#@tis-itheapplepie

[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.

[som3thingcr3ative]

Voluspa Part 5

It’s HERE!!!!!!! I promised a new chapter, and I have delivered. This one is a little slower, but things will pick up veeeery soon, I just needed to get some backstory in, some life in characters. 

(side note, this looks longer on my google docs...the next one will be longer and sooner, I promise.)

synopsis: Astrid is welcomed to the feast and to Kattegat. She meets a new ally and settles into her new home, enjoying the attentions of a certain Viking King. 

warnings: mentions of suicide, drinking, slavery. 

previously: 

“I have seen it,” I say, raising my chin just a tad. My fingers leave Einar’s fur and relax at my side. No fear. “The gods have shown me.”“

“I like this one,” Ivar muses, leaning forward once again, his eyes on me. “You are welcome here, Astrid. So long as your loyalties remain true, you are my honored guest. Welcome to Kattegat!”

PART 1 2 3 4 5 6

That night, I can relax. Old Norse takes no effort for me; it comes as naturally as any language to a native speaker, which allows my efforts to shift toward containing a disturbing number of prophecies from slipping out of my mouth. Normally, if I were to prophesy, it would be in Old Norse around english speaking people- seen as nothing more than a character quirk, but around Vikings, the prophecy would be chilling. I would be avoided at all costs if one wanted to keep their sanity. 

So for the small blessing of control, I am thankful. 

There is good ale (a bit weak compared to beer, but still enough to loosen the tongue), good food (without all of the hormones and hassle of my previous home), and good company. Vikings share their stories of raids and victories- and with enough ale, their defeats. Only once do I think of Damon; of how he would love to hear these stories from living history itself- so I chug the ale in my cup and get a refill from the blushing (and very thankful) servant girl whose arse I’d saved earlier, all thoughts of my brother banished. I learn that her name is Rita, that she was captured from what is to be France, and that by giving her the distraction needed to clean up and act as if nothing had happened, I’d spared her a great deal of pain. 

An idea blossoms. I turn to Ivar who sits to my right. “My king, could I pay you for this servant girl? I wish for her to be my handmaiden.”

Ivar’s eyes barely glance over the girl. He smiles at me and waves a hand. “You are my guest, Astrid. There is no need to pay me for her; she is yours.”

I grin at him and bow my head just briefly. “I am grateful, my King.” He nods and turns back to his food and his conversation with Ubbe while I smile at the girl. 

“Well Rita, it appears you will not suffer any more punishments. From now on, you are under my protection.” 

Rita’s jaw drops. In old french, I add “as my handmaiden, you will be given a great deal of freedom- all I ask is that you do not lie to me or plot behind my back.”

“Yes, my lady!” She replies in enthusiastic french. “Thank you so much, my lady!”

“Go get yourself cleaned up-” I hand her a small coin ‘borrowed’ from a drunken Jarl encountered on the journey here. “And get some new clothes. You are a handmaiden now, it’s best you look like it.” 

She turns the coin over and over between dirty fingers, her eyes wide. Finally she nods to me and scampers off, grinning like a fool. I allow myself a victorious smile and take a sip of ale. 

Only a few minutes pass before Ivar turns to me, at Ubbe’s goading. 

“You are certainly a puzzle, Astrid.” He comments, eyeing me. “I am told you rode here on a stallion with no tack- and then carried your own bags to this hall where you proceeded to single-handedly beat three men.” He glances down at Einar who is draped over my feet, crunching away at a cow femur. “With a wolf, no less.”

“I assure you, my King, it is quite the story.”

“Ivar.” He smiles. “No need for pleasantries, you are my guest.”

Another small smile. A gracious tip of my head. “Ivar,” I correct. “If you have the time, perhaps I could tell you?”

He raises his mug, signalling a servant to serve him more ale. Once the cup is full, he sips at it, eyes never leaving me. “I have all the time in the world.” 

My brows lift. I take a swig of ale, making a show of it. He laughs. 

“It’s one of those stories, is it?”

I grin. “It all started nineteen years ago, when my mother pushed me out of her body screaming and covered in blood…

My childhood was a pleasant one, by most accounts. I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food on the table. When I was three, my father died. As the first born, I inherited his ability to sense...things. Things that I shouldn’t have known. Things that, for a while, drove me crazy. I scared people. One man jumped off of a cliff because I told him his wife would die by his hands if he did not kill himself first. He believed me because I had been right before- another man had a baby girl- I told him that he would have an accident and kill his child, but he scoffed at me. One day he was carrying his child through the house when he tripped, sending the baby flying. She landed on her head and broke her neck, just like that. He killed himself two days later. 

We moved away. Packed up everything we had and left. My mother trained me to hold those prophecies in, to keep them from hurting anyone, so instead they hurt me. I look at someone and I know how they will die. I know the defining moments of their life and their worst mistakes. And I keep all of that bottled up inside of me. 

So I started fresh. I turned to animals instead of people. Animals do not expect things of you. They want to give and receive love, they do not judge or place blame. They do not envy or betray. If you trust them and give them reason to trust you, they will be there for you, no matter what. The best part is, I can’t see their whole life mapped out before me. I can’t know exactly what to do to change their whole path, their entire fate. It is a weight off of my shoulders. 

I helped bring Hvardr, my stallion into this world. His mother orphaned him, so I made sure he was fed. I cared for him, and when he grew, I trained him to trust me and only me. He will buck anyone else off of him. If someone tries to restrain him in any way, he will hurt them- maybe even kill them. But not me. 

Einar was barely a month old when I found him strung up in a trap. I helped him heal- and I tried to keep him wild- I really did. He’s stubborn, though, so when he chose me, there wasn’t a thing I could do to say no. Here we are eight seasons later. 

I never found love, I never had those firsts so many women have. I am not like others. I am different. And because of that difference, I see things in a totally different light. This gift is a blessing and a curse- and sometimes I wish I were normal, or that my younger brother had it, not me, but then I realize that everything I am and everything I have is because of what makes me different. 

I would not be who I am if I were the same as everyone else. 

~

Rita finds me in my room that night, shortly after the feast ended. Her hair is in a loose braid, nothing too complicated while still showing her stature. Cleaned up, I can see that she is actually quite pretty, in a youthful way. No more than fourteen or fifteen summers, if I had to guess. 

Her life flashes before my eyes in quick bursts, defining moments and tragedy lasting a brief second longer than the rest until I see her death- and I know instantly how to treat her. I smile at her, eyeing her new dress. She blushes, grinning at the floor. 

“You look beautiful,” I tell her, speaking in Old French. “Like a princess.”

“Thank you, m’lady.” She ducks her head, showing respect. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You can extinguish that torch over there, Rita. I’m quite tired from the day’s events. Oh, and I had them bring in an extra bed. I know it’s not much, but… well it’s yours.” 

Her eyes widen as she looks over at the bed. It has two furs on it for the cold night, a few feet away from my own bed. Our beds take up only about half the space in the room Ivar was kind enough to lend to me. 

“Thank you, m’lady!” She says, holding a hand to her chest as she stares at the bed. I know that it is more than she’s probably ever had- first as a frankish peasant and then as a slave, a bed to her is a luxury she’d only dreamed of. I hope she can sleep, knowing for myself the difficulty of sleeping on a bed after more than a few nights on the floor. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell her, moving to cover myself with a fur. “Good night, and sleep well.” Behind me, I can hear her move to the solitary torch burning against the far wall. Einar, curled against my legs, watches her carefully as she walks to her bed and gets comfortable. He is still wary of her, but is slowly warming up to the idea of another person sleeping close to him. 

tag list:  All Ivar tag: @inforapound​ @amy8220 @sallydelys​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​

Voluspa: @tis-itheapplepie​ @thetwistedqueen @inforapound @wuxiesalt @readsalot73​ @themusingkitten @youbloodymadgenius

[grungyblonde]

Your King

Part II

Read Part I here

“Who is that? That girl walking with King Ubbe?”

The old woman looked up from her work, rolling her eyes when she saw that you were the woman in question. “Oh her. That’s the King’s favorite slave.” She sneered slightly as she went back to her goods, “I suppose bed slave would be a better word for her. All she does is warm the king’s bed and look pretty while she serves him his dinner.”

“Lucky girl,” the patron mused.

“I suppose. She’s still nothing more than his plaything. His pet.”

***

“I still don’t why he insists on you serving! You’re inefficient, clumsy and stupid!”

You tried to keep your eyes from welling up with tears as the cook threw more items on to your shaking tray, frantically trying to prepare Ubbe’s dinner.

“Oh but the king thinks you’re pretty so of course none of that matters!” The cook snapped, talking to herself more than you. “So you get all the easiest jobs. While we sweat doing all the real work!”

“I’m sorry, miss,” you mumble as the cook shoves you in the direction of the feasting hall, nearly making you lose your footing.

“He only likes her because she’s dumb and obedient,” you hear one of the younger kitchen thralls whisper meanly as you walk out the door. “She probably lets him do whatever he wants and with that dumb smile on her face too.”

“Oh shut up, Asha!” The cooks shouts at the thrall, making you smile just a bit. The bossy cook was hateful to you but she was just as hateful to all the other slaves.

It had been nearly a month since Ubbe had...claimed you. True to his word, you no longer scrubbed floors or shoveled horse shit. You didn’t sleep on a bed of straw out in the barn, but instead in a tiny, warm room not far from the Ubbe’s own quarters. Although, most nights you slept in the king’s bed, wrapped in fine furs that you still couldn’t quite get used to.

He was kind to you...in his way. You remembered the night he had taken your virginity, how soft and gentle he was. How he reassured you how good you were doing, how good you felt. And then how he demanded more from you, thrusting into your body with a rougher stroke. His touches were still comforting and his whispers full of praise but also dominance as you started to squirm and moan, unused to being taken like that.

“My King! It’s too much,” you gasped as your body instinctively tried to twist away from his punishing rhythm.

Ubbe’s heavy breath was in your ear, soothing you, but he continued on with the buck of his hips.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, his hand encompassing the side of your face as he held you still. He rutted even deeper but the friction of his pelvis against yours actually made it more bearable. And then so pleasurable.

“Ohh,” you gasped as your body responded to his. You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried. Ubbe pulled his face back to watch your reaction, the sight of it making his own breath hard to catch. “Ohh!” Your back arched and your toes curled and your eyes rolled back and you felt like this feeling wasn’t fit for a lowly slave and you also didn’t care. Not in that moment.

You think you might have seen him smile when you managed to open your eyes but then his own were closing and he was fucking you so hard that you were sure others would hear the harsh slapping of skin. You were just thankful that the aftershocks of your climax had loosened your body and you were able to gladly receive his increasingly frantic thrusts.

With a throaty groan into your hair, Ubbe plowed into you one last time, sinking as deep as possible as he released himself. He laid like that for a moment more, trying to catch his breath as you stroked his back softly. And then with a final quick kiss to your neck, he pulled himself out and rolled over on his back.

“What is your name, slavegirl?”

Your face blushed hot as you entered the serving hall and your eyes met King Ubbe’s piercing blue ones. Quickly, you cast your gaze to the floor, choosing to watch your feet instead.

“Ale, my King?” You asked meekly as you set the platter down on the smooth wood of the table.

You peeked up to see his the corner of his lip twitch upward, obviously enjoying your shyness. He lifted his cup up to you and you felt his hand creep up the back of your covered thigh as you began to pour.

He was accompanied by his usual advisor, an older man with a stern brown who let nothing escape him. You glanced over to him to find him blank faced. “Ale?” You asked him as well.

He brushed you off, instead trying to capture the king’s attention. “Earl Arvid has sent word that he will arrive in two weeks time.”

“Hmm.” Ubbe was still focused on you, his nimble fingers now creeping up your leg to rest on your backside. “That’s good.”

“He speaks of an arrangement.”

Ubbe’s hand squeezed your ass a little more firmly and you suppressed a gasp at his outward display of...affection? No. Lust, maybe. It’s not like he had anything to be ashamed of or that the aging man before you could say anything. Ubbe was king. It was within his right to enjoy the luxuries that came with that title.

“An arrangement?” He asked distractedly.

The advisor cleared his throat as Ubbe pulled you a bit closer, almost into his lap. “It was a bit cryptic. But we should be prepared to receive the earl and negotiate whatever accommodations. We should really discuss...privately…”

Ubbe looked back in amusement. “You believe my own slave would repeat our business?”

The older man’s face flushed. “Of course not. I just mean…without distractions.”

Ubbe sighed and directed you towards the door with a slight slap to your ass. “Come back in a while with the main course.”

***

You did as you were told, careful to stay out of the cook’s way as more preparations were made. Once again you were pushed out of the kitchen with a new platter, heavier than the last. And when you made your way back to Ubbe you were careful not to stumble and fall over the threshold into the Hall.

But fall you did.

You weren’t quite sure what happened but one moment your feet were firmly on stone and then the next they were caught on the same invisible magic they always seemed to snag. Cursed by the Gods.

Your mind registered the burn as the steaming sauce escaped the bowl and splattered up your forearm. The dishes clattered to the ground, devastating your ears as they broke upon impact.

You heard your king’s heavy boots on the ground, long strides carrying him to you. He knelt beside you, rag already in hand to wipe the burning liquid away.

“No, no my king. You shouldn’t-“

“Hush.” His voice was firm and final and you didn’t dare say another word as he tended to the mess you had made of yourself. His touch was gentle as he wiped your skin, moving your burnt arm this way and that way like you were a child. He dampened the rag to soothe your skin and just for a moment you let yourself imagine that this is what it felt like to be a free woman, a woman who was loved and cared for.

“It’s not too bad,” he comforted as he inspected the burn on your arm. “You should really be more careful.”

You tried to pull back, now embarrassed by your clumsiness. “I’m sorry. They were right to tell me I shouldn’t serve you. It’s a disgrace.”

Ubbe chuckled as you rambled, only half listening as the words of apology poured from your mouth. He grasped your waist and helped you to your feet effortlessly. “Quit apologizing. The other servants know nothing. I like a pretty face to pour my drink. You’ll learn.”

“Yes master,” you whispered, trying not to smile at his compliment.

“I have bandages in my room. Go and I’ll be there in a moment.”

“No,” you went back to protesting, more fervently now. “My duties-”

“Your duty is to me, your king, and I’m telling you to go get fixed up and rest,” he tilted you chin up to him, forcing you to see that he meant his word was final.

“The other thralls will-”

“I’m not going to tell you again. Go to my room. Now.” Something burned behind his eyes and for the first time in a while you feared punishment  for disobedience. And besides that, you would do anything to please your king.

“Yes master.”

@lisinfleur @ceridwenofwales @laketaj24@whenimaunicorn @wheredidallthedreamersgo @akamaiden@honestsycrets @equalstrashflavoredtrash@givemesmutorgivemedeath @greennightspider @ivarsshieldmadien@tephi101 @anarchy-is-coming @redheadedtrollop @lol-haha-joke@therealcalicali @shieldmaiden25 @oddsnendsfanfics @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @pokeasleepingsmaug @missrobyn81@squirrelacorngliterfarts @lupy22 @ivaraddict @emsry14@courtrae89 @hallowed-heathen @tis-itheapplepie@dangerousvikings @disneyimaginings @directionlessbuthappy @honestsycrets @titty-teetee @sparklemichele @hvitserksbitch

[syriul]

A Time Traveler in Viking Court - part 12/?

How are we going to get out of this one now? You asked yourself as Ivar led you and Kyle to the center of a small crowd made up of displaced Viking men, women, and children. The size of the crowd was surprising-- Kattegat was home to at least a few thousand people, so why were there only a hundred people here?

“What do you think happened to everyone else?” Kyle voiced your thoughts as he leaned in, making sure no one else heard him. 

“I don’t know. Maybe they're over there,” you motioned towards the woods that surrounded the sizable clearing where multiple tents stood with a nod of your head.

Kyle’s gaze searched the shadowy, tree-covered landscape in an attempt to find unseen faces.

“Actually,” Ivar spoke, “they are still in Kattegat.”

“What?” You asked, startled at Ivar’s sudden intervention. 

“The rest of my people were unable to escape King Harold’s army,” Ivar answered. “They are caged in like animals and Kattegat, my Kattegat is their cage.” 

There was nothing you could say. You weren’t a king or held the future of thousands of people in your hands-- you simply didn’t know what to say.

An uncomfortable silence fell over you and Kyle as you continued making your way amongst the scattered crowd; your palms became clammy the closer you got to its center.

Your own eyes roamed over the weathered and tired faces that made up the crowd. For a brief second, you imagined the horror of being woken up in the middle of the night by an invasion. 

But I was woken up in the middle of the night by a sudden invasion too, you reminded yourself.  Images of the of the fighting in the thrown roam, dead bodies, and pools of blood flooded your mind-- you silently prayed that with time you would be able to shake away those awful memories. 

“Tonight has been a trying time,” Ivar’s voice boomed through the still, night air, effectively startling you for the second time in mere seconds, “but tonight we have been given a sign that the Gods are on our side.”

A collective gasp ran through the sea of people that surrounded you. 

“We,” he continued to speak with kingly authority that demanded he be heard, “have Gods among us!”

Another gasp, this time mixed with murmurs, ran through the crowd. Your stomach dropped as Ivar motioned toward where you an Kyle stood, side by side.  You felt the heat rise in your face as hundreds of pairs of eyes turned their attention towards you and your best friend. 

Ivar’s stone-like features, illuminated by both moonlight and torch fire, stared you down. It was clear he wanted you to do something, but you didn’t know what.  It was only after a few seconds of shifting your eyes between Ivar and the crowd that you realized what he wanted. He thinks you’re a Goddess. They think you’re a Goddess. They all want you to confirm it.

You took a deep breath, wiped your clammy hands on the skirt of your dress, and shot Kyle a look that seemed to ask for luck before taking a step forward, chin raised in false confidence, and began to speak. 

“It is true,” you bellowed out, the edge in your voice successfully hidden, “the Gods have not forsaken you.” You raised your hands above your head, becoming a living Y. “We walk among you, we feel your plights and have come to help.” You did your best to mimic the enthusiasm of the televangelists you often came across while flipping through channels back home, back in your own time. “We,” you signaled from yourself to Kyle, “are here to win back Kattegat for you.”

A silence fell over the surroundings before the people of Kattegat, who’d been chased out of their own homes, broke out into a cheer that shook the ground.  For a brief second, you wondered if their loud, hope-filled chants would attract the attention of the invaders, this King Harald, and his warriors, then you felt energized by the sheer vigor radiating from every single person present. Guilt at your finally began to knaw at you. 

You turned to look at Kyle from over your shoulder. A look of guilt that mirrored your own rested over his features. 

This isn’t going to work. I can feel it.

“Why did the Gods send you two?” Hvitserk asked from his perch on an unusually large tree stump a few feet in front of you. 

It was early morning and everyone in what you’d decided resembled a refugee camp was still asleep. Last night you’d boldly lied to everyone here, told them you and Kyle were Gods, now you were sitting among tents, trying to answer questions you hadn’t even though up answers for. 

What would be a good enough reason? Why would two Gods be here?

You raked your brain for an appropriate answer. 

“Brother,” Ivar’s voice suddenly filled the silence you’d allowed to grow, “you are bold to question the  dealings of Gods.” You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he dragged himself towards where his brother sat. His entire disposition had changed when he learned you and Kyle were otherworldly-- his mannerism had gone from slightly condescending to utterly respectful. 

Of course, he’s being respectful. He thinks you can make anything happen with a snap of your fingers.

“May I ask, where is your companion?” Ivar asked you once he’d pulled himself up beside Hvitserk.

Your eyebrows knitted together. “My companion?” 

“He means Kyle,” Hvitserk replied for his brother. 

Ivar side eyed him in return. “I would never  be so disrespectful to a God.” He spoke as if warning his brother, daring him to say another word without reverence. 

“He’s asleep,” you said, studying Ivar’s features, “and please, don’t be so formal.” 

Something behind Ivar’s deep blue eyes seemed to spark to life as you finished speaking; admiration and gratitude towards you radiated off of him. “That you would allow me to speak to you as an equal  is an honor.”

Taken aback, you gave him a small smile. Honor. It’s an honor. It wouldn’t be an honor if you knew I’m faking it. 

“Should we wait for Kyle to wake up?” Ivar asked, a proud smile spreading over his lips as he said Kyle’s names.  

“What for?”  You asked.

Hvitserk let out a small, excited laugh. “For battle preparations.”

Battle preparations..? Oh, of course! Fuck. 

Your eyes ran over the battle plans that rested before you. You weren’t sure how long it’d been since Ivar had started talking, relaying his plans for taking back Kattegat, but you were looking forward to its end. 

“You,” Ivar looked at Ubbe while pointing to what looked like a mountain range on the old, hole-riddled map sprawled out on the small wooden table, “will bring your warriors through here and wait for the signal.”

Ubbe, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, focused solely on the map you all huddled around. “And what will the signal be?” He asked, eyes never looking up. 

“My warriors will swarm the gates,” Hvitserk chimed in, “once we distract the guards in the towers you’ll make your way down the hills, storming the unguarded left side.” 

Ubbe and Hvitserk nodded in understanding. 

I can’t take this anymore. 

Without warning, you walked away from the map, turning your back towards everyone. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you. 

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Kyle was the first to ask. 

You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation and turned to face Kyle and the Ragnarssons. “This isn’t going to work,” you practically yelled. 

Ivar inched forward, a look of worry evident in his features. “And why not?”

As quickly as possible, you racked your brain for a possible answer. “Becuase,” you started, unsure of where you were heading with your remark, “because--”

“Becuase you are planning on using brute force,” Kyle finished for you. You silently thanked him for it. “I was going to bring it up,” he continued, “but I wanted to see just how good your plan would be.” Your eyebrows knitted at the air os self-importance he’d suddenly obtained I think he might be enjoying being a God a little too much. 

Ivar eyed the crude map. “Brute force,” he quietly repeated to himself as he thought over his battle plans.

Ubbe crossed his arms and looked from you to Kyle, then back to you. “What would you suggest we do then?”  

You lifted your chin up in the air, mirroring Kyle’s demeanor. “That is for you to tell us. We,” you motioned towards Kyle, “would like to see if you are worthy of our help.”

“Of course we are worthy,” Hvitserk intervened, “we are son’s of Ragnar Lothbrok, the direct descendant of the All-Father.” 

“Even so,” you continued, “you cannot expect to ride on the tails of glory your father held before you.”

Ivar looked up from the map, directly at you. “Of course not,” he agreed, “we will prove to you that the Gods are right for choosing us.” You could see an idea forming behind his eyes. “And I have the perfect way to show you just how worthy we are of your help,” he bowed his head and turned towards a man dressed in rags that stood by the tent’s only opening. “Gather as many slaves as possible,” he commanded, “tonight we will prove out worth with a great sacrifice.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. I think I’m about to throw up. This is going too far.

It’s been a super long time since I last posted, so just let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in this anymore :)

@eating-pie-in-the-tardis @titty-teetee @doklausoneverysurfacepossible @iamwarrenspeace @thehunterofthelord @justacrush @thefangirlsoul @florenceivy @marauderette130 @tis-itheapplepie @vaisabu @ketepara 

[gamesofmuggles]

SHIP #65

@tis-itheapplepie I ship you with Heahmund 

You are Aethelwuf wife, well that’s the official title. 

You have all the privilege you want, but when you can have everything you want, you always desire more right?

As the queen, you asked to be teach English 

All of your domestics love you because you know a lot about many subjects, sometimes they set on your bed and listen to you for hours before someone told you you're late on your day. 

You knew your husband was seeing someone else, so deeply you didn't feel guilty to look for Heahmund

Everybody knew about his adventures with women of "faith" but who could fight him about it? The country needed him. 

While seating at a roundtable talking about ressources for Wessex with a few men of power, as he talked Heahmud slide his hands on your thigh. Your body rigid at his touch, when the meeting was over and everyone left, only you two remaining, he pull you against a wall "He's not looking at you like the queen you deserved to be" 

As the shy and introvert women you are, he was very turned on by it and enjoyed when he could surprise yourself with a touch.

As you're relationship involved in secret, you admit you never had so much fun with Aethelwuf ever.

One day, as you had an encounter with your husband, it was too much.

"How hypocritical on you to reject the fault on me"

"I have sinned, so do you" Aethelwuf grab your arms in a strong grip not in your taste. "Fucking bishop Heahmund" with the free hand you had, and in a movement, you didn't control, you slapped him. Aethelwuf didn't move, he knew that was what he deserved. He let go your hand and turn to mind his business, when you left the room, Heahmund was leaning against the wall.

"Meet me tonight," you said, your hands still burning. 

He comes and put a hand on your cheek, 

"You're like fire, captivating and burning when we get too close"

[oddsnendsfanfics]

From Afar

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Sigurd/OFC Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: I was bored and Sigurd needs more love

"Gods sake Sigurd, either walk over there and say hi or get on with life." Hvitserk mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich.

It was the same story, every Tuesday afternoon, they would walk into The Earl and Sigurd would begin to act as if he forgot how to function upon basic human interactions. At first Hvitserk dismissed his younger brother's behaviour, up until three months ago, when he discovered the reason for it.

Sigurd would order the same thing every week, a roast beef on rye, hot mustard, no pickle, and extra sauerkraut. Each week the same waitress would walk by, toss out a friendly "Hello" and go on about her day.

"You can't just walk over to a girl and say hello." Sigurd tried to reason, watching as Hvitserk destroyed his turkey and bacon on wheat. His brother ate like an animal.

Sitting back, Hvitserk wiped his mouth - Sigurd was shocked to see him use the napkin and not his sleeve - licking his lips he stifled a chuckle. "Then how do you meet people?"

"It's not like that with women. Okay. They like originality and...well they like a guy who is clever." Sigurd shrugged, picking at the corner of his half eaten sandwich.

"You sound like Ubbe." Hvitserk rolled his eyes at the thought of how his older brother approached women. "Women like a guy who can be confident. Who can be bold. Someone who isn't afraid to take what he wants."

It was Sigurd's turn to roll his eyes. "She's a human being, not a country."

Picking up his mangled sandwich, Hvitserk sighed. "You sit in here every week and watch her. It's beginning to get creepy. Talk to her, or I'm going to ask her out."

"I don't need you picking my dates."

"Good, because I wasn't going to ask her for you." a devilish grin turned the corners of Hvitserk's smile.

Frowning, Sigurd tried his best to ignore the smugness that was radiating off of his older brother. Hvitserk was such a pain in the ass.

Watching as the waitress met a customer at the register, Sigurd's annoyance melted. How did Hvitserk expect him to talk to her, anyway? She was far out of his league and the second Sigurd walked over, she'd probably laugh in his face.

No, if she was as kind as she was pretty, there was no way she'd leave Sigurd with a shade of embarrassment on his face.

She had to be the prettiest girl that Sigurd had ever laid eyes on. He had never spoken to her directly, but he had heard her voice enough to know that it sounded like a soft summer breeze on a meadow. Her eyes were a deep, rich and vibrant colour that bore through you, when you looked in your direction.

How could he be so wrapped up, when he barely knew her name? And how would she feel to know that the dork who came in every Tuesday was secretly in love with her?

"Dude, if you don't go over there before we leave, I'm taking her out on Saturday." Hvitserk's voice interjected his thoughts.

"Fuck off." Sigurd mumbled turning back to throw a glare at Hvitserk.

"No way, I'm serious." Hvitserk pushed his chair back from the table, a rare sight. "I'm going over there and asking her out."

"Fine!" Sigurd hissed, his anger brewing. "I'll do it, but you need to leave first."

"Why?" Hvitserk dug some cash from his wallet.

"Because, if she rejects me, I don't want you telling Ivar." Sigurd scowled. The last thing he wanted, ever, was for Ivar to know he had been rejected by a pretty girl. The opposite sex adored his baby brother, despite his tendency to be a dick. If he heard that Sigurd was turned down it would lead to a life of tormenting.

Mumbling about his brothers and their stupid competitive nature, Hvitserk grabbed his coat and made for the door. Alone at last, Sigurd gathered the handful of cash that Hvitserk had dumped, along with a little bit of courage, before making his way over to the register.

There she was, an angel on earth. A Valkyrie in her own right. An absolute Goddess and a vision. Sigurd swallowed the lump forming in his throat with each step. Sweaty palms and a growing need for a gasp of air, he held himself together.

Outside, Hvitserk peered through the glass door. His nose practically pressed and leaving smudges, while he watched and waited for Sigurd's fate to be dictated. So far everything looked good, Sigurd was on his feet and upright at least. A customer inside moved and blocked Hvitserk's final view, frowning he stepped away from the door and waited for his brother.

“So?” Hvitserk asked the second Sigurd opened the door to step out. Eagerly he bounced on his feet. “What did she say? Did you ask? Do I need to go get myself a date?”

“Come on.” Sigurd grabbed Hvitserk's arm, yanking him away from The Earl. Striding as fast as he could down the block.

“Hey, wait.” Hvitserk pulled his jacket free from Sigurd's clutches. “Was it that bad?”

“Bad?” Sigurd echoed, standing frozen on the spot. “Are you kidding?”

“Man, I'm sorry. Come on, we'll go find some other girl to cheer you up. She looked like a bitch anyway.” Hvitserk slung his arm around Sigurd.

“Wait, Hvit, let me finish. It wasn't bad, in fact it went pretty well. We have a date tomorrow night.” Sigurd clarified.

“Then why the rush?”

“Because, man, I couldn't let her see me do this...” Sigurd punched the air, throwing his hands around and wiggling his legs in what had to be the worst victory dance Hvitserk had witnessed. Shouting and running in a celebratory circle, Sigurd whooped and came to a stand still. “Now all I have to do is learn how to skate.”

 @lisinfleur, @float-autumn-leave , @funmadnessandbadassvikings , @kawennote09, @smutgoblin , @nickysurfer28 , @piebytheocean, @igetcarriedawaywithyou , @lif3snotouttogetyou, @akamaiden, @angelaiswriting, @neeadinghugs, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @ilvebeenabad , @naaladareia, @tephi101 ,  @ultra-nina-bella, @tis-itheapplepie, @vikingsandetc -  if you want to be added to the tag list, feel free to do so Here

[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.’

[som3thingcr3ative]

Voluspa Part 4

I didn’t realize that I hadn’t posted since part three! I actually have quite a bit more written that I haven’t posted, so that will tide me over until I can write more hopefully. 

Synopsis: Astrid reaches Kattegat, but the complications from her journey catch up to her: Ivar the Boneless is King, and it is he who she must impress. 

Warnings: Slow burn, Ivar, Language, probably will be NSFW eventually, weapons, blood. You know, Vikings. For this chapter, not much warning needed.

PART 1 2 3 4 5 6

Hvardr stops a few hundred feet shy of the gate into Kattegat. I stare up at the battlements and think of the hours of labor put into everything- all for it to be burned down. It’s a waste. 

And I think. I think about how when I was born, I spoke Old Norse before I spoke English- or Danish, or Norwegian, or any of the other languages I’d learned since then. I think about the curse of sight I’ve been given, and I know it will be of use to me here. 

And then I think of the rune stone and the statue, and I know this is where I’m meant to be. 

So when a guard calls out ‘who’s there’ to me, my voice is even and strong when I reply.

“Astrid Seerschild,” I say. “Here on my own behalf to see King Ivar Ragnarsson.”

And the gates open before me.

I ride Hvardr into the marketplace just inside the entrance to Kattegat. Closing my eyes just briefly, I focus on the energies around me and get the lay of the land. A slave comes up to me, looking for reins or a bridle. 

“You won’t find any tack on him,” I say to the young boy. “And so long as you don’t try to put any on him, he will be good to you. Understand?”

He nods, waiting while I dismount. Not once do his eyes meet mine. 

He scrambles to help me unstrap the harness, but I tell him it’s okay. I gather the harness and my two pelt-wrapped bags and stride confidently toward the great hall- even if my gifts did not allow me to find its energy, I would have followed my ears. It is damn near the noisiest building I’ve ever been near, worse even than the bar back home. 

Just as I reach the doors, three large Vikings block my entrance. 

“What do we have here?” One asks, elbowing the man next to him. I set my jaw and stare defiantly up at him, knowing full well what he thinks I am. “Say, slave, did you steal those clothes?”

“I am not a slave.” I state, drawing myself up to full height. The position pulls my coat back just enough to reveal the glint of my sword at my hip. “And you would do well for yourself to move out of my way.” The third Viking moves to grab my face. I duck and counter, my forearm striking the inside of his elbow. I spin, hitting him on the temple with the pommel of one of my hidden daggers. He drops like a stone. “Now move!” I don’t wait for them to respond: I shoulder-check the two blocking my way and open the doors to the great hall.

A slave girl notices me. Her eyes dart to Einar, and she drops the pitcher of ale she was holding. As it shatters on the floor, the entire hall goes silent. She realizes what she did and panic crosses her face at the thought of her punishment. Her eyes cut to the figure lounging on the throne, but his gaze is locked on me.

I keep my eyes forward, ignoring the slave. It is the best thing I can do for her; give her time to clean up and escape unnoticed while the attention is on me. Einar senses my emotions and prowls beside me, his chest puffed out and tail straight behind him. He does not look any Viking in the eye. Einar knows that I will and have always protected him. He has nothing to fear from these people- It is they who should fear him.

The quiet lets me think. I can see the man’s stunning blue eyes tracing my every movement. I can all but feel the brilliant mind behind those eyes working out who I am and why I am here. I know he is King Ivar, if only because of his legs- legs that are wrapped together. He is taller than most Vikings, who are much taller than any man I’d seen. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, powerful and large hands. 

And I know how to play my cards.

“King Ivar Ragnarsson,” I say, choosing to ignore his legs and instead reaffirm his place as his father’s -the legend’s- son. “Conqueror of christians, slayer of Saxons and the one true ruler of the North lands, I am Astrid. I have come to Kattegat to offer my services to you in the war to come.”

I make sure I still have his attention, and then I dip into a curtsy, gracefully bowing my head. The Vikings around us watch. Their energies surround me, fearful, not trusting. No one curtsies, not here in the north. I have shown myself to be an outsider, because that is what I want them to think of me as. 

“What makes you think I need your help?” Ivar says, his voice sending chills down my spine as I straighten up. My gaze locks with his and I take in his posture. He’d moved, leaning just slightly toward me, his shoulders facing mine. Open, listening. Not nearly as defensive as he’d sounded. A truly ingenious move on his part. He wants me to feel fear, to feel desperate, to hesitate and take his bait. 

But I won’t. I know better. “My King,” I say, relaxing my posture just enough to exude calm. “I come from a family well traveled and I know much about the Saxons; their lands, their rulers, their politics and customs. I know their strategies and their plans.” A brief pause gives him time to understand what I said. He leans back just a tiny bit, and I know I’ve spoken well. “Let me show you what I know, Ivar Ragnarsson, and you will have the upper hand.”

The crowd seems to hold their breath. 

“How do I know you aren’t a Saxon spy?” He questions. I smile graciously.

“I give you my word that I was born and bred in the North. I have no sympathy for the Saxons, nor their god. I have been given a great gift by our gods. Allow me to show you.”

Ivar raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. He thinks for a second, and then he nods. 

“Your seer is here, in this room.” I close my eyes and can hear the Vikings mumble among themselves that he isn’t there; they can’t see him. But I can. “Come forward, Seer.”

My energies touch the Seer’s robes and draw him into the light. The Vikings pound their mugs against the tables, yelling that it proves nothing. I open my eyes and smile. “Your half-brother, Bjorn Ironside will burst through those doors in three- two-”

I point at the entrance, just as Bjorn pushes the doors open with such force that they slam against the wall. The Vikings inside are shocked into silence. 

“The gods speak to me and through me, Ivar Ragnarsson. They have called me here to do their bidding; to uphold the Viking way, to allow you to live and thrive in the change that is to come.” I let my voice drop to a more quiet tone. “I know things that no other knows. I have seen things that no Seer could comprehend. I know these things because I am from a long line of gifted family, trained in the arts of our craft. My body and mind are tied to the very ground this place stands on. Without my knowledge, Ivar Ragnarsson, every last Viking will be killed in no less than a century. The Saxons will infiltrate this land and your raids will fail.” My body thrums with the energy around me and I allow it to take over. My eyes go completely white. “Before the century is over, the proud Vikings will have devolved and split into factions of what used to be. With time, the gods will be forgotten. They have sent me to stop this future from happening.”

Turning, I smirk at Bjorn. “On my journey here, Bjorn and ten others burst out of the woods to attack my wolf. When confronted, Bjorn threatened me to no avail. When asked, he tried to send me the wrong way. Or am I lying, Bjorn Ironside?”

“You’re a monster.” Bjorn growls. “And a liar!”

“She speaks the truth,” the seer interjects, his voice like the hissing of a snake. 

My smirk widens. “Now what does that make you, Ironside?”

“You lied to your King, brother.” Ivar quips, seemingly uninterested- but he’s shifted to a better position for me; one that shows he is siding with me instead of the bad blood. His ice-like gaze slices through Bjorn whose eyes cut between me and the king. He’s caught in his own lie, no matter how insignificant. 

“And you haven’t?” Bjorn shouts, his face going red. Ivar leans back, his shoulders still facing me. Dismissing Bjorn’s threat while starting to trust me. 

The king smirks, raising a hand to trace his lips. “And what lie would that be?” He asks. I can see his devious plot; if Bjorn answers, he will incriminate himself. If he denies it, he makes himself a liar twice over. 

The trap slams shut when Bjorn opens his mouth. “You cannot please a woman, and yet you said you could.”

“Ivar Ragnarsson can please a woman, Bjorn.” I snarl, my eyes flashing white. As the color bleeds back into my iris I realize what I said and nearly recoil, fingers finding Einar’s scruff. 

Bjorn looks at me askance, a self-righteous smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “What proof do you have, outsider?” 

His shoulders lift, chest puffs out. He thinks he’s caught me in a lie- am I an outsider who has never been to Kattegat before or am I a liar who has lain with the king? Which is it?

“I have seen it,” I say, raising my chin just a tad. My fingers leave Einar’s fur and relax at my side. No fear. “The gods have shown me.”

“I like this one,” Ivar muses, leaning forward once again, his eyes on me. “You are welcome here, Astrid. So long as your loyalties remain true, you are my honored guest. Welcome to Kattegat.”

Tag: @tis-itheapplepie @thetwistedqueen @inforapound @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @themusingkitten @youbloodymadgenius All Ivar tag: @amy8220 @sallydelys

[syriul]

A Time Traveler in Viking Court - part 11/?

Your eyes shifted from Ubbe to Kyle and back to Ubbe. A sudden tension grew between the two of them, so much so that you were sure one of them would start swinging at the other any moment. 

Unimpressed with the scene that was unfolding before your eyes, you looked down towards your bare, mud-covered feet and tried wiggling your toes. As expected, you were unable to feel them. 

Great, the last thing I need right now is nerve damage.

 A gust of wind made the dress you wore flutter around your legs; you desperately hugged yourself in a vain attempt to retain some sort of warm. Your teeth began to involuntarily chatter, effectively breaking the silence that had settled over Ubbe, Kyle, and you. 

You rolled your eyes, hugged yourself tighter, and let out an exasperated sigh before walking towards Ubbe and Kyle. 

“Ubbe,” you started, making sure your exasperation could be clearly heard, “what happened? Why was the town attacked?”

Ubbe stood silent for a few seconds. His eyes jumped between you and Kyle a few times before he finally took in a deep breath and began to explain everything. “We were attacked by King Harald.” His face twisted in what you could only assume to be hatred as he spits out the name. 

“King Harald?” Kyle asked. 

Ubbe nodded. “He intends to be king of all of Norway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought Ivar was the king.”

“Of Kattegat, yes.” Ubbe finished his sentence and turned away from you and Kyle. “We should continue walking, the others will be waiting.”

“Hold on,” Kyle called out as he walked close behind Ubbe, “how can someone be kind of a town?”

How CAN that be?

You silently waited for Ubbe to answer Kyle’s question. 

“He just is.” His curt reply seemed to be hiding something. 

Something he doesn’t want to talk about, duh.

Kyle opened his mouth to speak again but you stopped him by placing a hand on his arm and gently shaking your head. Kyle understood your silent request and nodded in understanding. 

A few minutes of walking in silence passed before you broke the silence once again. “So,” you started, unsure of what you were saying, “it must be nice to be part of the royal family. I bet that comes with a lot of perks.” 

Ubbe shot you an almost confused look over his shoulder. “It’s about as pleasant as you think it can be.” 

“So very pleasant,” Kyle said, clearly trying to lighten the mood as well. 

Ubbe shook his head. “Being part of this family can be a curse.”

“How?” You asked absentmindedly as you carefully stepped over a cluster of oversized rocks. 

Wow, I really took flashlights for granted.

“The chance of betrayal looms over each and every one of us at all times.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” you said as you walked up beside Ubbe, “you and your brothers seem tight.”

Ubbe looked at you sideways. 

“I mean you all seem to trust each other.” You explained yourself.

“Once, maybe. These days I am not so sure.” Ubbe took in a deep breath before continuing. “And I have no one to blame but myself.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Kyle said as he walked up on the other side of Ubbe. “Ivar and Hvitserk trust you. And if they don’t, I’m sure they will soon enough, no matter what you did.” He sounded confident and you couldn’t help but smile at it. 

Hell yeah, they’ll trust him. Kyle, you’re the best hype man.

 Ubbe stifled a hearty, yet somehow sad, laugh. “And what makes you say that?” 

“Well,” Kyle answered, “if Thor could forgive Loki for trying to kill him after stealing the Tesseract, then your brothers can forgive you for whatever it is you did.” Once again he sounded confident. 

Without warning, Ubbe stopped walking, leaving you and Kyle to walk a step ahead of him before realizing this. In unison, you and Kyle turned towards where he stood frozen, shock clear on his face. 

“Are you alright?” You asked as you walked back towards him with an arm outstretched before you in case he tumbled over from whatever it was that had suddenly begun to bother him. 

“You- you know of Thor and Loki?” Although the only source of light came from the moon above, you could see the color leave Ubbe’s face.

What the. - Oh, no.  You quickly realized what Ubbe meant. 

“Yeah,” Kyle answered, “they’re great. Really nice men.”

Your head whipped towards Kyle and motioned for him to zip his lips with your index finger. You weren’t sure he caught it. 

“You have met them?” Ubbe took a step away from you. “You have met Thor and Loki?”

“Yeah,” Kyle spoke again, “me and (y/n) met them at a movie premiere. We’d won a contest -

SHUT UP, KYLE!

“That’s not true.” You cut Kyle off. 

“What are you talking about, (y/n)? Yes, we did. We took pictures.” Kyle contradicted you. 

“Pictures?” Ubbe asked as he grew more confused by the second.

You bit your bottom lip as you desperately tried to come up with an answer. “Well,” you started after a few seconds, “yes, we have met them. But it wasn’t very important.”

“Not important?” Ubbe looked you in the eye as he spoke. “How can meeting Gods not be important?” Bewilderment radiated off of him. 

“Meeting what?” Kyle asked. 

You shot him a look over your shoulder, a look halfway between anger and amazement, a look that seemed to say “how can you be so stupid?”

Kyle’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung open due to shock as he realized what he’d done. 

“We need to hurry, the others will want to know of this.” Ubbe broke into a smile as he began walking past you and Kyle with a new found spring in his step and sense of hope. 

You shot Kyle one last look before reluctantly trailing behind Ubbe. 

“Do you think they have tents lying around all over the countryside in case of attacks or do you think they have emergency kits already prepared that they just grab when they need to get out of Kattegat quickly?” Kyle looked around the dull, red, and furniture-less tent you’d been asked to wait in while Ubbe fetched Ivar. 

“I think you just landed us in hot water.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “What were you thinking?”

Kyle gave you a sheepish look, one that immediately let you know he was sorry. “I thought he was really into Christ Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston.”

You threw your arms in the air in exasperation before turning your back towards Kyle. “Why would you think that? We’re literally over a thousand years in the past.”

“I know, I know.” He defended himself. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No shit.” Your tone sounded harsher than you intended. 

“Hey,” Kyle urged you to turn towards him, “it’s been a long night, I am tired, and I was only trying to make him feel better. I didn’t know he’d end up thinking we were deities.”

You rolled your eyes before caving in and turning towards Kyle.

Damn it. 

“Okay, fine.” You whispered as you closed the gap between the two of you, the last thing you needed was for someone outside of the tent to overhear you. “We need to come up with something to tell them.”

“We should just tell them we’re not Gods.”

“Great idea, if you want to end up as the next sacrifice.”

“What?” Kyle went pale. “Sacrifice? I thought that was only something Vikings did in movies for dramatic effect.”

You slowly shook your head. “No, the tour guide back at the museum said they weren’t done often, but they WERE done.”

“Of course that’s what you remember.” Kyle looked past you, towards the closed tent flaps.

You smacked his chest with the palm of your hand. “Hey, I’m not the one who got us into this mess. You could have memorized some facts too, just saying.”

Kyle shook his head but kept his eyes on the entrance. “No, I couldn’t have. I never actually showed up to any of the tours.”

You were taken aback by this. Your time spent in modern-day Norway seemed so long ago that you couldn’t even remember if this was true or not. 

“Whatever, we should just play along and hope no one asks us to perform any miracles.”

Kyle nodded in reluctant agreement. “Alright. We’ll play along. Then what?”

“I don’t know.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth when the tent’s flaps opened up and in entered Ivar; he was dragging himself across the sparsely grass covered ground. 

He probably didn’t have time to grab his crutches.

“We need your help.” He spoke with a smile. A darkness had settled in his blue eyes, a darkness that sent a shiver down your back. 

You and Kyle exchanged a worried look before looking back to Ivar. 

“We’re here to help.” You spoke through a mask of false confidence.

Please, please, please don’t ask for a miracle.  

@eating-pie-in-the-tardis @titty-teetee  @doklausoneverysurfacepossible @iamwarrenspeace @fandoms-and-flannels @thehunterofthelord @justacrush @thefangirlsoul @florenceivy @marauderette130 @tis-itheapplepie @vaisabu @salty-holographic-stickers

[therealcalicali]

Thank you @dangerousvikings 😍

Please check out:

@dangerousvikings @akamaiden @angelaiswriting @bonniebird @bang-kim-bap @clumsywonderland @collecting-stories @captstefanbrandt @feistybaby @happydaysandersen @honestsycrets @heathen-whore @ivarswickedqueen @imgoldielikehawn @kingivartheboneless @laketaj24 @lupy22 @lisinfleur @multifandomshipsblog @modernivar @my-little-wolfe @mblaqgi @postedupinmytwenties @squirrelacorngliterfarts @sparklemichele @tephi101 @tis-itheapplepie @wristic @wilddrabble @ivarsshieldmadien @ivar-vikings @ivarslittlebadgirl.

Sure I missed some peeps. Please forgive me😬

Vikings Follow Chain

Hey everyone!

Since I created a new blog and just recently rejoined the fandom, I thought it was time for another follow chain. I did one of these on my first blog (cherrytrinkets) and it helped me find 100+ friends and members of the fandom to talk to and obsess with! If you write for, blog about, or just generally love History Channel’s Vikings, follow the previous people, add your blog name and reblog so others can follow you!=] Skol!

Tagging some who may be interested:

@bluearchersstuff

@bonniebird

@wanderlustingandwandering

@salimahbicharara-comun

@missbrightlyred

@brightlycoloredteacups

@sammi-faye

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Ariose

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Sigurd Snake in the Eye/Reader Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: @whenimaunicorn gave me the words Afterglow and Ariose, obviously I went with Ariose.  ariose (adj.): characterized by melody; songlike Spring and Sigurd to me, are songlike. 

The sun setting over Kattegat was nothing short of spectacular this evening, the birds were chirping their happiest songs while the blooms on the trees began to poke out. The cold had lasted far too long and it was heartwarming to see the signs of new life all around you.

Sitting on the small stoop of your cottage, you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders and sigh in content. By now you should be headed for the great hall, joining the others in a feast to honour the gods and those who will be sailing out on the raids soon.

Instead you sit on the creaky wood, built by your own hands to satisfy your need to be useful. A few of the town's children rush by, yelling and whooping as their wooden swords clash against one another. They are feeling the warm weather, as well.

"Careful there, you don't want to hurt anybody." The familiar voice warns the children, gaining your attention. Looking up from your seat, you see the third son of Queen Aslaug striding toward you.

Dressed to impress and clean from the days spent training, with his brothers. His dark blue and green tunic new for the feast, it looks better than you could have imagined. You had worked on the garment for a long time, as a gift for the prince.

"Sigurd." You greet him, patting the space beside you.

"Gods woman, you are taking long enough. Where have you been? I've been pacing the hall waiting." Sigurd huffs in a playful manner, accepting your offer to sit.

The stoop is muddy but he doesn't mind. Sitting beside you, Sigurd nudges you with his shoulder and leans in like he has a great secret to tell.

"I have a new song. You must come, allow me to play for you." He is eager in his words.

"You and your songs, will you ever stop?" You tease, flicking his nose with the tip of your finger. Sigurd is talented and bold, not in the same way as his brothers, but that is what makes him special.

Any man can try to impress a woman with an axe, but a man who impresses her with his heart is far more valuable. Bjorn is strong, Ubbe firm, Hvitserk impulsive, and Ivar fierce but Sigurd...he is sweet and that has drawn you to him.

Sigurd wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, fair red braids following the motion. "The Gods themselves could not stop me, from singing of your beauty, my love."

A real poet he is.

"You say that to all the ladies." You continue to torment the young prince. Knowing that Sigurd has had his way with one or two other women, although he claims he could never love another in the way he loves you.

"I do not!" Sigurd protested with a huff, he hates it when you tease him like this.  "I shall prove it to you, but you must come to the feast first."

"And if I am not in the mood? What if I want to stay here? The two of us?"

"You are impossible." Sigurd boldly leans in to kiss your cheek.

Returning the chaste kiss, the smile on your face is so bright it is beginning to hurt your cheeks. "You tell me it is why you love me."

"I love many things about you, my love." Sigurd confesses. "It is in every song I sing about the fair maiden who has taken my heart."

@lisinfleur, @ultra-nina-bella, @tis-itheapplepie,  @float-autumn-leave , @kawennote09, @smutgoblin , @nickysurfer28 , @piebytheocean, @igetcarriedawaywithyou , @lif3snotouttogetyou, @akamaiden @angelaiswriting, @neeadinghugs, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly , @vikingsandetc -  if you want to be added to the tag list, feel free to do so Here 

[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?

[ivarthebonelesspage]

@tis-itheapplepie thank you💖💖

@ivar-thebonerless @alexhoghsource @alexhogh @vikingsstories @ivar-lothbrok @alexhoeghandersenswife @lupy22 @vikingssource

✿ Send this to 10 other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile! ✿

You are wonderful my love!!! 

@lisinfleur @akamaiden @fandoms-add-icted @nothingeverdies @dani-si @siren-kitten-his @okay-bolton @ivarswickedqueen @ivarsrideordie @float-autumn-leave @hvitserksgirl @hvitty @noaor @ceridwenofwales @happydaysandersen @vikingsstories @sweetvengeancee @bang-kim-bap @lol-haha-joke and a lot of others wonderful girls and boys I talk/interact everyday :)

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: After all this time has Ivar finally caught his wife's trail?

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Anyone working under the delusion that Ivar would accept the fact that his wife had escaped him eventually learned that would not be the case.

His men had stopped their violent search of Kattegat, just as he had promised Bjorn, but he was still searching for her.

Even as the months went on to become nearly a full year.

(Y/N) had been missing for ten months, one week and four days, Ivar was keeping count of his lonely nights. Despite how the people talked he had not let Freydis warm his bed in his wife’s absence.

Instead he spent most of his days and nights in his war room, looking over all the maps of other cities and villages that Kattegat traded with the most. He was furious at the fact that there had been no news from any of his informants, and his relationship with his brothers did little to comfort him.

Bjorn was, as he expected, furious at his sending off warriors to such vital trading cities. He had shouted himself nearly blue when he’d arrived at Ivar’s estate; of course he let the King do his whining and even allowed him to smash his war table in his tantrum, because to him none of it mattered.

His ships had sailed, his warriors deployed and there was nothing to be done about it; not by Bjorn or even himself. Hvitserk, like he always had, chose to remain neutral in the argument. Ubbe was clearly on Bjorn’s side, but unlike Bjorn, Ubbe seemed to understand why he had acted so hastily even if he disapproved of the actions.

Currently Ubbe was the only one of his brothers who had friendly conversations with him, and Ivar would never be able to express how much he appreciated the company in these hard months.

‘Still no news?’ Ubbe asked as they both sat on the beach and watched a merchant ship approach.

‘Nearly a hundred spies and no good news.’ Ivar sighed.

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

‘My spies reported at last that they had a difficult time keeping track of (Y/N) in my time away, she would leave town alone around midday…and would not return home until nearly sunset.’ Ivar confessed, laying back in the sand and covering his eyes.

Ubbe felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he was not sure how much information Ivar truly had on the subject they were discussing.

‘You think she had an affair?’

‘I do not know, that is what tortures me brother. Not knowing things has always angered me, and now it seems I know less than ever. I don’t know if she was unfaithful, I don’t know where she is; all I know is she isn’t here.’

Ubbe had such conflicting feelings battling in his chest as he watched a few easy to miss tears roll down his brother's face. He was relieved to not have been discovered as (Y/N)’s lover, but still he was upset to see his brother in pain and know he was at least partially responsible for it.

‘If you think she was unfaithful why continue the search? Let go of your devotions and remarry, you have no obligations to her.’

'Why would I ever think such a thing?' Ivar asked, his anger visibly raising.

‘I will not let go, Ubbe.’ Ivar said as he sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

‘Not of her, not my marriage and not my anger. I will find her and she will answer every question I have.’

‘But what if you don’t find her? So far it has been nearly a year and you have had no progression in your search. It pains me to see you destroying yourself and your reputation for one woman you can replace so easily.’

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

‘She can’t be replaced, not by Freydis or any woman in this world. She feared me Ubbe, do you understand that? From the day we stepped into that insignificant Christian kingdom, she looked at an army and still she feared me the most out of them.’

‘Ivar, every woman you have spoken to fears you. It would be impossible to find a woman in Kattegat you did not terrify.’

‘I know that, but how many of them would be brave enough to marry someone as vicious as me? How many would make that sacrifice? She could have stayed quiet and let any of those women be dragged away, but she stepped forward. Those Christian men offered her up like a lamb for sacrifice and still she wanted them to live, and was even smart enough to know how to play my mind games.’ Ivar explained.

‘How could I replace a woman like that, a woman that brave, who fears a filthy cripple like me?’

Ubbe sighed and stood up, looking out at the sea and saw that the ship was nearly at the docks, but he decided he could offer his younger brother some advice.

‘You shouldn’t want her to fear you, Ivar. How can anyone love what they fear?’

Ivar looked taken aback, as if he’d never considered not terrifying his wife, but instead of responding he turned his focus over to the ship crew that was unloading the boat.

‘I don’t see how he thought he was secretive?’ one of the men said casually as he helped to dock the ship.

‘He’s young, he’s never smuggled a damn thing and it shows,’

Ivar’s ears perked up upon hearing this conversation and he quickly called the two merchants over; abandoning his own chat with Ubbe.

The two men looked over at the princes curiously; as they had not been aware of the chaotic search for the Christian nun that had occurred while they were at sea.

‘Prince Ivar, Prince Ubbe.’ one of them greeted and the other nodded in agreement.

‘I’m happy that the Gods brought you all back to us, I would like to treat your crew to a small feast on my estate in the next fortnight.’ Ivar said cheerily.

Ubbe quickly understood the game Ivar was playing and he decided he wanted no part in it at all.

He bid his brother a less than polite goodbye and left the two men to Ivar’s manipulation.

A feast for a simple unimportant ship crew was unheard of, especially a feast given by a prince. It would have been considered a great sign of disrespect to decline his hospitality.

The two men thanked Ivar for his unwarranted kindness and went to let the others know that they would all, along with their families, be expected at the youngest Prince’s estate.

Ivar watched the ship crew discuss their surprising treat and he pulled himself up onto his crutches and began to walk back to the markets.

As he limped along his way he subtly motioned for one of his spies, a thrall working outside of the butcher’s stand, to walk along side him.

Obediently the man followed the wordless order and matched Ivar’s pace.

‘Everyone under my purse is to watch the men on the merchant ship that just docked. Every man is to be followed for the next fortnight. I will expect daily reports if anyone fails to report even one hour of their actions I will have them hung.’ Ivar said strictly not looking at the man at all.

As he had wished, his warning went a long way in getting the results he wanted. He received reports in the crewmens’ every action, he’d even gotten reports describing their trips into the woods to relieve themselves.

Still no news of his wife or of what the two men suspected a crew mate of smuggling, but Ivar was sure that this was the right ship.

He had discovered the ship had sailed off the morning after (Y/N) had vanished.

Ivar tasked his thralls with preparing for the feast and he was impressed with how well they had performed.

By the night his feast was set to happen he had large tables sat outside under a cloudless starlit sky and there were heaps of fine dishes and mead as well as wine from England.

The crewmen were all in awe of the extravagant show of hospitality and everyone gave him their thanks in person.

Ivar mingled among them and was pleased that the news of his wife's disappearance had become common knowledge to all of the men.

‘May I speak with you Prince Ivar?’ one of the men asked as he approached the high table.

Ivar was quick to recognize the man as one of the men he’d spoken to on the beach.

‘Of course come with me.’

With a great amount of control Ivar calmly led the man into his home away from the festivities.

‘What would you like to discuss?’ the prince asked.

‘Forgive my intruding, but I have heard of your wife’s disappearance, and I- I think I have some information to give.’ I asked.

This was what Ivar had planned; to give the crew such a grand feast that at least one man would be grateful enough to betray one another.

‘Please, I would owe you an unimaginable debt if you could help me find my wife.’ Ivar said cunningly.

‘I can’t be sure if it was your wife, all I know is that Amund had someone in that crate. We more experienced in smuggling saw him speaking with it, sliding his rations into it even.’ the old man said.

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

‘Yes, big crate, it could easily fit one person, maybe even two.’

‘Two?’ Ivar said, feeling his grip on his crutch tighten in his anger.

She’d had an affair and ran off with some nobody; she’d decided weeks locked in a crate with another man was better than the rest of her life with him.

‘You said this man’s name was…?’ Ivar questioned, struggling to keep his anger hidden.

‘Amund, strong boy; he went ahead of the rest of us and the first thing off the boat was the crate.’

Ivar took in all this information, trying to piece together what all this implied and he determined he needed more to work with.

‘Tell me, what happened after the merchandise was unloaded. Did he hide the crate?’

‘No, the crate was in the assigned room when we all brought in the rest, still nailed shut too. The Earl granted us his hospitality to rest after our journey.’

Again Ivar was silent, trying very hard to picture in his mind what could have happened. If (Y/N) was in the crate and this Amund was the one responsible for getting her out why did he leave it sealed?

‘Big enough for two…’ he mused, thinking that if there was a man strong enough inside with her he could break out of the crate with her then she could have escaped with him.

‘Was this crate ever damaged, or moved?’ he asked the crewman.’

‘No, at least not to my knowledge, but the journey had been harder on my body than usual in my advanced age. When the Earl offered us rest I rested, but I did hear rumors.’ the man continued.

‘Rumors?’

‘The merchants spoke of one of our crewmen walking into the Great Hall carrying an unconscious woman. I never saw her, but she was the topic of much gossip while we restocked the ship.’

‘Did anyone on your ship see this woman, even a glimpse of her?’

‘I can not say with certainty, I can only say that Amund smuggled someone out of Kattegat.’

The anger for the old man’s lack of knowledge was red hot and only cooled by his relief of finally having a lead.

Thank you for telling what you could, please enjoy the feast with your family. It is a celebration in the honor of you and all traders like you, what would our world look like without brave men like you all.’ the prince complimented as he dismissed the man.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Freydis, silent as death, immerged from the shadows of the dim lit room.

‘Spread the word, I want this man, Amund identified, and followed. He shouldn’t be able to sneeze without me knowing when and where.’ Ivar ordered, his voice much harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes for him to let down his guard and let the information slip.’

While Ivar’s spies began to focus on Amund, all the way in Denmark, (Y/N) was adapted into her new life.

In the first week of her new life as a thrall she quickly realized two things.

The first was that the life of a nun and the life of a thrall was eerily similar in many regards. An older, more hardened and experienced woman would assign tasks to her and then would judge if the task was completed correctly and met her standards. If she did well she would be given another, often more challenging task, but if it did not meet Hilda’s standards there was punishment.

It was a rare occasion when (Y/N) was on the receiving end of Hilda’s wrath, which was why her punishments always seemed so harsh in comparison to the other girls.

The second thing was that, even despite the hatred the head thrall clearly had for her, she greatly preferred the life of a thrall over the life she had fled from.

Sure the shed the thralls all shared was cold and hardly much of a shelter at all but she slept fine knowing she wouldn’t wake up to Ivar’s rage.

And even better she found other Christians among the women she now shared status with.

It felt as if she had been welcomed into a new church, even if it had only been a small circle consisting of three women of various ages.

There was Kendra, the youngest being only around nineteen who had been captured and sold from York. Dawn was in her mid thirties and was a cook, she had never said where she was from originally, just that she had been only thirteen when she became the old cook’s apprentice. Finally there was Megan who was closer to (Y/N)’s age being twenty four, she was originally from Essex.

After two years of hiding her faith from her tyrannical husband, praying amongst others was euphoric. Holding hands in prayer was what she looked forward to most when she awoke at first light.

Every morning she would be awakened by Hilda whacking a wooden stick against the walls of the shed from outside before the doors of the shed were thrown open.

‘Get up! Work to be done!’ she boomed unnecessarily.

It was common knowledge that anyone still laying down by the time the doors opened would not only be promptly hit with the stick but they also would get no first meal.

The term meal was used loosely, it was only gr Rx bone broth and uncooked crops or, if they were so lucky, scraps from feasts.

Today’s meal was bone broth and carrots, after receiving her portion (Y/N) went to the corner with her small group and they shared a brief prayer over your meal before eating quickly.

‘What is your chore list today Kendra?’ she asked the youngest.

‘Caring for the Earl’s stock.’ was the answer she was given.

‘Be sure you give the chickens enough, the last few we’ve cooked were more feathers than meat.’ Dawn sighed.

‘I will be…preparing for a visitor.’ Megan said quietly, hardly touching her small meal.

At this all of them went silent.

Megan was often used as a cleaning girl around the great hall, but on the rare occasion that the Earl had important company she was a bed warmer.

It was a truly horrible fate for any woman but it seemed to be an especially cruel task for a Christian.

Every night before Hilda came in to order everyone to sleep they all joined hands in a silent prayer, but even still it was obvious Megan only prayed for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

(Y/N) reached out and took Megan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘God knows your heart and he knows your mind and spirit. He knows what sins you choose to commit and he knows the sins done against you. He will always forgive your sins and in time he will punish those who have sinned you.’ she encouraged.

Megan held onto the hand that she had been offered. Of course all the women of this small congregation were close, but Megan had such a strong connection and admiration for (Y/N).

The lie that Amund had told the Earl was widely believed and widely discussed in the markets. Meaning it was well known that (Y/N) was a runaway bed warmer herself.

It was for this reason that Megan looked at (Y/N) such wonder and great respect. In her unknowing eyes (Y/N) had done the impossible; escaped a lifetime of being nothing but a common whore for Pagans.

‘Hurry up you dogs! There's work to be done and if even one task isn’t completed then no one eats tonight!’ Hilda’s voice boomed.

Realizing that she hadn’t been focusing on her already cooling broth (Y/N) quickly drank the remaining liquid in the wooden bowl and stuck her carrots into her skirts.

Hopefully she would get a moment to sneak away and eat them before nightfall, if not then she would give it away to a beggar.

They all arose and set out to their assigned work locations.

Hilda sent a glare of pure malice at (Y/N) as she passed her on the way out of the shed.

‘If I hear so much as a word against you from the healers I’ll have you flogged.’ the old haggish woman warned.

‘Yes Hilda.’ (Y/N) replied, the air of respect and responsibility in her tone before she went on.

She had been assigned as a healer’s apprentice due to her telling the Earl she had some experience in that field of work.

Her days were spent gathering herbs and roots, mixing and brewing, occasionally there will be a person who is injured or falls so ill they need physical care and when that happens she would be the one to give them care. She would clean them, try to close up or disinfect their wounds and feed them remedies.

Today when she entered the healer’s hut she was met with the now familiar scent of living rotting flesh.

‘Girl.’ the healer, an old ragged woman named Skadi, called to her from the table where she was laying out her supplies.

‘Who is it?’ the thrall asked as she approached.

‘One of the Earl’s blacksmiths; got his foolish self cut and didn’t think to clean the sore.’

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

‘No, but he’ll survive.’ Skadi said sadly as she placed her necessary materials on a tray.

There were ropes to tie off the blood flow and restrain him, a leather strap to keep the man from biting off or swallowing his tongue, and a red hot ax in order to both remove the limb and cauterize the wound.

You hated doing this but it was necessary, the hut stunk with infection but it didn’t smell of death quite yet.

The man was older, maybe forty but clearly he’d lived a hard life to reach that age. He was quiet but his chest was heaving as if he had been fighting for each breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his head was turned away from his rotting hand.

It truly was disgusting to see a hand that mangled. The wound was still open, but no longer bleeding leaving an open gash caked in blackened blood and crusted puss.

She went about tying him down, making sure to be extra precise when restraining the arm that would soon be handless.

This was how she spent her days, in the hut with the sick and injured. It was a far cry from her old life in Kattegat. She was no longer a prince’s wife that was tended to by a full staff of thralls. Now she was herself thrall and she was called upon to do hard, truly hard, work and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the hut for the day (Y/N) found herself exhausted but hopeful that the man would be ok once he was rested.

As she made her way back to the shed she chomped on the carrots she had stored away from breakfast, thankful to have them at least in case someone really didn’t finish their chores and no one was given dinner tonight.

It was as she finished her last carrot that something compelled her to look over at the beach as she neared the shed.

There was a ship, of course there was a ship at the beach; where else would a ship be if not at sea. That wasn’t what made her stop in her tracks, it was undoubtedly a Kattegat ship.

By no means was (Y/N) an expert on such things but after two years she could single out Floki’s handiwork from any other boat builder.

Those sails, the dragon figurehead…that was not a merchant ship.

With her heart racing she hurried into the shed and huddled into the corner where she slept, but she did not lay down.

She just sat with her hands fiddling with the threads of her skirts, as she thought back to the morning conversation she’d had.

A visitor, an important enough visitor to be offered a bed warmer.

How had she not thought to ask who this visitor was? She prayed with all her heart that it wasn’t Ivar, but there was no way to be sure.

No, Ivar couldn’t know which boat you snuck onto, even if he did he wouldn’t just devote himself to hunting you.

At least not personally.

Ivar was a prince of a wealthy kingdom, as well as a respected warlord in his own right. What man would dare to disobey him if he ordered them to find you.

Everything was hitting her all at once.

She would have to leave tonight…run until she made it to the next town.

With what? No food, supplies or weapons to protect yourself? This wasn’t like the cold journey to Floki’s that last night. This would be a three day trip by foot. Not to mention it was no longer winter. It was spring and roads would be busy and therefore dangerous. A woman in rags traveling alone was little more than an invitation for a rapist on his way.

It wasn’t ideal by any means but it was either risk the dangers of the road or stay and be turned over to Ivar by whatever man Ivar had sent after her.

‘(Y/N), you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Kendra said as she sat beside her.

‘Not to be dramatic, but it feels as if I have.’

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Find Us

Summary: (Y/N) has done her job, now Ivar must do his.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten

The sleep came easily enough, even easier considering that you had gone all day with no rest and unbeknownst to you it was the most rest you would receive in months.

In the land of the living it had been three days and you hadn’t had a clue, for you it was just like any other dream. Time was irrelevant and nothing important to worry about as you walked around the abandoned market. With the information you now had you came to the conclusion that this was a Viking age settlement.

And just knowing that much made you eager to look around and see everything. How many people could say they had seen something like this? It would be an opportunity lost if she didn’t explore.

You were still in your hospital gown and had been barefoot before you found some shoes that were too big but they stayed on.

Viking mud is still mud after all.

There was so much to see, there were stands that had vegetables and fruits and less attractive ones that had dead animals hug up on display. Further into the market area you found jewelry and long stretches of fabric. Most were brown or white but others were absolutely gorgeous colors like red, blue and gold.

It was while you were touching a blue silk fabric that you heard something behind you.

Muddy footsteps.

It made a wet squishing noise; squish squish squish, getting closer but not at a rushed speed. 

Whoever was behind you felt no need to rush.

You turned around; fully expecting to see the man with no eyes to be standing there with a new riddle for you to solve, but that wasn’t who it was.

It was you.

The woman standing before you had your face, she was older maybe in her twenties or early thirties, her hair was longer than you could imagine growing yours and it was in a braid that rested plainly over her shoulder. She was wearing a brown dress and leather shoes.

Despite how much you had looked into mirrors you had never seen yourself like this.

‘Y-you.’ you managed to say when you found the will to speak.

‘You.’ the woman smiled.

‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked as she stepped closer to you.

Instinctively you stepped back.

‘Your name is Wilda, you are a Saxxon woman.’ you replied.

‘I am, or maybe I was. It is hard to understand even for me, I have been dead for so long and yet here I stand speaking with you.’ she mused.

She walked over to the fabric you were just holding and rubbed it curiously.

‘I had been wanting this fabric when I died, the woman who made this was the best seamstress in all of Kattegat.’

‘Kattegat? Is that the name of this place?’ 

‘Yes, this is where it all began. This is where it all happened, where your fate was sealed with the Boneless One. I must apologize, for I am also responsible for involving you in all this, but please know I didn’t wish for any of it.’ she said sadly.

It was weird seeing yourself like this, it was like watching yourself in a movie but you had no memory of acting in it. Either way this woman...this you, was talking and it was understandable.

‘Can you tell me what happened, why am I involved and what will happen after Ivar accepts his past life?’ you asked.

‘I do not know it all, but I will tell you what I know, come walk with me, I want you to see something.’ she said as she began to walk away from the fabric stand.

You walked beside her, still keeping a bit of distance.

‘I was a child of the church, in York. When I was a small child the city was raided by the Sons of Ragnar and their Heathen Army. I barely survived but after they took over Ivar took me in as a slave.’

‘Why?’

‘I was often the apprentice to the healers after men would come from battle. I would take care of his legs with salves and oils. He hated me, it was simply a fact but he valued my care through the years.’

‘Why did you marry him?’

‘Years had passed and I’d seen him do...horrific things, he’d won great victories and suffered massive losses then all at once he was just losing. Battle after battle his plans failed him, he was losing his fame, becoming a joke among warlords.’

As the two of you walked past the last stand of the market she led you through a trail in the woods.

‘At his wits end he called on the seer.’

‘Seer? The man with no eyes?’ you asked. 

She nodded.

‘He sees peoples’ fates and speaks with the Pagan Gods. He told Ivar that the Gods had abandoned him; that they had favored his father Ragnar despite the disrespectful way he viewed them, and they would not show Ivar the same mercy if he followed his father’s footsteps.’

‘Ragnar? I thought he was a myth.’

‘People spoke of him as if he were, but he was a real man with real feelings. Ivar loved him despite the strain his broken legs put on their relationship, and like his father he began to place too much pride in his own importance.’ 

‘Broken legs...he really couldn’t walk could he.’ you said in amazement.

‘Not on his own he made braces to keep himself upright, really they were amazing to see. Even I, who despised him, felt a small amount of admiration for his resilience.’

‘I grew up in his care, he never hurt me but he was cruel. When he came to me demanding my hand in marriage I didn’t understand. He told me it was life or death, he said he would have the church in York reduced to ashes if I refused.’

‘How romantic.’ you said sarcastically.

‘I thought so as well. From what was told to me Ivar had gotten everyone close to him cursed, exiled from all their nine worlds, left to wait for the reincarnations of both Ivar the Boneless and a Christian Girl to to reunite and his guilt alongside her love and forgiveness would be the light that lead them to Valhalla.’

‘My love?’ you asked in embarrassed shock.

‘Yes, you love him and I know it.’

‘How can you know something like that? Do you feel my emotions or something, because I’m not sure if it is more than a crush.’ you said in your defense.

Wilda laughed and was odd to hear it, you recognized it as your own laughter but you never heard from someone else.

‘My sweet girl, you are not the first reincarnation, and your Ivar isn’t the first either, if God wills it you will be the last.’

‘I’m not the first? How many have there been and what happened to them?’

‘They all end up here eventually.’ Wilda answered as at last the two of you had arrived at your destination.

You were in a large clearing. There was nothing else there to take your eyes away from what was in the center.

Two graves, both empty and two piles of dirt waiting to fill them in once there was a body inside.

Your heart was lead.

‘It is never painful, for any of them, you’ll just go to sleep.’

‘But I- I’m sleeping now...am I am I d-‘

‘No, you are alive outside I promise. All you have to do is wait, wait for Ivar to accept his faults and remorse.’

‘And if he doesn’t then what? You’re saying I can’t do anything for myself? What kind of misogynistic bullshit is this? I thought Viking women had rights of their own.’ you ranted angrily as you paced, looking away from the graves.

‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t Viking, even if I did follow their beliefs I was a thrall. I had no rights before my marriage and even with that title I was still Christian.’

‘So what? Just sit here with you and wait?’ 

‘Yes, do you have faith that your Ivar will save you?’

‘Of course!’ you shouted so suddenly that it surprised you.

All at once it hit you how much faith you had in Ivar, the one thing you had no doubt about was that he would do anything for you.

He cared for you, even if not romantically, he cared about you; and no matter what he had to do he would save you.

Or he would die trying.

‘Then wait.’ Wilda said sweetly.

Ivar’s POV

The last three days had brought about a lot of chaos.

(Y/N)’s family was devastated by the news, her siblings were scared and her mother was in complete shambles. Miss (Y/L/N) had called your father who flew out with his wife and other kids and had arrived on the second night. 

His own family had been affected as well, he had been too shaken up and crushed by guilt that he couldn’t drive so he just sat in his car feeling sorry for himself and crying harder than he had since he was a child. His brothers ended up tracking his phone and once he had calmed down he explained what had happened.

No one in the Ragnarson family could ever remember seeing Ivar this distraught before, even his parents sat aside their marital issues enough to sit in the waiting room with Ivar and (Y/N)’s family.

It was strange to see for Ivar.

His family loved each other in their own odd constipated way, but they rarely got together like this. Even Bjorn and Lagertha showed up once, apparently they all wanted to be there for him but he suspected they just couldn't get over the fact that he had a friend.

Every day there were at least four people in the waiting room for (Y/N) and one of the most constant residents was Ivar.

He hadn’t even gone to school, all he could do was sit and watch...and think about things. Think about what he had to do, because no matter what logic told him he just knew this was his fault. She was a human vegetable and was because of him.

That thought alone made his head hurt, he was constantly taking pain killers that did little to ease his headaches.

He was on his phone watching the same video he had seen a thousand times it felt like.

The footage from (Y/N)’s sleep study. 

Her mother had demanded the footage, in hopes to find some kind of clue about what led to (Y/N)’s sudden seizure. She expected to see an administration of medicine or maybe even a nurse sneaking in, anything to explain it.

Unfortunately there was nothing on the film that the doctors hadn’t already explained. For about an hour she was sleeping peacefully, a bit of uncomfortable tossing and then, like a firecracker had startled her, she shot up.

Her body convulsing as she thrashed around so violently that she fell out of the bed and if the visual wasn’t upsetting enough the scream she let out after she landed on the floor was absolutely blood churning.

She was screaming loud and shrill at the top of her lungs, all the while her body never stopped shaking, her limbs were endlessly flailing. The nurses and doctors had rushed in to restrain after only forty seconds or so but it felt so much longer to Ivar.

He watched how carefully Herald administered the sedative and the way (Y/N)’s body went immediately limp. Ivar closed the video once the doctors started hurriedly checking her vitals.

Ivar sighed and stood up to stretch, the joints of his shoulder blades cracking in protest as he did so.

‘Going home for the night Ivar?’ Miss (Y/L/N) asked as she yawned in her own chair.

‘No, just going to the restroom, might get a coffee.’ he assured.

‘Grab me one please.’

‘Of course.’ Ivar said happily.

He didn’t really need to use the toilet, just needed to move around. His legs were getting sore and he needed to take his pills and he preferred to do that in private.

‘I would have killed for a treatment like that in my life.’

The color drained from his face as he looked in the mirror and saw a most unwelcomed sight.

‘I get the feeling you don’t like me much...understandable I suppose.’ the old man said from behind him.

His heart suddenly swelled with anger as he turned and swung, ready to feel his fist connect with the bearded face of this bastard, but it didn’t.

All that happened was his fist went right through him, as if he were air, with nothing solid to connect to he stumbled to regain balance.

‘I’m sure had I been alive that would have been a solid attack, were you done or do you want to waste more time? Because your Christian doesn’t have much to waste.’ the old man said tiredly.

Ivar turned around and glared, but it softened a bit when he saw something he hadn’t noticed before in his anger.

The old man was standing.

There were unpainted metal braces on the viking’s legs that seemed to be the only thing keeping him up, along with the cane he was using.

‘Why are you here?  Are you going to kill her now, brain dead not enough for you? She has nothing to do with this, whatever bullshit this all is, leave her out of it!’ Ivar shouted, not caring if someone heard him yelling to himself.

‘My Christian had nothing to do with my problems either, and had she been as selfish as I was she would have refused to take part. Then I would be cursed with no hope of redemption, and both of our Christians would have had longer and probably happier lives without us.’ he said tiredly.

‘But she was soft, she felt it was her stupid Christian duty to help others over herself. Despite her resentment for me, and mine of her, she agreed to help my family and for that I want to repay my debt to her. In order to do that I need you to see me.’

‘I do see you.’ Ivar argued.

‘No. You see an old man in strange clothes but you don’t see yourself in me at all do you? It's frustrating because you are the last and most important piece to this complicated puzzle. The Christian, her job was to find us, you and me, now you have to see us. Really look at me and see yourself...she will die if you don’t and the loss of her will drive you mad.’ 

He felt like ripping out his hair in frustration, Ivar had never been this angry. In his youth anger was the backbone of his personality, he was angry because his legs hurt, he was angry he couldn’t talk to anyone other than his brother because he didn’t have any friends, he was always angry. But this was pure rage; red hot and scalding, he was angry because he was terrified.

‘What do you mean she will die?’ 

‘Her body is here where you can see it, but her essence is in the void between the nine worlds and a living person can only stay there a short while before their body lets them go completely. Please if not for me and my family or yourself do it for her.’

For her, all at once his anger left him.

‘J-just look at you?’ he repeated.

‘See me...and look into you.’

Ivar felt like fire ants were covering his entire body, his stomach felt ready to rid itself of the crappy hospital lunch he’d had earlier, his heart felt like it was frozen in ice; and all that paled in comparison to his headache.

He had only met the eyes of the old man for a few seconds and already he wanted nothing more than to look away.

For her.

Ivar dug his nails deeply into the palms of his hand as he held the man’s gaze.

‘There you go, see me...see all we have done.’

Then as if zoomed in like a scene from a movie he could see images in the blue pupils, and what he saw made him want to look away even more.

He saw...a boy with a dirty face it looked like he was trying to pull something, suddenly he felt like there was something leather in his hand and he pulled it back he felt the boy in the eye pull it back and suddenly he struck his hand out with all his might and watched as the boy in the eye was hit in the head by the blade of an axe.

‘No!’ he gasped in horror.

‘Don’t look away, no matter how terrible or how ashamed. Do not look away.’ the viking said, but his voice was different now. It wasn’t as hoarse as before it appeared to be...younger in a way.

The boy faded away and he saw something worse than the boy.

‘Sigurd?’

In the eye there was his brother, his hair long, his clothes strange and he was talking and Ivar wished more than anything that he couldn’t hear what his own brother was saying, but he did, clear as a bell in his mind was his older brother’s voice.

‘It must be hard for you now that your mummy’s dead. Knowing she was the only one who ever really loved you.’ Sigurd said in a strange dialect as he sipped something from a chalice.

Hurt and anger swelled and he felt something wet and thick touch his lip and distantly his mind realized his nose was bleeding heavily, again his arm jerked forward and watched an axe fly and plant itself in his brother's ribs.

‘Sigurd…’ he whimpered as his eyes began to overflow with tears.

If anyone came into this restroom they would see him standing still as a statue, staring into space as his nose bled like a red river and his eyes leaked like faucets.

‘Don’t look away, don’t run from what you have already done.’ 

‘Sigurd...Siggy I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-’ he choked on the lump in his throat, the blood from his nose leaked into his mouth as he spoke and the taste was horrid but it felt nostalgic in a horribly gruesome way.

Again the image in the eyes changed and this one was more than the image it practically sucked him in like a portal.

No longer was he in a hospital restroom; he was in a stone building and there was so much noise, loudest of all was a baby crying. He could recall this, the dream, the one he remembered in the truck that night with (Y/N) the one that made his nose bleed.

This time it was so much more, it felt like his brain was exploding in his skull, he felt an aching throb in his ears but it didn’t compare to the horror he was seeing and hearing.

He could smell burning flesh, feel the heat and as the melted gold poured into the crying man’s mouth; the screams would haunt him until his last breath.

In horror he felt his chest shake in laughter.

Just when Ivar thought he would pass out from the pain in his head he felt something he hadn’t felt in years. His legs were breaking under his weight, but that wasn’t possible, he had titanium bones, they could never break but still he felt it. Even worse so he heard that familiar cracking noise as he fell to the floor.

‘Hold strong, we both know you can take more than this, and there is so much more to see.’ now Ivar was certain the voice he heard wasn’t the voice of an old man.

That was his own voice, and he suddenly processed that he wasn’t being sucked into the eye, but the eye was moving closer to him.

No longer was the phantom standing on crude braces as an old and ragged man. Now he was crawling, using his strong arms to pull himself along, his legs dragging behind him like a useless tail.

More than anything Ivar wanted to look away and see what the face of this man looked like now but he couldn’t.

For her… for (Y/N).

He stilled himself and tried to brace himself for more pain he was sure would come.

He had been right, more pain came and no amount of preparation would have made him ready for it.

A thousand or a million images flashed in the eye going so fast it shouldn’t have been possible to follow each one, but he could. Not only did he see and comprehend each image he felt them.

He saw the light go out in a fat man’s eyes as someone was chopping into his back with an ax, he felt the muscles in his arms ache with the effort it took to stab through the muscle and bones of a man in the heat of battle.

That was when he realized that these images, these senses were all things he’d seen and experienced before.

These were his dreams.

 ‘Yes, you are remembering. That is good, almost done now; look at me.’

At last that horrible eye closed, and Ivar nearly collapsed in relief, but he kept just enough energy to look up at the face that carried the eye.

There was no longer a beard to hide anything from view he could see the face in front of him with complete clarity.

This truly was his face, it was like looking into a mirror but this mirror showed what he looked like before.

‘Finally...you see me.’ He smiled.