunt a long, slow lick. Ylva leans back, moaning. “A strong wife, who’s survived much and yet retained her compassion. A wife who is intelligent, and loving, and giving.” Ylva’s legs begin to shake at the pleasure Brynhilda brings. The praise warms Ylva through, she doesn’t have time to wonder if Brynhilda is just speaking from her ass, she’s too pleased with how things are going.

Brynhilda falls silent as she busies herself in Ylva’s pussy. Ylva moans at the wet smacking noises coming from between her legs. The hungry grunts and tight grip never fail to make her feel wanted. It’s not long before Ylva’s hips are bucking into Brynhilda’s face, too concerned with chasing her pleasure than allowing Brynhilda to breathe.

Brynhilda comes out from underneath Ylva’s dress. Standing, she takes Ylva off her throne and settles on her own, Ylva sideways on her lap. She rips the rest of Ylva’s dress off, leaving her bare for all to see. “I want to see my wife writhe in pleasure.” Brynhilda says, running her fingers down Ylva’s belly, past the dark blonde thatch of hair, and straight into her cunt. Ylva moans. “I want my wife to cry and moan with pleasure.” Brynhilda slides her fingers from Ylva, circling the clit lazily. Ylva goes limp in Brynhilda’s strong arms, giving up to the pleasure.

It’s slow, torturous, and Ylva wants to scream with frustration, but she knows the end result will be worth it. All the while, Brynhilda is praising her wife. Telling her how beautiful she is, letting her know how much she loves her. It’s amazing, it’s almost too much, Ylva feels as though she’s going to break she’s wound so tight.

That familiar feeling of pleasure rushes through her. Shaking again with the force of it all, she clings to Brynhilda, whimpering words of love. When Ylva goes limp again, Brynhilda takes her fingers out and licks them clean. She shifts Ylva one more time. The blonde’s legs over either side of hers. The pressure on Ylva’s sensitive clit begs to be intensified. Brynhilda looks at her expectantly. This is a new position. “I don’t know what to do,” Ylva admits. “It’s ok my love,” Brynhilda whispers, smiling softly at her. “Let me show you.” She takes Ylva’s hips in hand, and pushes her back, then brings her forward. “Oh,” Ylva says, gripping her wife’s shoulder at the new sensation. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.” Brynhilda reminds her.

Ylva gives her hips an experimental roll. “Oh,” She says again, liking it very much. Brynhilda’s hands simply rest on her wife’s hips as Ylva sets her own pace, eager to see how this is going to play out. This time, Brynhilda is silent, intent on watching Ylva’s pleasure. “Can you do something for me my love?” Brynhilda whispers. “Anything,” Ylva stutters, barely registering the question. “Take a hand of yours and play with a breast for me.” Ylva follows her wife’s instructions automatically. This is also new, Brynhilda had never overtly told her what to do before. She can’t help herself but go along with it.

Ylva twists a nipple, whimpering. It’s so different doing it on your own. She hears Brynhilda growl. Looking up at her wife, Ylva is shocked to see so much lust there. She only get’s that look when there’s blood involved. Talk about motivation. Ylva slows her actions, exaggerates them. She feels emboldened by the lust in her wife’s eyes, she decided to put on a show.

It seems to be very effective. Brynhilda’s grip on Ylva’s hips tighten ever so slightly, and her breathing becomes heavier. “Finish Ylva,” she growls. Before Ylva can come up with a smart comment, Brynhilda leans in and kisses her deeply. “And don’t you dare think about teasing me. I’m going to have you, and no one is going to stop me.” Ylva giggles, excited at the prospects of being taken again and again by her lover. Ylva gives her one last, lingering kiss and says, “As you wish, your highness.”

#vikings #in another life #keeping promises x brynhilda's saga #ylva x brynhilda #oc x oc

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salt-is-a-terrible-currency · 8 years ago

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Keeping promises 18

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/works

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17

Warnings: rape mention, abuse mention. Torture scene. Will get more explicit in later chapters.

Author’s note: the timeline is a bit different from the show. Here, Ivar was born long before before Ragnar made the deal with King Ecbert about starting a settlement. I’d say he was about 5 years old when the settlement was established. Also, the timejump in the middle of season 4 lasted long enough for the relevant characters to reach whatever the age of consent is in your country. Where I live it’s 15, I don’t know about other countries. Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors, English isn’t my native language.

Chapter 18

”Have you and Sigurd reached a decision yet?” Ubbe slumped down on the ground next to his brother. Hvitserk nodded without looking up from the sword that laid across his lap.

“Yes. We will go to Björn as soon as he is done speaking with Floki.” He continued polishing the weapon.

“And what have you decided?” Ubbe pressed on. Hvitserk finally looked up from the sword, and he squinted his eyes in the strong sunlight.

“Sigurd will marry the princess. My heart belongs to someone else.” Ubbe thought back to his wedding night, late that spring. He could still see clearly how his wife had undressed in front of them and beckoned for both of them to come to bed.

“And it doesn’t bother you that if Margrethe have children, they will be presented as mine? You won’t have any heirs, little brother.”

“I will be a loving uncle to any child she might bear.”

“Is that enough for you?” Hvitserk’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Are you trying to have Margrethe all for yourself? I thought you said you weren’t jealous.”

“I’m not. I just want to make sure that you understand what you’re giving up. A princess, children, lands and a title.” Hvitserk scoffed “All of these are good things, things that you should strive to have.” Ubbe persisted.

“I don’t want to stay here and rule, I want to go home.”

“And Sigurd doesn’t want that?”

“He’s itching to get away from the memory of our mother, and from Ivar. He thinks this is his chance to show himself superior to our twisted little brother.” Ubbe pursed his lips.

“You shouldn’t say such things.”

“It’s not like he can hear…”

“He is family, and we shouldn’t speak about family in that way.” Ubbe said firmly.

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Floki tore off a piece of meat and stuffed it in his mouth. Ivar hadn’t come to see him after his return from Rhodri, and it shocked him. Floki had expected him to show up at the tent almost immediately, with plans for how to get their hands on the next man on Ylva’s list. It seemed that there were other things occupying the prince’s mind now. Floki had heard from one of the shieldmaidens that Ivar and Ylva had been fighting, and that Ivar had taken his rage out on some of Rhodri’s possessions. But they had reconciled and seemed closer than ever. Floki studied Helga, who was sitting behind Tanaruz and braiding her hair. If she saw Tanaruz, and previously Ylva, as her daughters then he considered Ivar his son. Or at least very close to a son. Maybe it was for the best that Ivar had stayed away. In his absence, Helga had started to warm up to Floki again. Last night she’d even let him into their bed again, allowed him to touch her. But not even all of Helga’s love could change the fact that he had been pushed aside by his dead friend’s son. And soon Björn would be leaving him too. Ironside was already itching to move on; Ecbert wasn’t even dead yet, the army hadn’t reached Wessex, and Björn spoke about his plans for going on another raid to the Mediterranean once he had avenged his father. So Floki had to decide: stay with Ivar, even though he might not ever hold the same place in the boy’s heart again, even though it might strain his marriage even more. Or he could go with Björn, and build boats that would take him further than any Viking had gone before. Of course, this meant that he would have to leave Ivar behind. Floki still believed in what he had said to Helga; Ragnar’s youngest son was the one that needed him the most, whether he realized it or not.

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Blaeja curiously studied the way Ivar behaved around Ylva. She had heard stories around the camp, and she had seen the way he acted around his brothers. He was, by all accounts, a short-tempered and cruel man. But not around Ylva. He still had an aura of impatience and would sometimes sulk when things didn’t go his way. But his eyes softened, his japes came out more light-hearted and he would sometimes carefully touch Ylva’s hand or leg. Blaeja understood that the only reason Ivar had agreed to help her, was because this skinny and tormented girl wanted him to. Well, maybe the possibility that it would annoy his brothers played a part in it too.

“And King Harald Finehair and his brother, Halfdan the Black, they wanted to overthrow my father. Harald wishes to be king of Norway, so if you are to marry one of my brothers you will need to keep an eye on those two. They will want to rid themselves of all Ragnar’s heirs so that no one can challenge their rise to the throne.” Ivar tried to speak as clearly as he could, but Ylva still had to help with translating when he forgot a word or pronounced something in such a crude way that Blaeja didn’t understand. The two young women had spent most of the day honing their language skills. After they had eaten a lighter meal at midday, Ivar had joined them to share what he knew about the different leaders. Now, Ylva stood up and said that she needed to relieve herself. As soon as she had slipped outside, Ivar’s posture changed. He placed his elbows on the table and leaned in. He started speaking in a low voice, the words came out slow and some of them were barely intelligible. But Blaeja certainly understood the essence of his words.

“You, and any children you might have, won’t be safe just because you are across the sea. In the future, you might find yourself thinking that surrendering yourself to Harald and his brother is a good opportunity to rid yourself of a husband that you never wanted, and a way to spare the lives of both yourself and your children.” Blaeja grabbed on to the armrests of her chair and tried to steady her hands, uncomfortable with the sudden change in Ivar. “But don’t forget, little princess, that they too will want Northumbria. Halfdan will kill your children, then he will take you as his wife so that he can have his own offspring seated on the Saxon throne one day. And since Ylva is connected to me, she will be dead and buried, no longer able to protect you. So I advise you to stay loyal to my family, for your own good.” He glanced at her, noticing her trembling hands and her rapid blinking.

“Do not look so frightened, Blaeja. I thought you were a fighter.” Ivar seemed both amused and disappointed.

“Maybe you are mistaken.” She whispered in return.

“I was there when you asked to see your brother one last time. I saw you walk to Björn, head held high. And I heard you taking lessons from Ylva. Why would you do these things if you didn’t intend on making the best of the situation, hmm? You accepted that you couldn’t stop Rhodri from giving you away, and then you decided that you are going to do whatever you can to not perish here. You decided to fight.” Blaeja wasn’t sure how to respond to this, and Ivar seemed satisfied with his comments, so they stayed in silence until Ylva returned. Ylva had just slumped back down in her chair when they were interrupted.

“Princess!” Sigurd strode inside, closely followed by Eadgar. Sigurd stopped abruptly when he saw Ivar sitting at the table.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was asked to come, so I did.” Sigurd looked as if he had more to say on the matter, but he bit his tongue and asked Eadgar to translate.

“Princess Blaeja, come with me to the main tent. My brother and I have reached a decision and are going to speak to Björn.” Blaeja composed herself. She locked eyes with the blonde man and nodded.

“I will come. Thank you for escorting me.” Blaeja stood up and smoothed the fabric of her dress. She glanced at her two teachers and smiled softly as she spoke in their language “Thank you for the lessons. I hope we can continue some other time.” Ylva beamed with pride. Ivar tilted his head to the side and watched as the princess followed his brother and the priest. Just before they disappeared, he called out to Blaeja.

“Your pronunciation is getting better.” Her cheeks flushed red, she wasn’t sure how to react when his mood switched back and forth like this. So she briefly bowed her head and then continued walking.

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“I think it is best if Sigurd teaches you from now on, so that you two can spend some time together before the wedding.”

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to offend but…Ylva is nearly fluent, it will be much easier for me to learn with her and Eadgar as my teachers.” Sigurd saw Björn clench his jaw and decided to speak up before his brother did something to scare the girl.

“What if all three of us were to help Blaeja? If I am to stay here, I need to learn the Saxon’s language as well. We could teach each other.” Björn took a few seconds to consider his brother’s words.

“I suppose that could work. What do you say?” He asked Blaeja. She would’ve preferred being alone with Ylva, there were so many questions that she wanted answered in private. But I’m not a prisoner, not truly. No one has forbidden me from leaving my tent and speaking to her, Blaeja thought to herself.

“I agree.” She answered.

“I have one condition.” Sigurd let his eyes sweep across the room before locking on to Blaeja. The strange mark in his eye made her want to look away, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. Hell, if she could keep herself from breaking down when Ivar spoke about potential threats in her future, then simply looking at her soon-to-be husband shouldn’t be that difficult.

“Ivar can’t be there.” Björn furrowed his brows and asked something that Blaeja didn’t understand. Sigurd leaned towards his brother and muttered something. She picked up a few of the words and realized that Sigurd was telling Björn about how he had found Ivar partaking in the lesson earlier. Blaeja saw Hvitserk’s face twist into a confused expression and Björn’s features set into a scowl. The tension was rising at an alarming rate.

“I accept that condition. He won’t join us.” Blaeja said hurriedly. Sigurd sat back in his chair again.

“Then I will come find you tomorrow. But for now, I want Eadgar to accompany you to the seamstress, you’ll need something to wear at the ceremony.”

#vikings #vikings fanfic #keeping promises #keeping promises 18 #ivar the boneless #original female character

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