#@fabulous-peasent

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is starting to realize how far her husband is willing to to bring her home.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Escaping Kattegat successfully had felt like a God ordained miracle; like the Lord himself was rewarding you for keeping faith. His Grace had put Floki’s home within walking distance from Ivar’s estate, had moved Amund and Earl Sven to kindness.

Now you were unsure if you would receive another life saving miracle.

Floki wasn’t here and neither was Amund, the Earl had already let you know that he wouldn’t hesitate to hand you over. In his mind  you were an escaped thrall, a lost piece of property he found too insignificant to protect. 

So what could you do?

The ship was already docked, meaning it wouldn’t be moved for at least a few days before it departed again. The crew would need to rest before setting sail again, meaning they would be in the markets, taverns, Great Hall and, if anyone had fallen ill on the journey, even the Healing Huts.

‘(Y/N)? What troubles you?’ Kendra asked in concern.

‘When did that ship arrive and where is the crew?’ you asked urgently, gripping her by the arms.

‘It arrived just before noon, the Earl was furious with a warship being so bold; he demanded council immediately. Everyone has been whispering through the city, conflict rumors and the like.’

Conflict?

Would Ivar go so far as to start war with an ally, just to capture you?

‘Are they in the Hall now? Where are they now, Kendra?’ you begged.

Kendra’s look of concern was unmasked as she looked around the shed, it was still pretty empty, most of the thralls with more demanding tasks still out working.

‘They are still in the Hall, their meeting was not short from what I’ve heard. Still they were granted hospitality while they rest and prepare for the journey back home. (Y/N) tell me now, are you in danger, Sister?’ she asked directly.

‘Yes, and I need to leave now. Not one man from that ship can set eyes on me.’ you confided, desperate for some type of earthly support in this terrifying moment.

You wouldn’t have survived, yet alone escaped if Floki and Amund hadn’t aided you; and as much as you regretted putting them at risk, you knew getting captured now would only negate their sacrifice.

So now, you would take any assistance you could get, even though you knew you weren't as likely to get away a second time.

This time the situation was not set up for your success at all; there was no ally you could go to, you had no access to a ship already leaving and now you didn’t even have noble status to buy protection. Your only accessible options were to either try to make it to the next village and pray the search doesn’t expand that far, or try to hide deep in the woods and hope they will overlook you.

Neither one seemed likely to succeed.

If Ivar had expanded his search this far, why wouldn’t he have his men search the neighboring settlements? If these men have been receiving his wrath for the entirety of your absence, there is no chance of them being lax in their efforts.

Kendra, of course, did not know fully what was in your head, but she could see your panic rising as your mind raced.

‘How…how far are you willing to go to leave?’ she asked seriously.

Her tone, the look in her eye and sweat on her brow gave it all away; Kendra knew a way out and she always has.

‘As far as my body will take me before it drops. Sister, if you know a way out of the city I beg you to tell me.’

‘I can’t, not alone, we need the others. Megan is bathing in the river, fetch her, and me and Dawn will meet you at the butcher’s house. Quickly, before Hilda makes her way back from inspections.’ Kendra said in a hurried tone as she stood up, pulling you up with her.

‘Do not run, don’t bring any attention to your movement, stay as out of sight as possible, speak to no one.’ she whispered as she casually led you out of the shed.

As soon as the two of you were out of the shed Kendra’s entire body language changed; she was no longer closely huddled to your side conspiratorially and her worried face immediately softened to its usual youthful smile.

‘Thank you so much for helping me, Hilda would be furious if she knew I’d lost one. We’ll have better chances splitting up, so we can both meet back here and hopefully one of us has some good luck.’ she smiled brightly before she took off for the Great Hall.

You were momentarily confused, but you had no time to wonder what Kendra was talking about or if it was some kind of coded message, you needed to get Megan.

From the Slave’s Shed almost the whole city was accessible, the constant flow of thralls meant you could find a footpath leading anywhere that slaves were needed. So getting to the river where most thralls and peasant women bathe wasn’t an issue, but trying to not run was a hard task.

As you walked you kept your head low, but tried to look like you were looking for something in order to keep up the lie Kendra announced. In reality you were making sure you didn’t see any familiar Kattegat faces.

You followed Kendra’s instructions and didn’t call any attention to yourself at all, your body remembering exactly how to blend into a crowd without being noticed.

The river was in the woods behind the market square, which was thankfully not busy as the sun was setting. Most vendors and merchants were packing away for the day as you passed them, and you heard their conversation.

‘I thought for sure it was gonna be a fight when that ship pulled in! All for nothing! Just a cripple who can’t keep a woman!’ an old man griped as he put away his dried fish.

There was a younger man helping him, probably an apprentice since you didn’t recognize him from the shed.

‘And pathetic enough to chase her across the world.’ the young man laughed.

Their words made your stomach almost lurch.

Still you didn’t increase your speed or stray from your path to the river, at last you arrived and found Megan in the water weeping silently.

‘Megan?’ you called softly, looking around to make sure the two of you were truly alone.

She turned to you, startled, and you saw the redness of her eyes and briefly wished you could soothe her right now.

However, you simply didn’t have that luxury.

‘Get out of the water now, get dressed quickly.’ you instructed as you stood on the banks.

‘What is-’

‘No time, we are leaving tonight and I need you to get dressed now Megan!’ you snapped before she could ask questions.

To her credit, Megan got out of the water immediately and dressed quickly without any further questions. She had a look in her eyes and you imagined that your face looked the same way when you decided to leave Ivar’s estate.

Once she had gotten back into her shoes you took her hand tightly in your own and began leading her to the butcher’s home.

You could see uncertainty in Megan’s eyes, but she followed, letting you lead her to what she prayed was a safe haven from her life as a bed warmer.

The butcher was a very wealthy man and his home reflected it. Of course it was close enough to the markets, and it was one of the largest homes outside of nobility.

Now that you had made it here you realized with absolute horror that Kendra hadn’t given you any further instruction past this point.

You didn’t know if you should wait outside the front entrance, or hide behind the house; Dear Lord you didn’t even know if the butcher would punish unclaimed thralls on his property.

Just as a panic was beginning to form in your head, the door opened and Dawn invited them in as if she were the lady of the house. Standing boldly at the entrance and well dressed, if not for her face still being smudged with ashes from cooking today you wouldn’t know she was just a slave.

‘Come in! Quickly before I have you both lashed!’ she barked coldly.

Her harsh tone snapped you out of your confused stupor, you and Megan hurried inside.

Kendra was here as well, but she didn’t seem at all confused about Dawn’s familiarity with the butcher’s home. Inside the decor was impressive, the hearth burning strong as a boar was roasted on a spit, the tempting scent filling the room. The butcher gave it a turn before facing you all directly but his eyes were very focused on you in particular.

He was a big bearded man, with mostly greying hair but he was clearly still able bodied enough to earn his living.

‘Before anything happens you will answer me honestly girl.’ he said.

You nodded.

‘Are you the Princess them warriors are here to take back to your husband, Ivar the Boneless, Son of Ragnar?’

Of course you knew logically that the crew would explain why they were here, but you weren’t prepared to be questioned. Still, you needed help and lying wouldn’t help you now.

‘Yes.’ you confessed.

You felt Megan release your hand and she turned to look at you with hurt and betrayed eyes, but you took her hand again and held it firm.

‘I am (Y/N), Princess Consort of Kattegat. My husband is a cruel man, more cruel than any man you have ever laid your eyes on. He forced me into marriage, he raped me, he humiliated me and he burned my posessions to ash. I stowed away in a box for weeks and chose to be a slave rather than his wife. I am begging you, please do not turn us away.’ you answered.

You hoped that he’d believe you, but you prayed Megan would see that you hadn’t meant to lie or betray her, that every second you spent at her side in silent solidarity was real.

The butcher cursed and sat down in a large chair as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

‘Finn?’

This time it was Dawn who spoke up, she walked over to the man’s side and placed a practiced hand onto his.

‘You promised, you promised and I’ve agreed.’ she said seriously but in a very soothing tone.

‘Everyone stop!’ Megan shouted before Finn the butcher could respond to Dawn.

All eyes were on her now, she looked like a shivering lamb that had fallen into a pond. Her hair was still wet and she was shaking from the cold, but she didn’t look scared. She looked frustrated and confused as she watched her fellow Christian Sister be so familiar with a heathen.

‘Tell me what is happening. Dawn, why are you dressed like that, are we escaping or not?’ she asked.

Dawn and Kendra shared a look before Dawn sighed.

‘Meeting you girls has been my biggest blessing in all the years I’ve lived as a slave, and I never want you to forget that.’ the older woman began as she walked over to you and Megan.

‘You three are escaping.’ Dawn explained.

‘Are you not coming with us?’ you asked.

‘Finn has sent a messenger to the Great Hall, he has paid the Earl for my freedom and blessings for our marriage.’

Marriage?

You looked behind Dawn at the butcher who was still rubbing his eyes in his chair. Dawn was going to marry this Pagan to grant you safe passage out of the city, just as you had married Ivar to save your Sisters back home.

‘You can not do this.’ you rejected.

‘It is done, as his wife I have the authority over thralls. We are going to send you to Herning, Finn has family there that will publicly grant you all freedom. The journey will be long, but there are two horses he-’ Dawn explained hastily before Finn took her hand in his, effectively interrupting her.

‘We…have two horses to spare and can give you all cloaks and food for the road.’ the man said firmly; immediately you understood why he was helping and why Dawn hadn’t taken his aid earlier.

Finn loved her; must have been in love for a long time too if he was willing to smuggle Earl Sven’s slaves out of Brande. Dawn accepting his hand in marriage only now, when it was your only chance of survival, made you feel like you had personally damned her soul and life. 

‘Sister Dawn, I cannot accept you doing this for me.’ you said, the guilt already crushing your lungs.

Dawn smiled sweetly, in that motherly way that she often did as she placed a kiss on your cheek. She did the same with Megan and Kendra, who both still looked like they were holding their breath waiting for this incomplete plan to fail.

‘Please do not weep or grieve for me. I have loved this man since I first caught him shorting me on the pork, he is a good man and I trust he will treat me well as his wife.’ the older woman assured, sending her new husband a smile you don’t think you could ever imitate.

‘Why? If you love him, why have you been slaving all these years?’ Megan asked incredulously.

‘I had my faith, and you all…and because I was afraid to love a heathen, afraid to be married to one and become one. Now I can keep you all safe and marry a big old fool that loves me even when our Gods disagree.’

Of all the strange and foreign things you had seen since you had been dragged away from England, this was by far the most unbelievable. A truly happy marriage between a Christian and a Viking.

A male slave came into the home, not bothering to knock, or more so being unable to as his arms were full of modest fur cloaks. The man was clearly a field hand, being large and clearly well fed to become so visibly strong. He was maybe Kendra’s age, nineteen, with blond braided hair and green eyes that never met anyone else’s.

‘Good lad! Hand them out quickly, we must get you all out of the city before people begin leaving the feast.’ Finn instructed.

The feast. You had been so concerned with simply following Kendra’s instructions that you had forgotten that there was a feast taking place in the Great Hall at this very moment. Hilda was probably already taking notice of the absence of four slaves, hopefully the feast would keep her too busy to spare sending anyone to look for you all.

You were handed a fox fur cloak and you quickly put it on, noting that this commoner's fur was the finest and warmest material you had worn since arriving in Brande.

‘It’s only just started by the look of things, the streets are nearly empty. We have enough time to prepare the horses and nothing else. I will saddle them now.’ the slave reported as he tried to leave, but the butcher stopped him with a whistle.

‘These women are to be your companions and charges; they are dear friends to my wife. I am holding you personally responsible for their safety, Rolf.’ Finn warned severely.

The slave named Rolf, nodded and left just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

‘Are we leaving here? Really and truly leaving this place to go be free somewhere else?’ Megan asked, her voice nearly shaking in her hope.

‘Yes, we are leaving, it is up to God to decide if we make it to freedom.’ Kendra said, as she held on to her worrying friend’s hands in support.

‘Freedom.’ you said.

Have you ever truly had freedom? When you were back home you were not free to choose a husband, in Kattegat your husband Ivar owned the air in your lungs and in Denmark you were an actual slave. Could you really go somewhere new and actually be allowed to make your own choices? 

Choose what you will be doing, what you will eat,  who you will meet, praying in peace even if it's only in the safety of your own humble home.

‘(Y/N).’ Megan called out to you weakly.

‘I am sorry, I couldn’t tell you the truth. I-’ you began to apologize.

‘I understand, you never lied to me. Even if he is your husband, if he treated you like a bed warmer then that is life you escaped. God knows the sins we commit and the sins done against us.’ she smiled as she hugged you tightly.

Soon you felt Kendra and Dawn join in and you just felt them there with you, and you revelled in the fellowship.  

‘Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for guiding us to find each other when we were in our darkest moments. We pray you will watch over us and all who have shown us kindness, let them be healthy and prosper here on Earth. Amen.’ you prayed aloud.

You looked up and saw that Rolf had returned and both he and Finn looked uncomfortable with your openly Christian display.

‘And may the Gods bless you both, may they keep your fields plentiful and your fishing nets full.’ you said sincerely.

These men were not Christian, but they were kind and you were truly thankful for their help. They were putting not only their reputations in Brande at risk by freeing slaves, but their lives as well if Ivar’s men found you.

‘May the Gods watch over you all as well, now it's time. Follow Rolf, he knows the way and he knows how to stay out of sight.’ Finn smiled appreciatively.

For the last time you looked over Dawn’s face, searching for any sign that she was not doing this willingly.

Her face was flustered as she hastily helped secure Megan’s cloak, but there were no tears or any of the general puffiness that crying brings. Her hands were not shaking and whenever she glanced over at Sven only gratitude and love was visible in her expression.

Even as Megan and Kendra followed your guide out into the night, you watched the couple.

‘He will not harm me.’ she assured.

Deciding to believe her, if only to placate yourself, you followed your new band of refugees.

‘Hurry this way to stables.’  Rolf ordered before walking off.

You all followed close behind, your heads turning every which way looking out for spying eyes. Rolf did not turn his head once, as if he knew there was no possibility that anyone would dare spy on the noble butcher’s lands.

The stable was astoundingly far from the main longhouse, or at least if felt that way. By the time you had finally set eyes on it up close your thighs were burning. Rolf pulled a carrot out of the cargo one of two saddled horses was hauling.

‘We’ll have to ride doubles.’ he said, not looking back at you as he split the carrot to give both the horses a treat before the journey truly began.

Megan gripped your arm fiercely, and of course you understood why. After only knowing pain from a man’s touch it can become difficult to have any contact with men, she couldn’t ride with Rolf.

You and Kendra looked over at each other and silently Kendra agreed she would ride with the Viking.

Rolf helped you all mount then gave instructions on how to lead the horses and stay saddled if they took off running.

Once he was done with his rushed warnings he commanded his and Kendra’s horse to begin walking, you and Megan followed behind him much less gracefully. You had never properly ridden a horse before, but you found it enjoyable immediately.

The bounce as the horse walked the uneven path, the wind blowing in your face and hair, and the thought that God sent this animal to carry his children to safe haven.

Rolf led your group away from the Great Hall and market, instead you entered the woods leading to the river you had dragged Megan away from nearly an hour ago. However, Rolf did not follow the foot path, instead he passed it by.

‘We will follow the river until nightfall, when we stop to rest the horses we will wash to try covering our scent before we leave. The Earl will need permission from the neighboring Earl to search his lands, by the time it's granted we should be in Herning.’ the man informed.

‘Shouldn’t we wash the scent now? That way they can’t follow us the whole way out of the city?’ Kendra asked.

‘No, he’s right. If we are found while we’re still on his land, it won’t matter if the scent is on us or not. Earl Sven will turn me over to my husband and then do Lord knows what else to the rest of you. We need to put as much distance between us and here as we possibly can before sunrise.’ you replied.

The ride was quiet and tense, no one daring to speak, everyone of you listening closely for approaching footsteps. Even Rolf, who walked so confidently to the stables, was now turning his head occasionally as he led the way.

On and on it went, the tense silence as you all crept through the night following the flow of the river. Every time the wind rustled the leaves one of you looked to make sure it wasn’t guards catching up to you.

It was only after the sun began its rise on to a brand new day did you all breathe a small sigh of relief. It had been a tense eight hours on horseback, but you had survived the night. 

You would not be waking up to Hilda’s stick today, and she would not be giving you orders; she no longer had that power over you.

Because you were no longer a slave, not quite yet a free woman…but you were certainly not a slave anymore.

[bowserbowser29]

Random idea I had that'll also be my only real hint for the last Amycule member

Amycule pairings as Mario Party team names

And, beware, under the cut is 78 unique names, so it's gonna be long

Amy + Blaze: Sugar & Spice

Amy + Surge: Mean Girls

Amy + Trip: Sweetie Pies

Amy + Honey: Sugar High

Amy + Tikal: Green Thumb

Amy + Gold: Mindful Lovers

Amy + Gala: Juicy Apples

Amy + Jian: Better Together

Amy + ???: Ring Racers

Amy + Undina: Free Spirited Adventurers

Amy + Echo: Water Lilies

Amy + Sonar: Desert Flowers

Blaze + Surge: Fire Power

Blaze + Trip: Heating Lamp

Blaze + Honey: Mean Kitties

Blaze + Tikal: Immortal Heirs

Blaze + Gold: Molten Riches

Blaze + Gala: Princess and Peasent

Blaze + Jian: Cool and Collected

Blaze + ???: Red Hot Rings

Blaze + Undina: Royal Romantics

Blaze + Echo: Unfaithful Bodyguard

Blaze + Sonar: Hot & Dry

Surge + Trip: Bully Besties

Surge + Honey: Snarky Adversaries

Surge + Tikal: Good and Evil

Surge + Gold: Tenrec Terrors

Surge + Gala: Zap Apples

Surge + Jian: Baggy Brawlers

Surge + ???: Cufflinked

Surge + Undina: Royal Pain

Surge + Echo: Electrical Hazard

Surge + Sonar: Getting an Earful

Trip + Honey: Sweet Scales

Trip + Tikal: Chaos Consoles

Trip + Gold: Bold Bronzes

Trip + Gala: Fruit Fanatics

Trip + Jian: Brave and Bashful

Trip + ???: Sitting on Riches

Trip + Undina: Sharp Wits

Trip + Echo: Spear Specialists

Trip + Sonar: Quiet Ones

Honey + Tikal: Sleeper Picks

Honey + Gold: Goldmine

Honey + Gala: Cats and Dogs

Honey + Jian: Cats with Claws

Honey + ???: Fabulous Fashionistas

Honey + Undina: Freeform Designers

Honey + Echo: People Pleasers

Honey + Sonar: The Gossips

Tikal + Gold: Pacifist Partners

Tikal + Gala: Savoring Life

Tikal + Jian: Glimmering Hope

Tikal + ???: Flying Fortress

Tikal + Undina: Sunken Sweeties

Tikal + Echo: Honorable Warriors

Tikal + Sonar: Well Informed

Gold + Gala: Distressed Damsels

Gold + Jian: Brains and Brawn

Gold + ???: Five Golden Rings

Gold + Undina: At The End of a Rainbow

Gold + Echo: Buried Treasure

Gold + Sonar: Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil

Gala + Jian: Hard Workers

Gala + ???: Civilian Couple

Gala + Undina: Red Ripe Royalty

Gala + Echo: Dolphin Doggy

Gala + Sonar: Apple Pie Desert

Jian + ???: Tank Topped

Jian + Undina: Tiara Tiger

Jian + Echo: Up in Arms

Jian + Sonar: Tails Intertwined

??? + Undina: Mystery Species

??? + Echo: Caught a Big One

??? + Sonar: Lesser Known Lassies

Undina + Echo: Seafaring Sweethearts

Undina + Sonar: Peacekeepers

Echo + Sonar: Sound Waves

[fabulous-peasent]

Miranda. Is. So. Beautiful???

Who said she's allowed to look like that??

I can't- she's just-

You know??

[ask-reed-detroit]

14: do you miss someone? Love you! 💕

Life hasn’t really given me many people to miss, but I guess there is someone I can think of. My grandma, she died when I was 15. She was pretty open, I trusted her a lot, n’ I’d always talk to her about shit that I didn’t really trust anyone else with. 

[theadventuresofjezebel]

Yes, she knows she’s fabulous!

[camwritesshit-blog]

With Tumblr's upcoming policy changes, if anything happens to your blog where else can we find you? Because I'd hate to lose one of my favourite writers because Tumblr deems your blog too 'inappropriate'

fdhlfkajhd. I have an ao3 that i don’t really post everything to but in light of this will try to upload all my drabbles to at least? I don’t really play on any other platforms though...))

[softcallofdutyimagines]

This is for @fabulous-peasent who is an ENFP!

You scored a main character!!!!

ENFPs are known to be highly empathetic and receive a special fulfillment from helping others. Their naturally peaceful and empathetic nature, in all honesty, makes them a good match for basically anyone! But, for a truly fulfilling relationship, ISXJs come most recommended 👌🏻

While these two personality may seem to have nothing in common, ISXJs are mellow enough that, although they are quite opposite of ENFPs, the two can learn and grow from one another's strengths and weaknesses! This works out for ENFP as the happy helper of the personalities as well as the loyal and reserved ISTJ such as Roach here, who need stability and order to thrive

[givemeaslowdeath-wait]

Weird/random things that either I, my friends or some rando has said

"What's Shakespeare's last name?"

I like my legs, my legs are goals. I wish I had my legs.

Potatoes are the doctors of vegetables

You're literally the reason my parents think I'm gay

I had to give her [Hera] eyes like that cause she has to put up with Zeus' shit

"I like police dogs, you know the ones with ears" (she meant German sheppards)

"You know it's gay if I put headphones in"

[About goths] I'm sad so I'm gonna make a kink out of vampires

Oh no, both my knees are itchy. How am I supposed to walk?

I'm already on my 3rd coffee. I'm ready for death

My phone and my dad both think I'm gay and I can't convince them otherwise

THEY HAVE 3 ALPHABETS!!

"I had a dream about a pineapple last night" - dad after I told him the pineapple was too heavy for it's plant

Get Luigied

"Shia LeBeouf sounds like a fucking psychopath"

We don't hate you cause you're gay. We hate you cause you're you

Gay fidget spinner

The knives don't work!!

"Oh my god, we look like lesbians" "we do!"

I'm going to eat you out one day

I wish he'd kick ME like that

It's been 5 minutes and you're already covered in mud

Sorry @fabulous-peasent, but I had to tag you

[fabulous-peasent]

ever wondered what is your fantasy love language? no? take the quiz anyway

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Anymore? No, Less

Summary: Ubbe is starting to see why his wife is in such a rush to divorce him.

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Part Two

Ubbe didn’t know what he was expecting to find when he got home, but it certainly wasn’t this.

(Y/N) was sitting on the couch looking calmly over a thick stack of papers, there was a glass of white wine sitting half empty on the side table. 

‘(Y/N), please-’ he started.

‘Have you ever looked at the marriage contract? Or did you just sign when your Mom put my file on your desk?’ she asked, cutting him off.

Ubbe couldn’t even answer the question with certainty; he had been hungover when Aslaug had barged into his condo to inform him he wouldn’t get a cent of inheritance if he wasn’t married. The widowed woman threw down a file that contained your photo, medical history and the pages of the contract he needed to sign.

He wants to say that at some point, once he was sober; that he did look over the contract thoroughly, but that was five years ago. 

He couldn’t remember if he ever had.

‘Don’t feel too bad if you didn’t, clearly my lawyers didn’t look past the compensation before they put this in my hands either. I only looked through them after that damned reception, and what was I supposed to do then?’ she shrugged.

‘The ink was dry and I was already doomed to be your wife. A position that your mother clearly thinks requires strict rules. Listen to what all I agreed to when I married you.’ she said coolly as she sat back and picked up her glass of wine.

‘In signing this document, I am agreeing to the following… I will have no external affairs, nor will I entertain the notion.’ she began.

‘(Y/N)-’ he tried, but again she spoke over him.

‘I will uphold no social image without distinct direction; meaning no social media presence that is not approved by Ubbe Ragnarson directly. I will uphold a respectable image as to not negatively impact the public image of the Ragnarson Family and or their businesses. I will not have any private business ventures not contracted with the current Ragnarson Family law firm.’ she read before taking a sip.

‘This one is the best, this is how I knew someone in our legal department was going to be let go on my wedding day.’ she said as she sat the wine aside and went back to reading.

‘I will not conceive a child during the five year period of this agreement.’ she said, finally looking at him.

She held out a few pages that were paperclipped together.

‘This is a summarized version of it, but there’s a bunch more if you want to see it for yourself.’ she said as she waited for Ubbe to take the stack of papers.

‘I don’t understand, I never heard anything about there being conditions.’ he said honestly as he took them and began reading them over.

‘Every contract has conditions, even the one you signed.’ she smiled dryly as she picked up another, singular sheet of paper.

‘In signing this document I am agreeing to the following…I will not commit criminal offenses toward (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I will ensure her financial needs are met. That’s it.’ she said before she finished the last of her wine and stood up.

Ubbe felt like his head was visibly throbbing.

‘Your Mother and her lawyers buried those conditions in this enormous pile of papers to ensure I had no freedom and no voice, and all you had to agree to was not outright abusing me. And of course the penalty for violating the contract would cripple my family’s stock while barely inconveniencing yours.’ 

He looked through the pages; big long legal terms that no one cared about individually but when put all together put her in a web of red tape. Now he was certain he’d never looked at the contract before, this was practically criminal, but he knew his legal team knew how to do anything they were told. 

‘This doesn’t make sense…(Y/N) I swear I didn’t know any of this was in the contract.’ he said sincerely, desperate for her to believe him.

‘I know you didn’t, you didn’t care to know. You didn’t care at all and you made that clear from the beginning, but I want you to look at that contract and tell me you would stay if you were me.’ she said directly.

When he looked up at her face he could see the drinks she’s had today taking their effects, her eyes were glossy and her face was becoming red. That’s when Ubbe knew she was about to cry, even though he had never seen her do it before, everyone knows when a drunk cry is about to happen.

‘Look at that paper and tell me it’s fair.’ she asked softly as the tears began to flow.

Ubbe had stepped forward to try comforting her, he dropped the papers and tried to wipe away her tears, but she protested.

‘Tell me if I treated you the way you treat me, you would stay. That I could parade men all over the city and come home just before sunrise and find you waiting for me!’ she yelled as she pushed him away.

‘I have been on the back burner for-’ she tried to say but a fit of sobs kept her from finishing.

Her body seemed overcome with her sadness as she curled in on herself, hugging herself tightly as she cried harder than Ubbe had ever seen anyone cry before. This was more than a drunk cry; this was honest to God wailing as her broken sobs devolved into borderline screaming cries. The kind of cry you should only hear from a baby, but there was nothing childish about the pain she was expressing.

‘Five years!’ she cried out as she fell to the floor, still holding herself as she sobbed on the wooden tiles.

It was heartbreaking to see anyone reduced to this, literally crying and broken on the floor; but knowing that he had been the one to break her made Ubbe want to set himself on fire.

(Y/N)’s sobs began to quiet and became more like weak whines and Ubbe couldn’t stand to see her lying there surrounded by the pages he’d dropped.

He bent down and picked her up off the floor bridalstyle, to his surprise she didn’t protest or struggle when he did this. She just began to sob a little more, but this time she seemed desperate not to let the sound out.

Ubbe carried her up the stairs and walked past the guestroom, taking her to the master bedroom instead. It took a bit of effort but he eventually managed to get her in the bed and under the comforter.

‘I will sleep in the guest room, and I’m going to bring you something to eat.’ he said softly.

His wife didn’t say anything back, she just turned away from him.

All Ubbe wanted to do was apologize, for everything; for the way he had treated her, for the contract, for his willing ignorance to her suffering.

Of course he didn’t say anything; he just left the room, closed the door and listened as her hushed sobs continued in his absence.

His head hung low as everything was all starting to make sense. 

For five he’s been operating under the foolish assumption that his wife was so devoted to him because she wanted to be, because maybe she did have feelings for him. Now he knew that she had no choice, she was legally chained to him.

Eventually he couldn’t stand the muffled sobs and he finally went back downstairs to cook, something he had never actually done in this house.

Back before he was married he rarely cooked for himself seeing as he could afford private chefs, but he had enough skill to make a few dishes pretty well. 

Once he was downstairs, Ubbe was met with the scene he’d left behind in the living room. The contract pages scattered on the floor, mocking him in black and white.

Furiously he gathered the pages with one hand while speed calling his mother with the other,

‘Hello Ubbe.’ Aslaug greeted casually.

‘What the hell is this contract Aslaug?’ he asked angrily.

‘That is not how you talk to your mother; and don’t you think it’s a little too late to be worried about it now?’

‘You birthed me, that doesn’t make you a mother; stop dodging the question. What the hell is this contract?’ he repeated.

‘I insured our reputation wouldn’t be affected by a gold digger none of us care about. If anything you should be glad those conditions were in play.’ she argued.

Ubbe wanted to throw his phone in his frustration, is this how his mother had been talking to (Y/N) this whole time?

‘Gold digger? She has never asked for a dime, she has never asked for anything.’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Because she can’t, Ubbe do you think if she could do whatever she wants that you would have been able to enjoy yourself these last five years? You think her social media would make you look good, that she would be beneficial to us? You needed a wife, I got you one that wouldn’t change your lifestyle, you should be thanking me.’ Aslaug ranted.

‘Thanking you?! (Y/N) just had a breakdown, she is seeing divorce lawyers…she can’t wait to get away from me.’ he replied, stunned by his mother’s logic.

‘Exactly what I thought you would have wanted; your inheritance secured and your life unchanged.’

‘Well you thought wrong. Have the lawyers make amendments to the contract and take all of that condition shit out, and I want the five years extended.’ Ubbe demanded as he stood up and slammed the papers onto the coffee table.

‘Extension? Ubbe, what are you talking about?’ his mother asked, and he could hear the displeasure in her voice.

‘Nevermind, I’ll set up the consultation personally. This is the first and only time I’m going to say this, my marriage is no longer any of your concern, stay out of it Aslaug.’ he said before hanging up.

He sighed heavily, imagining he could see his irritation exit his body in a cloud.

Of course it did little to actually calm his nerves but he decided to pretend it did as he went on into the kitchen to start cooking.

He looked in the fridge and of course it was fully stocked with fresh produce, meat, beverages, and dairy. (Y/N) made sure the house was always in top shape, even though she was usually the only one to see it because they’ve never had guests over.

Ubbe surveyed the contents of the fridge and pantry and found he had everything he needed to make a beef stew, one of his best dishes in his own opinion.

As he chopped the vegetables he thought about how many times (Y/N) stood in this spot, preparing meals she never even saw him eat. Wondering what she’d rather be doing instead of this, if there was someone she’d rather be cooking for.

That thought made Ubbe set the knife down halfway through cutting an onion.

What had been her situation before she became his wife? Had she been with someone, was she thinking of him while she sat alone in this house? How awful would it be if she had no experience at all, and he was her introduction to what relationships were?

More and more questions came to his mind as he continued cooking, seasoning and browning the stew meat in the pot before adding in his chopped onions, potatoes, carrots, celery, beef broth, water and seasonings.

With everything assembled now all he could do was wait for the veggies to soften and already he wanted to do something else. He needed to be doing something; anything that could make him feel like his marriage stood a chance.

Full of determination, Ubbe pulled out his phone again and set a legal consultation for the day after tomorrow. He would need more than two weeks to convince (Y/N) that he could be a better husband, so the sooner he asked for an extension the better.

To his surprise, his lawyer called as soon as he’d set the appointment online.

‘Tell me you aren’t trying to end this marriage early, Ubbe. just thirteen more days and it’ll save your family millions I promise.’ Alfred said tiredly on the other end.

‘I’m not, I need an extension.’

The line went silent for a moment, and Ubbe thought maybe the call had ended; at last he heard his lawyer clear his throat. 

‘I’m sorry, I must have heard wrong, it sounded like you said you wanted an extension but that can’t be what I heard.’

‘It’s what I said, I need an extension. Me and (Y/N) will be in your office Tuesday morning, have the papers ready.’ Ubbe said, annoyed with everyone being so ready to see him divorced.

‘Wait!’ Alfred shouted before Ubbe could end the call.

Ubbe took a deep breath before he put the phone back up to his ear.

‘What?’

‘Ubbe, as your lawyer I will do whatever you tell me; but as your friend from college I can’t bite my tongue on this. You shouldn’t get the extension.’

‘And why not?’ Ubbe asked but he knew the answer.

‘It was a miracle that she signed it the first time, asking her to extend it is just cruel. I hadn’t passed the bar yet when that contract was drafted, so there wasn’t much I could do when you hired me, but I cannot in good conscience watch her sign away another five years of her life.’ Alfred said gently.

‘We will be there Tuesday, have the papers ready to be amended.’ Ubbe said sternly before hanging up and powering down his phone.

He didn’t have the energy for anymore conversations, all he wanted to do was focus on taking care of (Y/N), but the five minutes it took for Alfred to piss him off was not enough time for the food to cook.

So he decided to start going through the contract to find all the hidden conditions, and he was horrified by each one he found.

I will give no public or private interviews during the duration of this agreement.

Every few pages there was another sentence casually taking her ability to do the most basic of things.

She had looked the contract over the day of their wedding…after he’d humiliated her that very first time.

Ubbe sat on the couch, black sharpie in hand as he redacted every one he found; his wrist was cramped when he started to smell his stew. He sat aside the marker and checked on his food and found that it had come out better than normal.

The stew meat was perfectly cooked, the vegetables were all fork tender and the broth was flavorful. He filled a bowl and grabbed a spoon before he began his climb up the stairs, he couldn’t hear any crying from the bedroom.

(Y/N) must have fallen asleep.

More like cried herself to sleep, how often did she do that while he was sleeping in some hotel room with other women.

He nervously opened the door and found that he was right, she was sleeping with her back still facing the door.

As he sat the food down on her bedside table he studied her sleeping face, closer than he could ever remember doing before.

The tears had dried on her cheeks and her face was still slightly puffy, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Ubbe suddenly saw something in his own bedside table, a small stack of sticky notes and a pen. Notes were how he left messages when he came home after she was asleep, so he always had them out.

As he wrote his note he hoped that (Y/N) would find some, even if only a small amount, of comfort in his words.

I made this for you, I hope you like it. I’m truly sorry.

[lonelyblackwing-kt]

I know you are on Hiatus in your Youtube Channel, but I'm curious on who is your favorite artists? Favorite Youtubers? And how are you feeling?

My Top 10 Favorite Artists:

@blogthegreatrouge (always #1 in my books)

@itsnojida

@boshedagh (aka: creator of @askthemadsans)

@ask-glitch-and-squid 

@pandurrpink

@comyet

@loverofpiggies

@always-x3

@ask-drunk-chara

@asktheinkdemon

My Top 10 Favorite Youtubers:

TwoManyRaptors (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWQS7LilJ64Uh_kShgF4gAg)

Jael Penaloza or Jakei (https://www.youtube.com/user/oshaicatboys or @jakei95)

Ania Da Peasent (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvcvDJOYYsZOwHi2UInJbqg or @ania-da-peasant)

Hailey-Senpai (@ihaileysenpai or https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvbepLqcdD8jqAv8P_NL2zA)

Mr. Amazing VA (@mramazingva or https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXzPqMjGjGiw91RQl2JkD9A)

Kyotosomo (@kyotosomo or https://www.youtube.com/user/kyotosomo)

Camila Curvas (@camilaart or https://www.youtube.com/user/camilacachito2929)

Starbot Dubs (@starbotdubs or https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtB89CyyMcewHeC3kuyC5TQ/featured)

Tehrouge (@tehrogue or https://www.youtube.com/user/RogueAbridger)

DryeGuy (@dryeguy or https://www.youtube.com/user/ZekeX79)

This is my top for this year (so far), but they are not in order. (Except for the fabulous artist Rouge). I would talk about other Youtubers or artists, but that will make the lists too long, so sorry.

As for how I’m feeling, I’m having a bad fever. So I’m more backed out than usual…I’ll try to recover as soon as I can though, I miss all my subs at the other side.

I would love it, if more of you would ask me questions. It would make this fever more bearable with others around, instead of me just lying down in bed.

[fabulous-peasent]

Hal and Jack's diplomatic energies are absolutely off the charts

Can you imagine if these two got to spend more time together?? God, Flint and Vane wouldn't have stood a chance; Nassau wouldn't have stood a chance.

They would have just strolled into Eleanor's office (?) and started throwing around orders and no one would have stopped them

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Not a Costume Party

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: (Y/N)'s first college party didn't go as planned, but even better.

ONESHOT

That bitch Freydis.

It was the first thing you thought as you entered what was already anticipated to be the biggest freshmen party of the semester.

The big sorority house was already crowded with bodies, beer cans, and liquor bottles. Music was blaring through surround sound speakers as smoke from several vapes and other substances filled the air.

It was exactly what you’d expect from a college party, the only issue was it wasn’t a costume party; like your roommate Freydis, who had invited you, said it would be.

The campus had strict rules about public intoxication so no one was in the yard in front, meaning you didn’t realize how out of dresscode you were until it was too late.

You stood in the doorway dressed in a Daenerys Targaryen two piece Dothraki costume, equipped with a platinum blonde wig and three prop dragons that Freydis watched you hand make for nearly two months.

Now, of course this wasn’t a movie; the whole party didn’t stop just to point and laugh at you. 

That you probably would have preferred over what actually happened. Most people were too preoccupied with their own conversations, but more than enough looked at you and turned back giggling to their friends.

Like you weren't worth more than a glance, but you were a funny thing to talk about.

Your ears burned in humiliation, feeling foolish for thinking Freydis, who had always been rude and dismissive of your presence, would genuinely invite you to a party.

Deciding you had given everyone enough to see you turned to just go back to your dorm and set fire to this costume, but someone catches your arm before you could leave.

‘Where are you going? The party just started, don’t you want everyone to see the outfit you worked so hard on?’

It was Freydis, dressed in a pink tube dress that made her look sweet as strawberries and smiling so happily one would think she was being genuine.

You snatched your arm away and glared at her venomously.

‘You’re right, I did work hard on this. Why should I let a girl who hasn’t graduated from high school bullying stop me from showing it off?’ you snapped before you closed the door and walked deeper into the party.

You were not in high school anymore, and people you don’t know shouldn’t have the ability to make you feel small. Freydis had been a nightmare from the beginning of the year, but once she saw how the professors praised your assignments she became outright spiteful. 

She would not get the satisfaction of making you leave this party to go home and sulk.

With your head held high, you walked into the kitchen and ignored the eyes that fell on you as you poured yourself a shot of tequila and downed it.

While you were preparing to pour another shot when someone took the bottle.

‘Hey!’ you protested.

‘Can’t have the Mother of Dragons pouring her own drinks can we.’

You looked up and saw the unthinkable.

Ivar Ragnarson, the wrestling team captain that everyone called Boneless. 

He was one of those infamous names that you’d heard a million times on campus. Everyone seemed to like him or envy him.

He poured your shot and got a second shot glass and poured one for himself.

‘To the best costume here.’ he toasted.

‘To the only costume here.’ you corrected as you clinked his glass with yours in cheers before taking your second shot.

‘Yeah, I was gonna ask what the deal was, but I got distracted by how well made this is.’ he said, pointing to the dragon on your shoulder.

‘Thanks, it’s detachable and doubles as a figurine.’ you said, removing the foam Rhaegal accessory and showing Ivar how it moved at the joints of the limbs, neck and wings.

‘That is sick, you are definitely either fashion major or engineering.

‘Both, fashion major, minors fashion engineering and robotics.’ you confirm.

‘Robotics?’ he asked intrigued.

You smiled brightly, you had been looking forward to the party so you’d get a chance to show everyone your favorite feature of your costume. Even Freydis hadn’t seen it as you needed the robotics lab to work on it.

‘Wanna see something epic?’ you asked with a grin.

Ivar smiled back and nodded.

You took Drogon from its notch on your belt and stuck it onto the one on your shoulder where Rhaegal was before. Then, you pulled a long black tube from inside the foam dragon’s mouth and connected one end into a nozzle hidden under the right wing.

‘Do you have a vape or anything to smoke?’

‘No, but I know just the guy. Sigurd!’ Ivar called loudly over the music and soon a long haired blonde guy smoking a bong joined you.

‘Whattya need?’ he slurred, clearly high already if his red eyes were anything to go by.

‘Literally just what you’re doing now is perfect, blow your smoke into this please.’ you smiled holding out the end of the tube.

Sigurd seemed to only notice you and your costume just then.

‘Sick costume, but I don’t blow anything. Take a hit for yourself if you need smoke.’ he offered the bong to you.

You weren’t a prude, plenty of your friends back home smoked weed, but you had never actually smoked before. Then again you never attended a college party before either, so why not cross one more thing off your bucket list tonight?

You took the hit, trying to remember just how everyone always showed you, but the first hit made you cough. Taking pity on what was clearly a first timer, Sigurd gave a tip to add an ice cube to the bong so it's less harsh.

You took his advice and tried again, this time you successfully held the tube to your mouth.

You took a step back and held up one finger, signaling that it was about to happen. You blew the smoke into the tube and watched the mouth mechanism open and spew out the smoke along with an audible roar that the whole kitchen heard.

You smiled as you watched countless failed attempts finally pay off in front of an audience.

The room erupted in cheer as the roar echoed.

Soon there was a line of people all eager to blow their own smoke clouds through the dragon on your shoulder. Everyone was asking where you got it, then how you made it in such a short amount of time. A few people who were in the same classes as you were quick to compliment your work in class and surprised to see you did more than study.

People from the living room began pouring into the kitchen to see the cause of all that cheering noise. Eventually the kitchen was too small for the crowd and Ivar helped you carefully walk out to the living room.

The dragons were firmly secured by the notches, but the battery compartment that powered your pulley system wasn’t so lucky. It was just loosely sewn into the waist line of your skirt and if it got too knocked around the whole effect would be ruined, so you appreciated Ivar directing a path for you as you exited the kitchen. 

The music in the living room was still blaring, but the roar along with the smoke show that a sorority sister blew out as you entered got everyone’s attention.

‘Everybody look alive! We got royalty in the House of Dragons! Introducing Kattegat University’s very own Daenerys Targaryen!’ the DJ announced as the spotlight actually landed on you.

The crowd erupted, the same people who had just been whispering about you were now chanting your name and trying to get your attention for photos and videos.

‘What the fuck?’

You looked over and saw Freydis looking red in the face in anger, but she wasn’t looking at you at all.

‘I know, isn't it cool!’ Ivar smiled.

‘No, it’s a stupid costume from a nerdy TV show. Ivar, let go of her.’ she snapped.

You looked confused, sure you had heard her on the phone talking about her new boyfriend on the wrestling team but you didn’t think she meant Ivar THE Boneless.

Ivar looked confused too as he politely let the guy waiting for his turn with the tube know you needed a minute to talk to someone.

‘Wait Freydis, is this your roommate?’ Ivar asked, looking back at you.

‘Yeah, and she was the one who told me it was a costume party.’ you answered.

‘Dude, that’s not cool.’ Ivar said, looking at Freydis in disappointment.

She scoffed dismissively in the way that made you want to put Nair in her shampoo.

‘It was literally a joke, and it doesn’t matter. Let go of her.’ she repeated.

‘You told me your roommate was a know-it-all headcase who had no social skills; and…what’s your name?’ he asked offhandedly.

‘(Y/N).’

‘(Y/N) seems just fine socializing with everyone, so what actually is your issue with her? You’ve been badmouthing her all over campus since orientation.’ Ivar asked directly.

‘She is a know-it-all! Even now she had to add homework to a dorky costume in order to get attention.’ your roommate snapped angrily.

At this several people protested, stating that Game of Thrones was recognized as a global phenomenon and that your costume was the coolest thing at this party.

This did little to reduce her anger, you noticed.

‘Ivar, I am telling you to get over here now; I’m your girlfriend, not her.’

This time Ivar looked genuinely amused.

‘Not ordering me around like a dog, you’re not.’

‘Excuse me?’ Freydis asked angrily.

‘I’m breaking up with you, you understand?’ Ivar said slowly and clearly.

You covered your mouth to hide a surprised laugh as Freydis’s jaw literally dropped.

‘No , you are not.’ she rejected.

‘Yes I am, you’re toxic, overly jealous, and clearly petty as hell. (Y/N) having better grades than you doesn’t make her a know-it-all, and her not wanting to get blacked out every weekend like you doesn’t make her socially stunted.’ he argued.

‘Ivar, tell me you are not seriously trying to break up with me, for this…bookworm.’ Freydis sneered, looking at you in disgust.

‘Well, I was gonna get to know her first, but yeah I think that sounds like a plan to me.’ Ivar shrugged.

This time you went red, suddenly becoming hyper aware that his hand was still on the base of your back holding your hidden battery compartment steady for you.

Freydis looked like she might actually explode into a tirade like no one’s ever seen, but she looked around and saw how many people had paused their conversations to listen to her getting dumped.

She cursed and stomped out, slamming the door behind her.

‘Good riddance, she was a nightmare and a half.’ Ivar sighed as he led you back to your que.

The party went on and eventually, after nearly every smoker and even a few non-smokers who just liked the costume had their turn with it you were finally able to detach the tube and put it away.

Ivar stayed with you as you went back into the kitchen, the two of you laughing as a few guys huddled by the fridge bowed dramatically to you.

‘This is definitely the best time I’ve had at any party.’ you smiled.

‘Well it is only your first college party, I’ll take you to a better one next week.’ Ivar smiled back.

Again you went red.

‘Tha-that's... I um would r-really like that.' you stuttered nervously.

‘You’re cute, smart, and clearly you have good taste in TV. Why couldn’t I meet you first instead?’ he whined dramatically.

‘She couldn’t have been too insufferable, you dated her didn’t you?’ you said, trying to ignore your nerves.

‘I was young and foolish.’ he sighed.

‘Didn’t you guys start dating like last month?’ you laughed.

‘And I’ve matured so much since then, honestly isn’t the tuition worth it when you learn so much so quickly?’ he joked charmingly.

You laughed and looked away, wondering how you had gone from being the butt of a joke to having Ivar the Boneless charming your socks off.

‘Seriously though, I imagine she’s fuming in your dorm right now. Wanna crash at mine?’ he offered.

‘Your place?’ you blushed outright.

Ivar laughed and told you not to worry.

‘I can sleep on the couch, whatever you’re comfortable with (Y/N). I’ll even give you the bedroom key if you want to lock me out.’ he assured.

The thought of going to a guys dorm made you feel scandalous, but you knew he was definitely right about Freydis.

You had bought a camera for your PC that faced your side of the room so you weren’t afraid of her destroying your stuff, but you knew if you came in tonight she’d find a way to annoy you.

Plus a small part of you really wanted to get to know Ivar better, so you made up your mind.

‘I’ll take you up that offer.’

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: While the princess hunts, Ivar learns how to be a good husband.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

For a few glorious seconds when she had first woken up she believed she would sit up and be in her quarters with Ivar beside her. Her dream of simply being his wife had been so vivid she felt in her bones it was the reality.

But the seconds only last so long and she feels the ache of sleeping on the hard ground as she opens her eyes to her tiny little shelter lit by rising sun.

She groaned in discomfort as she stood up and looked down at the rocky surface she laid on in distaste.

With what she knew to be a childish temper she walked over to the bloody bag that would have been her blanket and kicked it. She knew the fabric would have provided her little comfort, but it would have been better than nothing.

With a silent apology to the Great and Many she pulled out some more bread and biltong then tried not to glare at the bloody bag again. The lion had not only been unworthy of skinning, it was also unworthy of eating too, she complained silently.

Still, as she ate she knew she needed to do something with the carcass before its scent attracted trouble.

What was the best way to get rid of it alone, she wondered; considering abandoning it a few miles away from the shelter or even trying to burn the remains.

The idea of burning it made the princess feel wasteful, and even a tad bit sorrowful for the lion. It was a very respected animal and it seemed to have had a hard time living as long as it had before you crossed his path. Burning it properly and safely would take hours and every second of sunlight felt precious, and the Spirits would know that this body was wasted and not returned to the soil it was born in.

Soil…land, hunt; water…fishing?

The words had bounced around in her head in a weird procession of word association, soil is on land where you hunt, water is where you fish. What if she tried to fish on land?

(Y/N) quickly shoved the rest of her food in her mouth as she hurried to see how much rope she had left in her sack. It was only about twenty feet of twine, but it would have to be enough.

The next hour was spent preparing to go out and put her plan in motion, putting out the embers of the fire last night and shallowly burying a large portion of the lion's dismembered body a good visible distance away from her shelter and marking the spot with a large fallen branch.

(Y/N) had plans to cut out a widow in one of the walls of her shelter so that she could watch the burial site. If the first plan didn’t work out then she could hope to catch something digging up the free meal.

With that in mind she exited her humble dwelling, rope tied around the largest and best piece of meat the lion had to offer. The poor beast was really in bad shape and finding a piece of meat large enough to lure and entice anything had been ghastly work, but eventually she settled for the left hind leg.

She felt the burning sun above her as she walked towards the waterhole, the bait meat was hanging on her hip, tied tightly around her waist so her hands were free if she needed to fire an arrow.

Luckily, she didn’t run into any trouble on her way, reaching the trees that surrounded the water.

She knew from experience on previous hunts that most animals came to the warterhole to either bathe or drink so the trees were mostly empty. There were mandrills that kept to the denser trees where they had more shade, but she had no intention of getting in their way.

The princess took one large sip of water from her canteen before securing it along with the bow and arrows, the next part was not going to be easy and that excited her in the midst of her unease.

She had no idea if this hunting tactic would work, (Y/N) never even heard of any of the royal hunters attempting something like it.

‘Land fishing.’ she whispered before she began her first attempt at climbing a doum palm tree.

The bark was rough and splintery and the first initial step resulted in two red and raw palms that left her hissing.

She removed as many splinters as she could see, but her hands were still stinging.

The height and uniquely structured rough bark of the great tree were the largest hurdles for the time being, she couldn’t hold onto the leaf scars of the trunk without ripping them off the tree bark entirely.

She walked once around the tree, hoping to see something, anything on the tree that would make climbing it possible before noon.

There was nothing, the tree seemed in much better health than her lion visitor had been yesterday. She looked at her new dilemma and tried to find a new solution, but a sound of rustling leaves quickly distracted her, making her curse securing her weapon.

The sound was actually very far off, over where the mandrills were lounging in the thicker tree branches. The princess’s eyes followed the motion of fallen leaves and saw that a young infant had apparently fallen from a low branch of the tree.

In the next second the mother jumped into the grass to retrieve her screaming babe; (Y/N) made sure that she was not visible to either mother or child, ducking behind the trunk of the tree, and prayed the distance was enough to keep her scent from being noticed.

Mandrills moved in hordes and even as a wealthy princess, (Y/N) couldn’t afford to get their attention right now.

For a few stiff moments the mandrill sat still and searched for something other than her child, like she had caught a scent she didn’t like. The magnificent beast paced around the base of the tree, her head turning as she searched for any movement or sign of a threat.

The princess was as still as stone in her hiding spot.

She watched from behind her unclimbed tree as the mother mandrill placed her young onto her back and began climbing back to their sanctuary in the high branches.

Wide eyed the princess saw how the creature climbed, using the fragile leaf scars as steps rather than handles. Its powerful arms wrapped around the bark and interlocked the fingers so they connected like a belt as it pulled itself up higher until the leaves concealed them once more.

Of course she knew she couldn’t perfectly imitate the primate’s climbing but it had definitely given her an idea.

Carefully she untied the twine around her waist, making sure not to drop anything in case the mandrills were being cautious.

Once the twine was unravelled enough for her to wrap around both the tree and herself she tied it tightly behind her back. Looking again at how thin the twine was she made another loop around the tree and secured a second knot.

‘Please Great and Many, I want to marry that man. Be with me in this hunt and protect me, do not let me fail.’ (Y/N) prayed softly, feeling a breeze and hoping the wind carried your prayer to listening ears.

At last she gathered the strength to make a second attempt.

She leaned back feeling the twine support a large portion of her weight as she wrapped her arms around the trunk and pulled herself up using her arms. Once her feet were off the ground she gently placed them on the leaf scars and found that they held her weight well enough, but she wouldn’t push her luck.

Before the leaf scar could begin to snap under her foot the princess lifted her interlocked hands and pulled her body up higher as she moved her foot to the next scar, only a few inches off the ground but she tried to memorize the position and motion as she did it.

It took a large amount of strength to pull her own body weight along with her supplies and bait, but it also took an unprecedented amount of balance.

After repeating the motion about seven more times Princess (Y/N) found herself out of breath and with another twenty feet at least left to climb. Her arms, legs and abdomen were already beginning to ache and the rough texture of the twine seemed to be rubbing any skin it touched raw.

The sun was not yet fully peaked just yet and the shade the tree provided was heavily appreciated, but she felt drenched in sweat as she continued her strenuous climb.

Higher and higher she climbed, trying to focus on the next step she would take, but already she was not looking forward to doing this backwards on the way down.

As the beloved princess of Tunisia was trying to prove her worth as a valuable wife, Ivar was on his way to learn what it meant to be a good husband in Tunisian culture.

Of course he was genuinely interested in what the markets had to offer, but more than that he wanted to see the people. How they speak to one another, how the men show their affection and what the women found attractive.

Ivar had been truly touched by Princess (Y/N)’s assurances that she would be with only him even if he couldn’t please her, but he wanted to at least give her the best of what he knew he could.

He would learn every marriage custom and be sure he never did anything in ignorance to disrespect her as his wife.

It seemed the servant girl originally assigned the task of escorting them was experiencing her bleeding time and would not be available for a few days. So now Bintu was leading him along with the rest of his family out of the castle to begin the tour of the markets and the heavy mood that had dominated breakfast had mostly subsided.

Though Ivar suspected it was because Aslaug had chosen to stay behind with Queen Aza in court.

‘Your young royals are the ones who take these daily patrols?’ Hvitserk asked as they began their outing.

‘Yes, it is custom. Once they are educated enough, this teaches them what is happening among the people, to communicate it properly and put faces to the complaints.’ the older woman informed.

‘Who has been doing them while Princess (Y/N) was in Kattegat?’ Ivar asked.

‘A rotation of nobles, that way it’s harder for corruption to form. Lies start to fall apart when you involve large amounts of people to coordinate.’

‘I can confirm that, even now I’m King because an old man included the wrong people in his schemes against me.’ Ragnar sighed in reminiscence.

‘Sven told us how you and your magical boat builder overthrew your last King, it was a favorite with our young warriors. I imagine you will be asked to bless a few blades once we reach the market.’ their guide smiled.

‘Magical? Don’t let Floki hear you call him that…it would go right to that bald head of his.’ Ivar laughed.

‘Only a man with magic could build those long ships, even as the journey sickened me I appreciated the craftsmanship.’ Bintu said praisingly as they at last seemed to reach the market.

A large square with randomly placed carts, tables and tents, each accompanied by a merchant who had displayed their goods as intricately as possible to capture the attention of the passersby.

‘Speaking so fondly of other men now Bintu? Are you hoping to provoke me into acting rash next week?’ Sven asked as he approached their group.

He seemed to have been looking at a blacksmith’s cart before he noticed their arrival.

‘If I am? What could you do about it?’ Bintu challenged, but Sven only smiled fondly.

‘Nothing now, but I will remember.’ he said casually, but the look he gave the Tunisian woman was hungry and wanting.

Ragnar looked in amusement between the two, and a knowing smile crept its way onto his wrinkled face.

‘Ah, another union!’ the king teased.

Sven proudly raised his tunic and revealed a bloody bandage on the right side of his ribs.

‘Our Matrimonial Fight is next full moon. It won’t be a large event like Ivar’s but I imagine it will be a good show.’ the old man beamed.

Everyone gave their congratulations, even Bintu couldn’t keep her indifferent facade going in the midst of such celebration.

‘Thank the Gods, thought we’d see you two stumbling out of the boathouses for ages.’ Ubbe joked.

‘Our tour! You are interrupting our tour of the market! Go away, go train…just don’t be here!’ Bintu said quickly, pushing the jolly giant that was Sven back to the blacksmith’s cart before herding Ivar and his family further into the market.

Without the distraction of Sven and Bintu’s courtship Ivar began to look closer at the items on display.

Colorful fabrics with complicated designs and patterns, elegantly beaded jewelry, gold accessories, headdresses, strange spotted and striped furs, vibrant paints, spices, herbs, unfamiliar crops and so much more that Ivar didn’t even know how to describe.

‘What stall would you all like to see first?’ Bintu asked, her eyes still occasionally moving back to the Blacksmith’s cart.

‘I want to see what all you harvest.’ Ragnar answered for them all.

Bintu nodded and began to lead them to a section of carts and tables laid out with what appeared to be vegetables, grains and butchered meat.

The merchants had taken notice of their foreign audience and had begun to advertise their products vigorously.

‘The best biltong you can have!’

‘Fine potatoes and turnips. Perfect for even the most royal of meals!’

‘Palm wine! Honey sweetened and perfectly aged!’

There were so many people speaking Ivar had a hard time translating it all at once, but his family looked more and more excited the louder things got.

Soon their group had been separated despite Bintu’s wishes, everyone wanted to see different things that were scattered too far apart.

Hvitserk was tasting things at every cart, Ubbe was fascinated with the gold accessories on display, Ragnar spoke with a turnip farmer, and Sigurd had purchased what looked like a flute.

Ivar had taken longer than he wanted to reach the stand that interested him the most, his crutches really did slow him down.

‘Stylish cloaks! Perfect for every occasion and life saving in the winter season.’ the old woman said, her weathered hands presenting her collection that was displayed on a table.

There were all types of furs and even some beaded cloaks that Ivar couldn’t help touching as he greeted the woman politely.

‘Hello Elder, may I ask a few questions?’ he asked.

‘Of course, anything for our Prince Consort, many blessings to you and our princess. I’ve asked the Great and Many to guide her home safely for your wedding.’ the woman smiled brightly.

‘I thank you, I wanted to ask you what kind of animals are used in the finest cloaks? I would hate not to know the significance of what she presents to me after she has worked so hard.’

The old woman tutted and came around the table to hold his face, pinching his cheeks firmly.

‘Eh Eh, such a good good husband! Oh that blessed princess to find such a kind strong man! Sweet child, so much work goes into a cloak of any kind, but a warrior woman’s matrimonial cloak…I’ve seen women so determined they stitched full cloaks from rabbits alone.’ the woman spoke openly.

‘Those don’t tend to end well from what I’ve seen.’ she said quietly looking over her shoulder.

‘You didn’t hear it from me, but the salt merchant’s wife presented him with a cloak of rats! He accepted because she was a well sought out beauty, but now…come supper time, you can find her under the docks with all types of urchins!’ she laughed.

Ivar looked over at the salt merchant in amusement, he found the old woman’s presence comforting and warm. She spoke to him the way he imagined a grandmother would if he had one. She, like every other person Ivar had interacted with in Tunisia, said nothing about his legs and didn’t look at him like he had no right to exist.

‘The best animals are the large prey, pack animals and predators. Like this leopard here.’

Ivar looked at the cloak she pointed out and he was amazed by the orange black spotted pattern of the fur, he ran fingers through it.

He imagined what the leopard looked like before it was skinned to be this thick and large cloak in his hands. Then he imagined (Y/N) alone with one out in the desert that surrounded the capital village.

‘There are also gazelle, lion, wild boar, tiger, baboon, zebra, mandrill and hyena. Those are the best! Never seen an unhappy marriage for any couples with those furs, they are difficult to hunt successfully with a full party, it’s dangerous to do alone. Only women who are truly interested in the marriage seek these furs, even fewer have the skill to obtain it.’

‘How dangerous is it to do alone?’ Ivar asked, his worry growing.

‘Do not fret my pale patreon, I have lived in this village many years and I’ve seen Princess (Y/N) grow into such a skilled warrior. I am certain she will have a magnificent cloak to present to you, I will personally be helping her in the skinning tents when she returns.’

‘You are one of the skinners?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, but we all use the tents, and the best way to get the finest furs and leathers for your product is to help make it. It also doesn’t hurt if the skinners love your cooking, but again I did not tell you this.’ she smiled conspiratorially.

Ivar got the message; bribe the skinners with food.

‘Thank you Elder, I hate not to buy anything after taking so much of your time, please take this.’ Ivar took out a few gold coins and the old woman thanked him heavily and insisted he take at the very least a bright beaded bracelet.

‘Ivar, you have to try this fruit!’ Hvitserk called excitedly from a table so far away it made Ivar wince before he even began to approach it.

‘It had better be amazing.’ he mumbled as he finally got within reasonable hearing distance.

‘My brother, try this.’ his brother repeated.

‘Baobab fruit, my visiting friend. A local delicacy here, it dries naturally on the branch so the flesh is always perfectly preserved.’ the merchant advertised eagerly. Still holding the handful of golden coins Hvitserk must have given him.

Ivar looked at the strange fruit that littered the table, it looked more like a root vegetable or an odd type of melon. The merchant took out a knife and kissed the blade before he cut into the mysterious fruit.

‘Why do you…Ah Ivar.’ Hvitserk had started to ask but he seemed to have a hard time finding the correct way to ask his question in Derja, so he looked to Ivar for help.

Ivar sighed in annoyance but he looked to see what his brother was trying to ask; Hvitserk kissed the back of his own hand and pointed at the man’s knife.

‘My brother wants to know why do you kiss the blade?’ he asked.

The man shook his head as he removed the flesh from inside the fruit and placed it in a small clay bowl for Ivar to try.

‘Ahhh, it is a sad custom for widowers.’ the mad said.

Ivar’s hand froze on its way to reach into the bowl and he looked closer at the merchant he was speaking with.

This man was not elderly, nor did he look particularly sick or hard weathered. The Tunisian looked to be maybe a few years older than Ubbe, but his posture had changed after he gave his answer. His shoulders slumped and his head hung low as he seemed to caress the blade now.

‘My late wife’s last family blade…she died in childbirth and there is no child to pass this on to now. So I keep it with me, I ask it and her spirit to watch over me in my remaining years.’ he said softly, not looking at Ivar or Hvitserk, just his knife.

Ivar fought hard not to imagine himself in this man’s shoes; alone with no wife or child, just a knife that never gets to be inherited.

‘I am sorry for your losses,’ he said.

The man nodded in silent thanks before he straightened his composure, and put the knife back into the sheath.

‘No more widower talk, I’m sure you are interested in more positive things with a grand wedding to plan. My congratulations on winning the Matrimonial Fight for our sweet Princess (Y/N) I’m sure she will gift you an extravagant cloak.’ he beamed.

Ivar finally did get to try the Baobab, it was the strangest and sweetest thing he’d ever experienced. The flesh was sweet but dry and the seeds should not ever be thrown out, according to the merchant’s horrified expression when he first did it.

‘The seed can be crushed into powder, roasted or eaten raw.’ the man informed.

‘I’m going to convince father we need to add these to our trade, and I’m buying two barrels if he refuses. One way or another these are coming home with me.’ Hvitserk said, his voice determined.

‘I agree these are delicious.’ Ivar complimented and he gave the man a gold coin and took a few fruits and added them to Hvitserk’s bag.

‘Thank you for your story, may the Great and Many bless you.’ Ivar said before moving on to another cart.

‘Many Blessings, have this coriander for good health.’ said a kind young woman standing by a tent that smelled of fresh spice.

‘Congratulations! Please take these shell beads as my humble wedding gift.’ an old man said, handing Ivar a small rattling sack.

In all his years as a prince, Ivar had never felt so openly accepted. More than simply accepted, he felt as though for the first time he was being revered. No open glares, or cursed laughter when he passed by; all he saw was smiling faces directed at him as he limped along.

More and more people congratulated him as he passed, the merchant’s becoming less skeptical of them as they saw there was no ill intent on the pale unscared faces. And eventually, the young men began to interrupt Ragnar's exploring to nervously ask him to bless their various weapons, just as Bintu had teased.

Ivar soon had to offer seven gold coins for carrying his gifts to a passing young man, but the man refused; he insisted he was at the willing service of the royal family. Confused by the rejection, Ivar asked why.

‘I am not in need of it, the next person you meet might be.’ the man who introduced himself as Dele said as he walked alongside Ivar.

‘Ah! Our lucky man! Come come! I have by far the best wedding gift for any young married couple!’ a man exclaimed enthusiastically from under a tent.

‘Go, that is a tent you cannot afford to miss if you want to please your wife. Trust me.’ Dele urged with a smile.

‘Why?’ Ivar asked curiously as they turned to approach the tent.

‘I may not be married yet, but I can assure no woman has ever been upset seeing their husband coming out of there, look!’ his new companion said, pointing at a man exiting the tent behind the merchant.

He looked like the exact man (Y/N) said she would gladly overlook for Ivar; dark skin, long dreadlocks and a warrior’s physique. He walked over to a woman who smiled brightly as she looked around to see if anyone was watching.

When she noticed Ivar her eyes widened, she quickly hid her face in the man’s chest. He looked confused before he laughed and waved at Ivar happily, Ivar waved back and the woman dragged the cackling man away.

‘Good man, come inside.’ the merchant smiled as he ducked into his small tent.

Ivar followed, greatly appreciating the reprieve from the harsh sun. The tent had the strongest scent Ivar had experienced outside of a few select religious ceremonies.

It made him slightly lightheaded in a pleasant way.

‘Welcome Prince Consort, my congratulations! I have something special for your wedding gift.’ the merchant promised.

‘Thank you Uncle, may I say I am very curious about your trade. It seems infamous.’ Ivar complimented.

‘Ah, the Great and Many push me to be humble, but I must confess I picked a great trade.’ the man smiled as he searched for something in a crate of what looked like organized painted eggs.

‘What is it exactly that you offer?’

‘I offer what everyone needs, a little help.’ the man grinned, and Dele failed to restrain his laughter.

‘Help?’ he asked.

‘Aphrodisiacs! A little bit of the right herbs can help keep even the most mundane of married couples happy. Instead of passionless nights; imagine your wife wanting you so much she loses her senses for hours, then imagine having the stamina to satisfy her fully.’ the man explained.

Ivar’s eyes widened, his brows probably touching his hairline; he could hear Dele laughing outright at his expression but he knew his face wasn’t warming from shame.

‘No need for shyness. The tent gives you privacy, in here we are all people, merely seeking a little…help.’ Dele assured as he placed his arm over Ivar’s shoulder in a friendly way.

Between the overwhelming scent that surrounded him and the unfamiliar friendly faces, the young prince couldn’t help opening up. Speaking freely on one of his deepest secrets in front of total strangers.

‘What if you’ve never…been able.’ he asked in a small voice, waiting for the crude laugh that would rip this fantasy away from him.

No such laughter came, instead the merchant smiled as he went back to searching the eggs.

‘Fear not, I have just the thing for you my friend. I have something for absolutely everything and everyone. Have you never, or do you simply prefer pleasure alone?’ the merchant asked casually.

‘Nothing ever, not even alone…not once.’

The merchant hummed, then his smile widened; to his own surprise Ivar recognized the expression. A challenge had been accepted.

‘A blend I believe will be the best…Grains of Paradise surely yes, and Mondia Whitei for calming nerves and increasing hunger.’ the man muttered as he took out two eggs.

They were simple chicken’s eggs but they were clearly already cracked open and held together by strips of twine turning the potentially scandalous merchandise into eggs into easy to miss in an inventory.

Both were painted in extravagant patterns but they were notably different from each other.

‘Mix equal parts of this into your broth, about a pinch of each, two to three hours before you perform your husbandly duties. My gift to you and the Princess (Y/N), but if you are more interested I offer a variety of things to guarantee you a happy marriage.’

Ivar took the two eggs and studied them in wonder, he could hear the spices rattling inside the shells. He imagined following the instructions and being truly able to satisfy his betrothed on their wedding night.

‘What all do you offer Uncle?’

‘For first timers I strongly suggest burning Duffra incense, they are not overwhelming and slowly erase inhibitions and allow a woman’s desire to increase gradually. Also the scent is unforgettable, every time she burns these incense she will recall that first night.’

Ivar felt as if he were back in the Great Hall as a boy, sitting at Floki’s side and learning about the very first raids. Like it was one of the few Godly things men were capable of doing and he wanted to experience it.

He was unsure of how long he spent in the tent but he knew his gold purse was significantly lighter and Dele was carrying a larger load. Ivar learned everything he could while inside the tent, he asked every question that came to him.

Thankfully, Dele and the Merchant Chu’ Ku were happy to enlighten him, they answered his questions and gave him the societal sub-context he needed to navigate efficiently in public and behind closed doors with his wife.

For instance nudity was an odd concept here, if a person works outdoors they can be naked and it only means it is a hot day. However, being naked indoors is a show of trust with the person you sleep with. It made him feel somehow even better about the nights he lay beside (Y/N), and it made him miss her more.

Looking around the market he could see the crowd had reduced greatly and the sun was beginning to fall. Still a large number of merchant’s remained and he could see his family still wandering, and all of them had volunteers carrying their newly acquired treasures.

‘Good tent?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of no use to any of you my brothers.’ Ivar said quickly.

He didn’t want them to know what he had needed “help” with, and he was certain his brothers had no issues exciting women. So why expose his own private blessing?

Ubbe looked curious for a moment but shrugged it off before moving to another cart. Ivar instructed Dele to take his things to the castle and return, he would ask the merchant’s to hold onto their gifts until the kind helper returned.

With that done Ivar went back to his own browsing, still accepting good wishes from almost every person he passed.

Then he saw something unbelievably recognizable in this strange place.

Crutches.

A whole collection of them leaning against a modest wooden table, a young boy stood by and smiled brightly up at Ivar’s astonished face.

‘Pale Prince, are you looking for new crutches? Mother was hoping to gift you some but she left to help a man home.’ the boy explained eagerly.

‘Dear child, has there been any war in Tunisia.’ Ivar asked.

The boy’s smile fell as confusion took over his expression, he shook his head no.

‘Why does your mother sell crutches?’ Ivar asked as he looked over the craftsmanship. They were wooden, unlike his bronze forged pair; they were taller and meant to hold the user under the arms and the bottoms were flat instead of spiked to stab into rich soil or wooden floors.

‘For the people who can’t walk?’ the boy said, as if it were so obvious it was a little concerning for the Prince to not know.

Ivar notices even smaller crutches that were so short they couldn’t possibly be for an injured warrior or field hand.

‘And are there many people…children who can not walk?’

‘Enough to get us by, but not make us rich; is what my mother says.’

Chike!’ a young woman scolded as she rushed to the child’s side.

‘My deepest apologies Prince Consort, my son has not been bled and doesn’t know the custom yet.’ she said quickly, her face struck with panic.

‘Not necessary, I am also still learning the customs so I do not know how to be offended.’ he soothed.

The woman sighed in relief and sent him a grateful smile.

‘Please, any you would like.’ she said, motioning to the display.

Ivar was fascinated not only by the crutches themselves, but also by the fact that this woman made enough selling them to support her family. That meant there were children like him born here that were never at risk of being left to die.

That Tunisian women did not discard imperfect babes, that (Y/N) would never be told by her friends to reject his children. It explained why none of the Tunisians stared or questioned him as he crawled past them that first meeting in Kattegat, to them he was not strange or wrong,

He found a pair that suited his height comfortably and gave them the same test he had performed on his first pair. These were much better suited for the hard dry soil and his weight was much easier to support while standing, but most importantly he could move noticeably faster.

‘Good choice, I hope my humble work can serve you well.’ the woman smiled, wrapping her arms over her son as she watched the prince.

When she did so Ivar noticed a familiar X shaped scar that had a horizontal line cut through it placed on her left forearm.

‘Tell me, I am so curious about your culture; what is it like to be married?’ he asked openly.

He found that simply was the way Tunisians spoke; openly, the same way they show their scars. No riddles or mind tricks, simply speaking directly and giving honest straightforward answers.

The woman looked down at her arm and smiled fondly at the scar.

‘I can not pretend to know the complexity of a royal union, but…simply being a wife and mother are my greatest joys. Waking up and knowing no matter what happens my husband will be at my side, that he works hard to provide for me and our child and that he would never allow any harm to fall upon us.’ she answered.

Ivar listened, hanging on to her every word, he wanted nothing more than to make (Y/N) feel the way this woman felt with her modest business and lack of status.

Loved.

He spoke with the woman more about the population of people who couldn’t walk, and learned that he could find any number of them in the healers tents on the other side of the market. There were several children born healthy that lost the ability to walk due to illnesses and others like him who were born that way.

These children would be trained in some craft that they could learn to live off of and they were most often taken in at the castle as royal workers where they can work within their limitations while also having their own servants for assistance.

At some point Dele found him again, carrying all the things the merchants had gifted Ivar while he was dropping off the first load.

‘NORTHMEN!’ Bintu called from the entrance of the market.

It seemed that their excursion had come to its end.

Ivar gave the sweet woman the remaining gold coins in his purse, and when she refused to accept he handed it to the child.

‘I do not know the customs…can you accept this favor?’ Ivar asked playfully.

The boy smiled, literally jumping in his excitement as he accepted the money.

‘I also do not know the customs, I will ask father during supper.’ the child grinned before running off.

The woman looked prepared to call her boy back but she saw the grin on Ivar’s face and admitted defeat.

‘Thank you.’ she smiled.

Ivar bid her farewell before joining the others at the entrance trail, where they all took immediate notice of his newest wedding gift.

‘A woman sells them…for all ages.’ he said.

They all again congratulated him and listened as he explained how these compared to his first crutches, and how he was already planning to visit the healers' tents to meet the others.

Ragnar came closer and allowed his son to lean against his side while he studied one of the crutches closely.

‘Better.’ he conceded.

[heathenarmyimagines]

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?

[givemeaslowdeath-wait]

@fabulous-peasent

(Source)