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ch3rrybbie · 4 months ago

Note

Hi lovely, I want to request Ivar from Vikings! I hope that's okay, if not, that'll be totally fine! 🤗

I wanna request Ivar x saxon reader who came to Kattegat as a slave and who was sold to Lagertha. In her hometown she was forced to wear a blindfold made of black lace so no one could see her eyes because they were deemed as demonic from the church. Like her eyes are really crystalline and were unsettling for Christians, and she continues to wear it even in Kattegat. Perhaps the young Rangarsson finds himself to wonder about her and one day a jealous woman rips it from her face during a festive in the main hall when she was serving ivar...?

I know it's a lot but I've been thinking about this all week. 😭✨ Thank you so much!

Angel eyes

summary: Ivar thinks your eyes must be Gods-sent.

warnings: Margrethe being Margrethe, vikings scaring reader, Ivar being Ivar.

ch3rrybbie says: love the request bby, I changed it a lil hope you don’t mind🩷 sorry it took so long lol

———

It’s been three whole moons away from England. Away from the cruelty you knew, but that cruelty was yours. It was home.

Kattegat wasn’t too dissimilar to England but it wasn’t the same.

You trudged through the thick mud of the central market. People didn’t stare at you and you reveled in the anonymity. The thin cotton you always wore around your eyes shielding your oddities was nothing to the people of Kattegat and you had grown to love it during the few days you’d spent here.

Lagethera had brought you along wanting to show you the ways of her culture. After being sold to her she declared you free yet you refused,you would not settle to a life here. You wished to serve her in hopes you could make enough money to flee home.

Slave to handmaiden.

Handmaiden to home.

You refused to learn to fight, to speak her tongue comfortably, to like the viking life. The foolish hope of home held strong within you. And yet you knew you’d never return to England you’d seen what they’d done to the village of those who’d ostracised and belittled you. Luckily your family was away selling the spoils of their labour at market.

They would’ve come back to an empty village stinking of death. The thought makes your heart clench and your steps falter.

Lagertha had playfully commanded you go out and see Kattegat, to see her ex-husbands lands. And to bring her seawater, its purpose left you clueless but you obeyed.

The heathens were strange people after all.

And yet your own had forced you to learn to squint through your blindfold to see shapes and sounds.

To live life veiled.

———

Lagertha was repulsed by the idea. The Christian rigidity that had left you believing in the need to hide your eyes.

She watched you from afar, leant against the entrance of the great hall. You were a sweet girl yet you could be so much more.

And she would see to it.

Ragnar follows her gaze, “what is so special about this slave anyways?”

Lagertha’s head whips towards him, “she is no slave Ragnar, she is blessed by the Gods”

Ragnar’s laugh almost shakes the great hall itself, he walks off still chuckling.

———

Later as the moon begins its race to the crest of the sky you braid Lagertha’s hair. The bucket of seawater stuck out in the corner.

“Why did you ask for the seawater?” You break the gentle silence and she turns smiling at you softly.

“Bring it here” she gestures towards it a sly smirk emerging upon her face.

Standing in front of her seawater at hand she starts to command you.

“Smell it”

“Taste it”

“Feel it”

You end up giggling at the foolish tasks until she asks.

“What is the difference between this seawater and England’s?”

The smile drops from your face and you set the bucket down and return to your tasks bring her dress to ready her for the great feast.

“My sweet girl this is your fate do not run from it, you will come to love Kattegat as much as England as there isn’t much difference”.

“To you, there isn’t much difference to you, my lady” the words bite bitterly at her.

She sighs and you step back from her outstretched arms. You didn’t understand her fondness of you.

“We must go to the hall” you turn on your heel and march into the frosty air, she follows carefully.

———

You pause outside, the noise reminding you of the nights spent around a fire at home.

Perfumed with smoke and stories of old.

You shake the thought away and wait for Lagertha. She come to you a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently.

“You ready?”, you nod and clench you fists at your sides as she pushes the door open.

Truth is you’d never be ready for a feasting hall full of vikings.

“Mother!” A thundering voice cuts through the rowdy masses.

Bjorn comes thumping over sweeping Lagertha into a crushing hug. Once their greetings are finished he turns to you inquisitively

“And who is this little birdy mother” you manage to grasp from your basic understanding of their tounge.

He reaches to peek under your eye covering and instinctively you slap his hand away. Your breath catches as you wait to be struck to the ground.

Instead a sharp laugh cuts at your action you turn to see someone with eyes almost as striking as yours. He regards you a cruel smile and glaringly sharp beauty confronts you. You hold back a gasp and turn from his gaze. Bjorn is also bellowing out a laugh.

“I am sorry bird, ignore Ivar” he plants a kiss on his mother’s cheek and is gone into the crowd of hedonism.

It was going to be a long night.

———

Refusing to sit by Lagertha’s side you stood ignoring the curious looks from Aslaug.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Ivar. It was so strange, he didn’t seem to mock you.

“Hello birdy” a gruff tease voice floats out behind you.

You whip round to see a man that looks exactly like an older Bjorn, Ragnar you conclude.

“Why do you stand here all alone, hmm? Lagertha tells me you are a free woman, here free woman can do as they please you should try it!” He chuckles and it takes you aback, he doesn’t know you yet he treats you like he has for years.

You don’t speak and turn to watch the crowds further, eyes searching for Ivar.

He’s looking right back at you, with a gasp you turn away.

“You know, I had a friend like you once” Ragnar whispers, voice taught with emotion. The pain in his voice pulls you from thoughts of Ivar.

At that you turn and take him in. Towering next to you he looks deep in grief. Eyes watery and gone to distant memories, you recognise it all too well.

“I’m sorry for your loss” you murmur, their language is crude and harsh on your tounge.

Your voice pulls him back, he grabs your shoulder and thanks you with a smile.

And once again you’re alone amongst heathens.

———

“Girl! Come serve me wine” a voice throws its self against you cutting through the bustle of the hall.

Ivar.

“Ivar do not command her like that!” Lagertha bites at him.

You frown at her remark and make your way over.

Aslaug is watching you as though you are a mirage, you ignore her stares and focus on the task at hand.

“She is no servant, please sit down” Lagertha implores you and you ignore her, Ragnar watches on curiously.

Fingers clasping over the mead jug you come closer towards Ivar ignoring the way he drinks you in.

“Surely she’s just a servant” a pretty blonde remarks from a group of boys, the rest of Ragnar’s sons you presume.

“You will watch your tongue upon my mother’s friend Margrethe” Bjorn booms at her, seemingly tired of her presence.

Lagertha frown and you lean to pour Ivar more mead.

“Thank you” he grins up at you, ignoring him you turn to be met by Margrethe.

“Why do you wear that silly cloth on your face?” She giggles and takes you in.

Everyone watches with bated breath.

Someone cuts out her name as another warning.

Attempting to step past her you don’t make it far.

“Here let me help you slave”

Her nails scrape against your skin, harsh in its endeavour.

The room brightens and grows in life as you see it more clearly.

An outraged roar emerges as Margrethe is chastised greatly. Everyone turns to look and the same whispers you’ve heard your whole life break out.

“Blessed Freya” sounded in a wave of murmurs.

The seer shuffles over parting the crowd and you retreat slowly. His interest peaked at such an odd display.

“My child you are kissed by the Gods, you shall see to their vision” his words curl through the fog of fear.

Embarrassed you flee the hall into the icy night and collapse in a heap by the fjord.

Finally you have peace.

They hadn’t cast curses or spat at your feet. They were almost reverent in their discovery of you. Perhaps they truly believe you were someone sent or blessed by their heathen Gods.

A repetitive click and shuffle sounds behind you and you whip around to see Ivar approaching. Embarrassed you turn back to look at the still waters, struggling to think upon his intentions. He groans as he lowers himself aside you.

“You know you didn’t have to run off so quick birdy” he chuckles cruelly

“You would do well not to mock me” you bite back and he simply laughs in your face.

“Maybe you really are sent by the Gods, no other woman in the whole of Kattegat would speak to me this way” he seems to grow serious and take you in.

Fixated on your eyes he stares into them, “They really are beautiful you should not cover them anymore, I command it so”.

“You command it so!” You can’t help exclaim incredulous. Dragged from home and commanded by the bratty son of a king.

“Yes I command it so!” He giggles and watches your perplexed face. You resort back to silence and the pair of you just sit there until he coaxes you to talk of England.

So you do.

You tell him of its fields and wildflowers. How the moon feels different and the sun is sweeter. How the grass will always be greener to you and the songs louder.

And for once he just listens and he knows you were meant for him. Every laugh and lilt makes his heart climb. Without telling you he makes a prayer to the Gods commanding you be by his side every day till death do you part. That you may tell him what you please and speak how no woman ever had to him.

And for the first time you’d found something wholly dissimilar to England and you wouldn’t compare it for all the homesickness in your heart. You could not have found Ivar in England. You would never have found the appreciation of your beauty there.

With the intermission of his laugh at your tales, you thank his Gods and yours for kissing your eyes.

———

Lagertha and Ragnar watch your silhouettes from the mouth of the great hall. They needn’t speak the thoughts they share but they know the nights they’d spent together talking till the sun kissed the fjord had seemingly come to life in front of them.

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milkb0nny · 6 months ago

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Touch Cannot Lie

Pairing: Ivar x blind!reader

Summary: You were born without sight, but it never hurt your confidence as much since you managed to navigate and live just fine. However, other people belittle and underestimate you, which builds frustration. Though, one day you would learn someone else was feeling the same way.

Note: So, I haven't been active for some time but I'm trying to get back into it. I've been a lot into vikings and supernatural again, which is why I'm feeling motivated. 💕🫶 With that, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: fluff and butterflies in your stomach

Word count: ~1200

You stepped through the snow, its cold crunch beneath your boots breaking the silence of the forest. The paths were familiar, stuck in your memory from countless adventures shared with your siblings. These woods were more than trees and trails - they were a place of cherished moments with your beloved brothers. Your siblings had always believed in your strength, your courage, even though you couldn’t see the world as they did. They saw you as you, not as blindness.

The gods had denied you sight, but in its place, they blessed you with keen senses and an ability to see the truth in others. You learned to navigate not just the world, but the depths of people, detecting their intentions with ease. Over the years, you encountered every kind of person: those who pitied you, those who patronized you with unwanted help, and those who pried with questions born of insensitivity. You rarely encountered interest in your person, only the challenges of being blind bothered others. Yet, amidst them all, one man stood apart; someone who saw you for who you truly were, treating you with respect and dignity.

As you made your way deeper into the woods, the stillness was broken by the sound of footsteps. There was something distinct about them, something you have heard before. A rhythm accompanied by a dragging noise, as if someone were pulling a heavy object. Though they weren’t heading back toward the town, but deeper into the forest, just like you did. Before you could wonder further, voices emerged, familiar and comforting.

“Y/N!” a voice called, clear and warm. It was Ubbe. A smile crept across your face, and your pace quickened toward the raspy voice.

“Ragnarssons, what brings you out on this winter’s day?” you asked softly, moving confidently toward the voices.

“Careful, don’t fall,” Hvitserk said, reaching out to guide your hand, but you declined with a slight shake of your head. You continued steadily until you reached Ubbe and Ivar.

Ubbe spoke, explaining that they were discussing family matters and strategies for their revenge against the Saxon kingdom. You listened intently, walking beside Ivar and matching his pace. Ivar‘s voice filled the breezy air as he turned his attention to you.

“What about you? It’s rare to see you alone, Y/N,” he asked gently, though his eyes - unseen to you - glued on your frosty hands which were slightly red already.

“My brothers are busy preparing for the next feast in the grand hall,” you explained with a light chuckle. “I needed a walk to clear my head. Sometimes calmness is the best companion. Though, I imagine you know a thing or two about that, with all those brothers.”

The Ragnarssons laughed, their light heartiness warming the icy air. You had grown up alongside them in a way; your paths had crossed many times in Kattegat especially the past years, forging a bond that was both familial and unique. The conversation shifted back to their plans, but soon another set of hurried steps approached.

“Ubbe! Bjorn needs us for an urgent discussion,” came Sigurd’s voice. “He hasn’t had much time for us lately, but this is important.”

Hvitserk hesitated, glancing toward you. “Then we’ll go,” he said, “but Ivar, can you stay with Y/N? Just to ensure she doesn’t lose her way back to the town.”

The words stung, though you masked it well. Once again, you were reminded of how others saw you. Not as the capable person you were, but as someone fragile and in need of protection. You knew the paths throughout, and you trusted your senses well enough to not lose track. Though you appreciated their care, it still hurt to be defined by your blindness.

“I’m sorry for being a burden,” you murmured, frustration slipping into your voice.

“That’s my brothers’ foolishness, not yours,” Ivar replied quickly, his tone firm yet kind. “Do you want to walk further? I don’t mind spending time with you. I would not find a place in their discussion anyway.” He was mad about the fact he had been left alone once again, but he didn’t mind that he had the opportunity to be with you alone.

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth spreading through you as he lingered by your side. He understood your struggles in a way few could. You liked that, the way he never asked if you were struggling because of your eyes.

Kneeling down to meet his gaze, you felt his presence. A warmth that contrasted with the chill of the snow. The scent of leather and iron lingered around him. “I wish I could see you, Ivar,” you said softly. “I imagine you look simply human, despite what others say about your legs. Maybe you look like a god. Or perhaps a beast. Or maybe something else entirely.”

Your words spilled out before you could stop them, and the blush rising to your cheeks portrayed your embarrassment. Ivar, however, found your flushed face endearing, a rare vulnerability you shared only with him. A moment which only the two of you shared, which he would take advantage of.

“I wonder the same,” he admitted with a small smile. “Would you like me to guide you? Not to help, but to let you see in your own way.”

Your hand hesitated before reaching out, and his cold fingers enveloped yours with surprising gentleness. He didn’t feel violent but you knew his temper well enough. Up to this point you rarely touched him, perhaps a few times as a kid. Though, this moment was something different - a side of Ivar you haven’t heard of yet.

He guided your hand to his face, resting it lightly against his cheek. His skin was cold, yet the moment felt electric. Your heart fluttered as your fingers traced the contours of his face - his strong jawline, the curve of his lips, the furrow of his brows, the shape of his nose. Ivar guided you, and you followed along with a racing heart.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, his grip firm but kind. “I’ve seen you do this with your brothers. It’s how you imagine what we look like, isn’t it?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. His understanding touched you deeply. As your hands roamed carefully over his features, you noticed yourself savoring the moment.

“So,” he asked, a teasing edge in his voice, “am I a god or a monster?”

“You’re neither,” you said with a quiet laugh, your hands cupping his face. “You’re just human. But a very unique one.”

His eyes softened, though you couldn’t see the admiration in them. In this moment, he felt truly seen, not for his weaknesses, but for his humanity. And for the first time in a long while, so did you.

#ivar the boneless x you #ivar x reader #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings x you #vikings #vikings x reader #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson

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mads-weasley · 6 months ago

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Next Time

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After being pushed by Ivar and the rest of his brothers, Hvitserk finally speaks to the girl he'd been admiring for months, but an unwelcome interruption breaks the conversation before he can get more than her name.

Word Count: 1.1k

The great hall was alive with chatter, but Hvitserk didn't may it any mind. His attention was stuck across the room...on her.

"You are staring again, brother," Ubbe commented gruffly, sipping his ale.

Hvitserk grinned, his eyes not leaving her figure. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Ubbe?"

With a grunt, Ubbe returned to his meal and ignored his younger brother. A few minutes later, Ivar and Sigurd joined them, and all it took was an annoyed glance from Ubbe to cue them in on the situation.

"I don't know about you, Hvitserk," Ivar said, following his gaze to the girl. "But I think I will go talk to her."

Hvitserk finally tore his eyes from her, his lip twitching as he glared at his brother. "You will not, Ivar."

"And who will stop me?" he shrugged. "If you do not wish to speak to her, why can't I?"

Sigurd chuckled at Hvitserk's pouting expression but quickly hid it behind his cup of ale when his older brother's scowl turned to him. He knew they were right, of course, but it was easier to stare from a distance and admire...he didn't even know her name.

He was going to learn it tonight, he told himself as he rose from the table with a grunt. Downing the rest of his almost full cup, Hvitserk wiped his mouth and set off across the room.

Noticing the commotion from her throne, Auslaug watched Hvitserk cross the hall before shooting her oldest son a raised brow. Ubbe did nothing but chuckle and shrug back at his mother. If he was being honest, he was just happy Hvitserk was doing something about his crush. It had been months since the girl first arrived in Kattegat. He'd grown tired of Hvitserk's longing expressions and endless comments about the poor girl he was clearly infatuated with. They ribbed him endlessly about talking to her, but he remained in his seat each time, choosing to look instead of speak.

Hvitserk wove through the crowded hall with more confidence than he felt, the warm buzz of ale bolstering his courage. He thanked the gods he wasn't doing this sober because he probably would still be sitting beside Ubbe, watching her from afar. He ignored the knowing glances from his brothers at the table, especially Ivar, who wore a smirk as wide as the fjord before Kattegat.

Her back was to him, her (y/h/c) hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed at something one of the women beside her had said. Hvitserk couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling his nerves flicker in anticipation.

When Hvitserk reached the empty seat beside her, he hesitated briefly before pulling it out and plopping down in it with forced casualness.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, though it was clear he’d already decided to stay.

She glanced at him, her (y/e/c) eyes flickering with curiosity. “It would seem you’ve already made the decision, Hvitserk.”

Her voice was steady but amused, and the way she said his name...like it wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him...sent a spark of surprise through his chest. Hvitserk leaned back in his chair and quickly glanced over his shoulder at his brothers, trying to mask his excitement with a grin.

“Well, I thought it was about time we spoke,” he said, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “You’ve been in Kattegat for a while now, yet we haven’t been properly introduced.”

She raised a brow, clearly skeptical. “And whose fault is that?”

Hvitserk chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Fair enough. I guess I could've come over sooner, but...better late than never, yes?"

“You have an interesting way of making first impressions, Ragnarsson,” she replied with a playful glint in her eye. “But I’ll allow it. I’m (y/n).”

Hvitserk’s grin widened. “(Y/n),” he repeated, testing her name out, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. “It suits you.”

“And what exactly have I done to capture the attention of one of the great Ragnar Lothbrok’s sons?” she asked, her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

"You haven't done anything," he said, leaning closer, his grin growing into a cocky smirk. "It's hard to ignore someone who could make even the gods stop and stare."

Heat rushed to (y/n)'s face, and she laughed softly, looking away from his gaze. She knew he was handsome from a distance, but up close...with those eyes and that smirk...she felt herself melting.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud voice from behind her beat her to it prompting her name. "Do not let him fool you..."

(Y/n) turned around in her chair to look at the man, but her eyes fell to the ground...or rather who crawled on the ground. "(Y/n)."

Hvitserk groaned audibly, though he didn't look at his brother. "Not now, Ivar."

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Ivar said, smirking as he shakily used Hvitserk's chair to push himself to his feet. He looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s been staring at you like a lost pup for months.”

Leave it to Ivar to ruin a perfectly good conversation. Hvitserk could've strangled him right there.

“Ivar!” Hvitserk snapped, his face flushing as laughter erupted from the nearby tables.

(Y/n) forced herself to regain composure, tilting her head once again as she met his gaze. Her voice came out teasing, though the nervousness beneath was evident. “Is that true, Hvitserk?”

He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. “I suppose I have been...admiring you. From a distance,” he admitted sheepishly, shooting a pointed glare at Ivar.

“Well, next time, don’t wait so long to speak to me,” she replied with a smile, unable to hide a hint of affection now.

Hvitserk blinked for a moment, stunned. “Next time?”

She didn't answer and instead rose to her feet, leaving him sitting there as she walked toward the doors. Before disappearing into the cold night, she sent him one last smile.

Ivar's laughter followed her departure, his grin as sharp as ever "You're hopeless, poor Hvitserk."

Hvitserk watched her go, a slow grin spreading across his face despite himself. “Maybe. But at least she wants there to be a next time.”

"She will see she made a mistake, brother...once she gets to know you."

His eyes cut over to Ivar, who stared back with raised brows. In one movement, Hvitserk slid his chair back and stood, making Ivar lose balance and flop onto the hard floor with a loud thud.

"Oh no," Hvitserk tutted, staring at his wheezing form with a smirk. he didn't even try to hide it. "You must be careful, little brother."

A/N: message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

#hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk fluff #hvitserk vikings #ivar the boneless #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings #ubbe #sigurd ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #vikings imagines #hvitserk raganrsson x reader #hvitserk imagines #vikings x reader #hvitserk x y/n #hvitserk x you #vikings history channel #hvitserk ragnarsson imagines

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1-800-choke-me · 1 year ago

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Hvitserk: I sleep with an axe under my pillow

Ubbe: I sleep with a knife under mine

Y/N: you're both pathetic

Hvitserk: oh yeah, than what do you sleep with?

Y/N: Ivar

#vikings tv #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk #ubbe ragnarsson

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fantasydreamland · 7 months ago

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How the Viking men would look at you after inviting them to your bed

Ragnar

Rollo

Athelstan

Bjorn

Ubbe

Hvitserk

Sigurd

Ivar

masterlist

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago

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Sitting Down on Their Lap

Ragnar: First he would be a bit cautious trying to work out why you chose that particular time to do that. He might get you to explain yourself and give you some playful jibes about it but would most likely play along and snuggle against you making sure to tickle you a few times, it's his duty after all.

Athelstan: His eyes widen in shock as you gracefully plop down onto his lap. He can feel his jaw drop at the unexpected weight and warmth, and his heart begins to skip beats. His whole body feels flushed and his palms begin to sweat. "Wh…what are you doing?" He'll question you but will let you stay.

Floki: He would be taken by surprise but ultimately amused by this unexpected development, as it is clear that you are just being playful. He responds by wrapping his arms around you, his fingers dancing up and down your sides as he pulls you tighter into his lap. He'll ask playfully, "Well, what have we here?"

Lagertha: She loves it when you randomly sit on her lap. It's unexpected and intimate and shows a level of comfort and trust between you both. It reminds her of how much you just want to be close to her, even if you have no idea how it affects her. It's a simple, but powerful gesture that shows your warmth, and your connection.

Aslaug: She'd be a bit surprised at first, but then she'd wrap her arms around you and give you a kiss, pulling you close to her so you're close as close could be.

Bjorn: Bjorn's heartbeat speeds up, and he glances down at you to see what you are doing. The sudden invasion of space is unexpected, but the contact sends a jolt through Bjorn as he feels your warmth. He puts his arms around you, pulling you closer, leaning his head down until his face is close to yours to kiss you.

Ubbe: He wraps his arms tight around you without a second thought, pressing you into the warmth of his chest. His hands find the curve of your hips as he pulls you even closer. Your weight is comforting and familiar like you belong there. He'll caress your soft hair, running his fingers up and down your neck.

Hvitserk: Well, he’d first laugh. Your sudden weight would catch him off guard, and the fact that you would be so silly as to plop down on his lap would be quite comical to him. He’d take that as a chance to squeeze you as tightly as he could, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you.

Sigurd: Initially surprised, but then immediately pleased. He would wrap his arms around your hips and pull you closer to him. After a moment he would gently push you to your feet and stand up, then gesture for you to sit on the couch next to him. Sitting closely together, he would wrap an arm around you and squeeze your body against his.

Ivar: A slight smirk crosses Ivar’s lips as you plop down in his lap. He wraps his right arm around you, pulling you in a bit closer, while his other hand moves down to caress you. He leans forward, his lips close to your ear, and he whispers, “I don’t mind one bit.”

Halfdan: He'd be startled and maybe a little bit annoyed at first, but he'd also find it endearing. You would likely be seeking out an affectionate reaction from him, so he'd give you what you were looking for. He'd wrap his arms around you and kiss your head.

Harald: He would wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head as you sit in his lap. He would smile down at you, amused by how unpredictable you can be sometimes. He would kiss your forehead and pull you closer to him, savoring the moment.

#ragnar lothbrok x reader #athelstan x reader #floki the boat builder x reader #floki x reader #lagertha x reader #aslaug x reader #bjorn ironside x reader #ubbe x reader #hvitserk x reader #sigurd x reader #ivar x reader #ubbe lothbrok x reader #hvitserk lothbrok x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #halfdan the black x reader #harald finehair x reader #vikings #v

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velvetvowsandvikingdreams · 2 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚Two Wolves, One Lamb˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Summary: They want you both, but who will you ever choose?

Warnings: mdni, smut!, love!triangle, emotional manipulation, toxic!relationship, obsession, longing, angst!, jealousy, possessive!behaviour, power imbalance, dark romance, guilt, cheating?

Pairing: ivar x reader, hvitserk x reader

Words: 1,8k

Note: Wanted to experiment with this one; enjoyᝰ.ᐟ <3

You were just a slave—nothing more, nothing less. But somehow, that made them want you even more.

Both brothers, drawn to you like wolves circling prey. Both desperate to claim what they shouldn’t have.

Being with Ivar was like drinking something forbidden—bitter, heady, and utterly intoxicating. He was obsessive and intense, his love hidden beneath sharp edges and cold silence. He didn’t know how to be soft with you, not really—afraid you’d see it as weakness. But you knew better. You felt the quiet tremble in his hands when he touched you. You have seen the flicker of fear in his eyes—fear that you'd leave.

Hvitserk, on the other hand, was all warmth. He burned bright, easy to fall into. He loved with open arms and an open heart—romantic to a fault, always whispering how much he needed you, how deeply he felt. He made you feel seen. Like you were more than what you were born into. You loved them both. Equally. Differently. Painfully.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

When you lay with Ivar, he would slip his hand into yours, pulling you closer beneath the furs, his bare body pressed to yours like he could mold himself into your skin. His voice would crack, soft and afraid, when he whispered, "Do you love me?" And in the silence that followed, you would feel the weight of his hunger, his fear.

Hvitserk was no better. He would catch you in his arms and carry you to his bed like you were something fragile and precious. He kissed your skin like it was sacred, trailing his mouth down your neck, your chest, your thighs. And then, with that same aching need, he would ask, "Does he kiss you the way I do?"

You never had answers. Not for either of them. Because if you could, you would have them both.

One night, Ivar broke the silence, the question lingering in the dark between you.

"You love my brother, don't you?"

Your breath caught. You turned to him slowly, the words thick on your tongue. "No, Ivar. I… I care for you. I care for both of you."

He flinched like you’d struck him. "But you can only love one."

Your words weren’t sharp, but they carved into him anyway.

"I care for both of you."

He stared at you—bare shoulders glowing in the firelight, the furs barely clinging to your hips—and felt something cold spread in his chest. Not anger. Not yet.

Something worse.

He turned his face slightly, jaw tight. Of course you cared for Hvitserk. Everyone did. He was golden, gentle, open. He smiled too easily and touched too much. He didn’t deserve you—but somehow, he still had a part of you. And that drove Ivar mad.

He looked back at you, eyes cold as ice. "You care for both of us?" he repeated, voice low. "So which one of us do you fuck because you want to, and which one out of pity?"

You opened your mouth, shocked—but he didn’t give you the chance to speak. He shifted, pushing himself up slightly on one arm, the furs falling from his chest. "He touches you like a poet," he hissed, "and you let him. You like it."

He leaned in then, so close his breath ghosted over your lips. His hand cupped your jaw—rough, full of desperation.

"I don’t love like him," he said. "I don’t know how. But I’d kill for you. Does that count for nothing?"

You didn’t pull away. That was the worst part. You just looked at him with those soft, guilty eyes that made his insides twist.

"Ivar…" You whispered, but he shook his head.

"No. Don’t say my name like that. Not if you say his the same way in the dark."

His grip tightened slightly, jaw clenched. He wanted to kiss you. Or leave. But he did none of those things.

Instead, his voice dropped to a tremble. "You can’t love both of us. And you don’t get to pretend you can."

You didn’t breathe at first.

The way he looked at you—it was more than anger. It was betrayal, heartbreak, need.

"Ivar," you whispered again, softer now, more like a plea. You didn’t even know what you were begging for—mercy, understanding, forgiveness?

He shook his head, and the firelight caught the tightness in his expression, the pain swimming in his eyes. It gutted you.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," you said.

"But you are." His hand fell from your face like it weighed too much to hold. "Every time you leave me, every time you smile at him, every time he looks at you like you’re the sun and I know I’ll never be that—you hurt me."

You felt it then—the shift. The silence wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of everything unspoken.

"Idon’t want to be a choice," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "I want to be the only thing."

You swallowed hard, your voice shaking. "And if I can’t choose?"

He leaned in, his lips pressing yours.

"Then I’ll make you."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

You always felt safest in Hvitserk’s arms. That was the problem.

He made it too easy to forget that your heart was split in two. Too easy to believe, even for a moment, that you were allowed to be loved.

His hands were warm when they touched you, calloused from battle but reverent in the way they traced your skin. Like you were something rare.

You were in his bed now, tangled in furs, your breath still catching from his kiss. He hovered above you, lips brushing your collarbone, your jaw, your mouth—always returning like he couldn’t stay away for long.

"I hate the way he looks at you," he whispered against your skin, voice low and raw. "Like he already owns you."

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because part of you liked the way Ivar looked at you. Just like you loved the way Hvitserk touched you.

His fingers slid down your arm, laced gently with yours, grounding you. You looked up at him and saw the emotion in his eyes—thick, unguarded, like it hurt to keep it all inside.

"Do you love him?" he asked suddenly.

The words hit you like a cold wind. Not because they surprised you, but because you’d already heard them—whispered in Ivar’s voice, filled with pain.

Your silence was enough.

Hvitserk sighed, forehead dropping gently to yours. "Gods, I hate this," he muttered. "I try to be patient. I try to wait for you to choose me. But every time I see you with him, it feels like you’re slipping further away."

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the line of his jaw. "I never meant to fall for either of you."

His laugh was soft. Sad. "But you did. And now here we are. Sharing someone we both want to keep for ourselves."

He kissed you then—slow, deep, like he needed to memorize the shape of your mouth, like he thought this might be the last time. And when he pulled back, his voice cracked just enough to make your chest ache.

"Tell me, just once, that you feel more when you’re with me. Tell me he doesn’t make you feel like I do."

But you couldn’t. Not honestly.

Because he did. And he didn’t. They both did—each in their own way.

And it was tearing you apart.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

You should’ve walked away.

From Ivar’s bed. From Hvitserk’s touch. From the way both of them looked at you like you were something holy—or something the other wasn’t allowed to have.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You let Ivar’s jealousy crack open your chest and crawl inside. You let Hvitserk’s kisses calm your guilt just enough to crave more. You told yourself you’d end it. One of them. Both of them. Soon.

But the next night, Ivar asked for you.

And you went.

Without any hesitation.

He didn’t speak at first. Just pulled you in, eyes dark and unreadable, and kissed you like he wanted to silence the whole world. There was no gentleness. Just teeth, hands, heat—his desperation turning into fire between your legs. He made you moan his name, made you promise you were his.

And you did.

You promised.

Even if you didn’t mean to.

But two nights later, you were in Hvitserk’s arms again.

He kissed your shoulders like he was afraid they might disappear. He touched you like worship, slow and aching, whispering your name like a prayer. Afterward, his hand rested over your heart like he was trying to feel what belonged to him.

"I don’t care," he whispered into your neck. "Even if he has a part of you. I just want mine."

And you let him believe he still had it.

Maybe he did.

Maybe they both did.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

You closed your eyes. And it’s Ivar. Then it’s Hvitserk. Then Ivar again.

"I want to ruin you," Ivar breathes against your neck, fingers gripping your thighs like he’ll carve himself into you.

"You’re beautiful like this," Hvitserk whispers, lips brushing your breasts as he eases you down onto the furs.

Ivar bites, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to remind you who you’re with. Who you belong to.

Hvitserk worships, touches you like you’re soft and breakable, like he has all the time in the world to make you come undone.

"Say it," Ivar growls, his hips thrusting against your core. "Say you’re mine. Just mine."

"You feel everything with me, don’t you?" Hvitserk asks, holding your face in his hands, eyes full of something too tender to look at for long.

"Don’t think about him," Ivar hisses. "Not when I’m inside you."

"Does he make you tremble like this?" Hvitserk whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his rhythm slow and deep.

You cry out, not sure whose name slips from your mouth. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

Ivar hears what he wants. Hvitserk hears what he fears.

"I would kill him," Ivar says, voice low, possessive. "If he ever touches you again."

"I’d let you go," Hvitserk says quietly, "if I thought he made you happier."

And for a moment, you don’t know which one you’re lying with.

Because they both touch you the same now, like they’re afraid to lose you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　　

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

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Where Am I?*Part Five

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 1531

Warnings: reader learning archer, sassy bjorn, emotionally complex ivar, threats, time travel, drinking, hangover

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three Part four

Masterlist Here

Last night had been the first truly relaxing nights of your stay so far. You drank, sang guitar round a campfire on the beach, learned some Viking songs and tall tales, and now woke up with a splitting hangover. “Time to get up,” Ubbe said as he opened the door.

You just grumbled in response, pulling the covers further over your head. You heard sighing then footsteps then suddenly felt the shivering cold. Ubbe stood grinning over your, “Revenge,” he grinned down at you, offering you a hand.

“Die,” you grumbled, burying your head into the pillow.

You could hear laughter from the door, “Finally becoming one of us,” Ivar, you think, laughed.

“Or worse. she’s becoming like you,” Sigurd’s teasing led to more cursing, some thuds, and Ubbe running to split up some kind of fight as you sat up in bed. This was going to be a long day.

“Why do I need to learn this?” you whined as Hvitserk helped you load an arrow onto your bow.

“Well if you like to eat you need to learn how to shoot,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd leant against a tree to watch your struggles. Ivar was sat just a few feet away on a cut down tree.

all boys were noticeably behind you as they watched the arrow sink into a tree three feet from your target. Hvitserk helped you load another arrow before making the mistake of joking to a very hungover, very fed-up woman. “How are you getting worse?”

You huffed, spinning around still holding the bow making all the boys duck. Even Hvitserk jumped away, “Watch where you point that thing!” Sigurd said, hands covering his face.

“Scared of some little girl?” Ivar laughed. Though it stopped when you turned the arrow at him. He held his hands in the air in mock defence, “I thought we were friends,”

“Don’t test me,” you grumbled, turning back to the target. “This was so much easier on the Wii,”

“What’s a Wii?” you sighed as the four asked in unison. Instead of answering you ignored them, rolling your shoulders back before taking aim again. Breathe in, breathe out, and release.

Thud. The arrow hit the edge of the target. “You’ll get there- “Ubbe tried to speak but you cut him off.

“I did it!” you almost screamed, jumping up and down. “Ha take that!” you said, thrusting the bow up like you’d won the Olympics making the boys laugh.

“Please if we were hunting not only would you scare away the deer, but you only would’ve shot his ankle,” Hvitserk said, as he pulled out another arrow for you to use.

You rolled your eyes as you loaded it yourself this time, all be it with a slight struggle without his wins, “Don’t you guys ever celebrate the small victories?”

“What’s the point of that?” Ubbe asked with all seriousness.

“For motivation? To be happy?” you said, like it was the most obvious thing as you lined up your shot. Breathe in and release. “See!” you said, the arrow now slightly closer to the centre than before, “Positive thinking gets you places,”

“Yeah, like the bottom of a pile of dead bodies,” Ivar chortled.

You turned around with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Would you like to be one of them?”

A small smirk formed on his face as the other boys laughed. You felt Hvitserk place his arm over your shoulder, “Oh you’ll fit in nicely soon enough,”

By the end of archery practise you were now able to hit the target each time. Not the centre but still. Progress was there. Then it was there turn to do their real practising. Watching Ivar hit the bullseye with his axe each time as he glared at Sigurd made you thankful guns weren’t invented here. You almost told them about them but even if they were nice to you, you didn’t need to give them anymore ideas.

By the time you got back to Kattegat the sun was beginning to set and dinner was nearly ready. Bjorn joined you once again. Apparently, this was unusual for the Ironborn however it was Hvitserk who told you this and you quickly learned he was a massive gossip. Not that you were complaining. However thankfully for you Ragnar and Aslaug were not joining you. Its not that you didn’t like them, but Ragnar asked you a million question while she had a way of staring through your sole.

Somehow you ended up between him and Ivar and any time someone told a story your legend you didn’t understand he was quick to whisper in your ear. “What lies are you telling her brother?” Bjorn, who was sat across from you, asked as he was telling a story of his latest travels.

“That you truly are as tough as you look,” Hvitserk smirked. Despite not having Ivar’s rage or Sigurd’s instigation, Hvitserk was clearly able to hold his own.

Bjorn hummed disapprovingly before turning back to you, “How unfortunate you travel all this way to be stuck with these fools,” he said, glancing round the table, “Not a real man among them,”

“Maybe,” you said, deciding if you were going to be surrounded by argumentative Vikings you may as well try fit in, “Or maybe we have a different definition of a real man,”

“And what would your definition be?” he asked, putting his elbows on the table, and leaning in closer.

His eyes were locked on yours, so you decided instead to let yours look him up and down before sitting back, “Why? Do you need some lessons on how to be one?”

The younger Ragnorsson’s sniggered while Ubbe watched the whole scene carefully. Your eyes stayed locked on Bjorn’s until he sat back in his chair with a smile, “There’s hope for you yet, little one,” he said before dropping the smile, “Though I don’t recommend questioning me again,” The sight made your blood run cold but you did your best to smile, bringing a cup of wine to your lips as the meal soon continued.

Somehow you managed to escape from the brothers while they were distracted by finding a new crate of ale. While drinking wasn’t exactly restricted in university, they drank like it was a sport and there was no way you could keep up.

Even though you now wore a Vikings dress and apron there was some things from home you couldn’t let go of; modern underwear and sleeping in a comfy t-shirt. It was the one you had arrived in though admittedly you were going to have to wash it and your other clothes soon. The issue was that meant asking one of the brothers where or how to wash it and you had no desire for them to see these items. Well not yet at least.

When you got back to your room you slipped out the starched dress and into the soft cotton shirt and got under your furs about to sleep. Before you could however the door opened. “Ivar?”

“My brothers bore me,” he sighed as he crawled over to your bed. You pulled the furs slightly closer, realising you only had the t-shirt on as your cheeks flushed. Ivar took no notice as he pulled himself up to sit beside you, “You were the only interesting one there,”

“A little flattery goes a long way,” you said but he quirked his head at that, “It’s an expression where I’m from,”

“Is flattery not a good thing?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Depends. My professor told me flattery and insults raise the same question; what do you want? Though I think he stole that from someone,”

“Well, all I want is your company,” he answered and at rare moments when you were alone Ivar didn’t look blood thirsty and terrifying. In fact, he seemed kind of gentle as he let a small smile escape. You couldn’t help letting out a light laugh, “Though I don’t understand how someone can steal words,”

Again, you shrugged, “I guess our people just value different things,” you said as a silence washed over you both.

After a few moments Ivar broke it, “I don’t think so. I think, deep down, all we all want is to be safe,” he said it quietly, as if he was worried someone may eaves drop.

It broke your heart a little though, “I suppose but I would’ve said happy,”

“Happy is a dangerous emotion,” he said, staring off into the distance, “everyone craves it, so they chase it, but they assume there is only so much of it to go around so they steal it. I do not need to be happy. Just content,”

You weren’t sure why you grabbed his hand, but you gave it a soft squeeze. His cheeks tinged pink, but you pretended not to notice, “I think content is a different kind of happy. Maybe if we were all so content with it, we could all be happy,”

“Maybe,”

“It’s a dangerous word,” you said.

Ivar snorted, “How can a word be dangerous?”

“How can happiness be?” you shot back with a small smile.

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kaivenom · 1 year ago

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How the Vikings men would bath with you

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

It takes a lot to him to trust you enough to see him naked.

Due to his body, he is very self concious so previously to entering the bath, you need to be sure he will let you in.

It is sure to say this is one of his most vulnerable moments, always expecting you to run away or something.

You position yourself behind him and tun your fingers up and down his back.

Giving him massages and hugging him, trying to reasure him that you are not afraid.

Once he gets used to this time of intimacy, having baths together starts to be a more usual activity.

Ubbe Ragnarson

He got to you side and started rubbing your legs and chest with slow almost sensual motions.

Never breaking eye contact from you, even when is hand dissapeared underwater.

With a nod you invited him to join you and what started with his attempt to seduce you is now a relaxing tradition.

Your back against his chest, connecting fingers and talking about nothing and everything.

Feeling his heartbeat against you is beautiful and calming, he also feels safe while doing this with you.

Dark ambience, small candles iluminating the room.

Hvitserk Ragnarson

The first time he entered by accident and you give him the option to join, obviously he didn't refuse.

Then started to be more often, he judt likes to have you in front of him.

After his travels to Algeciras and the Mediterranean sea, he discovers the roman baths, aromatized soaps, etc.

He is like a child, sometimes splashing you while laughing.

But dont get It wrong, he always treats you like a princess.

Now, when you raid together, he always wanders around the town, trying to know if there is some roman baths or saunas.

Sigurd Ragnarson

I somehow think that he doesn't like to bath so the only way for him to get in water is with you.

He tries to stay as much as posible in the water while you wash his blonde hair but he just makes sarcastic comments, makes weird faces and that.

He tries to splash you like a revenge and you end up having a water bottle.

The only place he likes to be in water is on the lake, but ussually is to cold to be there so... big no.

Not even mentioning that in some particular ocasion he threw you there, obviously you pushed him after.

It's the most fun and risky one to bath with.

Bjorn Ironside

He obviously starts bathing a couple of minutes before you do, that's why you always tell him when you are going to do It.

He has this hope that bathing and spending this time with you will make you reward him.

Bathing in such a small place with such a man, you feel a little overwhelmed.

He doesn't tent to do anything but always wants you to rub and wash him, he finds it relaxing

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avalilsbfss · 7 months ago

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Ivar the boneless - be quiet 18+ (request)

Anonymous: ”Hello! I’ve read your Ivar short and I was wondering if you could do an ivar smut? I don’t really have any ideas for it but i was thinking a puplic thing… if your up for it.

Because ivar is so abjfcbtscb 😫🤭”

Ivar x partner!reader

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, public fingering. No orgasm

Description: you started flirting with Hvitserk to make ivar jealous and it wasn’t well received.

P.s: Idk what point it the series this is set so just go with it.

Ivar watched as you laughed at Hvitserks terrible joke. Why the hell were you laughing?.

You and ivar had an argument last night and honesty neither of you could remember what it was about.

You were obviously flirting with Hvitserk and you were doing it to annoy ivar. Ivar was sitting next to you while Hvitserk sat across from you both the table In between you two

You weren’t really acknowledging Ivar until you felt his large hand on your thigh.

You snapped your head over to him and he just looked away, you shook your head and just continued to talk with Hvitserk, trying to ignore his touch.

Ivars fingers worked slowly to scrunch your dress up to your thigh, causing your breath to hitch.

Your dress was scrunched up to your thigh and Ivar had was running along the bare skin. Merely brushing over the mound behind your undergarments causing you squeeze your legs together tightly.

Hvitserk gave you a look and you cleared your throat and apologised, and as you did Ivar gently circled your clit over the fabric of you panties.

You could only feel the light teasing pressure against your clit, causing you to desperately move your hips to feel more. And ivar smirked to himself

Ivar pushed your panties to the side and slipped a thick finger through your slick, you let out a shaky sigh and tried to save face

He gently circled your clit and rolled it between his two middle fingers causing you to press your lips tightly together to. You almost chocked on your drink when he slipped a finger inside you and curled it in a come hither motion. Ivar smirked and started to thrust his finger in and out and you gripped your cup tightly as Hvitserk refilled it.

Ivar slipped in another finger and moved his hand faster, you leaned over to ivar and whispered “ivar stop it” you whispered desperately.

Ivar smirked and shrugged and simply slipped out his fingers leaving you empty.

Hii! Feel free to give me suggestions i write for, Peaky Blinders, HOTD, GoT and Vikings trust me I’m very excited for new suggestions all are welcome <3 (all so check out my master list if you wanna)

Masterlist

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imtryingbuck · 3 months ago

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Forever thankful

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Ubbe Ragnarsson x plus size fem!Reader / Hvitserk Ragnarsson x plus size fem!Reader

Summary: Ubbe falls in love with his brothers wife.

Word count: 5,818

Warnings: fluff. angst. cheating. fat shaming. assault on reader (not detailed). mentions of sex. slight mention of rape but it doesn’t happen! smut(?). wanting to die (but not suicide / I honestly don’t know how to word it I’m sorry.)

Masterlist

Hvitserk was a fool.

Hvitserk was truly the biggest fool Ubbe had ever known.

He had a beautiful wife. A beautiful, kind, loving, sweet wife, sitting at home all alone whilst he was sat in the great hall with a woman sitting on his lap, one hand disappearing under her skirts as the other one cupped her face whilst his tongue was practically down her throat.

Ubbe was having to bite his tongue to keep himself quiet as Margrethe sat tense beside him, her normally bright blue eyes turned darker when the woman sat upon Hvitserks lap began moaning softly, Ubbe knew exactly why his wife was tense, she was jealous. Jealous of the woman who was sitting on her married brother in laws lap, jealous of the woman that would be warming her married brother in laws bed that night and not her.

He knew that his wife warmed more than just his brothers bed, of course he did, he was there most times, but ever since Hvisterk married the woman who now sat in their small cottage all alone - those moments were now rare. Not knowing that his wife and brother were now meeting up in secret. In all truth, he thought that his brother wouldn’t be seeking other skirts to chase, not when he had such a beautiful wife awaiting him at home every night.

The woman’s unabashed loud moans had Ubbe slamming down his knife and fork on the table. “Do you really have to do that here whilst we are trying to eat?”

“What’s your problem?” Hvisterk asked amused as he finally pulled himself away from the woman’s neck where he was decorating it in marks.

Choosing to ignore his brother he turned to the woman. “You do know he is married, right?”

“So?” She giggled in a breathless moan. “I don’t see her here, do you?”

Without saying another word to anyone he stood up and walked out of the hall. His brothers wife, so sweet and caring didn’t deserve a husband like the one she was given, Ubbe thought as he walked away from his brothers and wife, ignoring their calls for him to come back.

The first time he saw the woman who was going to marry his brother was nearly two years prior, her father was an Earl from the neighbouring village who had fought alongside Ragnar in every battle his father had. Ubbe stood by his nervous brother laughing lightly at Sigurds and Ivars taunts as the longboat came to a halt next to the docks, the young woman was accompanied only by her older brother as her father had died three years earlier, the first thing he had noticed was that her body was bigger than the women in Kattegat - filling out the pretty dress better than anyone else who would have worn it. As she got closer he couldn’t remove his eyes away from her face, it truly was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her wide, bright eyes were kept on the queen as introductions were made. His feet wanted to step forward when Aslaug said. “This is my son, the one you’ll marry.” But unfortunately his name wasn’t called, no, no it was Hvisterk, the one that had scratch marks on his back given to him by the farmers wife, knowing that fact had acid burning in his throat.

That night after everyone had gone to bed, the four brothers gathered around the hearth with cups of mead. “I can’t marry her.”

“Why?” Sigurd questioned.

“She’s fat!” His favourite out of his brothers cried. “I can’t have a fat wife!”

“She’s pretty.” Ivar spoke quietly from his spot next to Ubbe. “And she has wide hips, great for bearing children.”

Hvisterk laughed, a cold and cruel laugh. “I will not be giving her my seed! I don’t want a fat pig like her having my children.”

Sigurd looked towards the hallway with a sad smile on his lips as Ubbe tried to make his brother see sense. “You’ll need to have a child or two with her, you’ll grow to love her Hvit.”

“No I don’t and I won’t. I’d rather have bastards than give that fat woman my seed.”

Even Ivar, the one that was the heartless out of them sighed in disappointment. “She seems nice.”

“You marry her then!” Hvitserk snapped.

“I would if I could.” The youngest shrugged. “But unfortunately for her she’s been promised to you.”

“Why unfortunately? She should be lucky.”

Ubbe blanked out the rest of the conversation turned argument between his brothers, gulping down the rest of his drink he stood up and bid his goodbyes, only slowing down when Sigurd called out his name. “She heard.”

“What?”

“Lady Y/n, she heard what our idiot brother was saying about her.”

“How-”

“I saw her Ubbe, she looked like she was going to cry. I mean I would too if I was her.”

“Hopefully it’s just the mead talking. Goodnight brother.”

In the three weeks that Lady Y/n and her brother was in Kattegat Hvitserk spent hardly any time with her, Ubbe watched as the brightness of her eyes dim with each day. On her wedding day she hardly smiled and when she did he could tell it was forced, that night he watched as his brother drank more and more then clumsily dragged his new wife towards his bedroom.

Margrethe giggled as she told him that Hvitserk had told her that he called his wife by the former thralls name as he emptied his seed inside her.

She wouldn’t have been giggling as if she had heard the funniest joke if she had known that her own husband was thinking of his brother’s new wife whilst he was inside of her.

He knew it was wrong, he was lucky to have married a woman he loved unlike his brother, he had always thought that Margrethe was beautiful from the moment he laid eyes on her - but Y/n, Y/n’s beauty would have made Freyja herself jealous. Every time he saw her give a genuine smile he wanted more, most preferably aimed at him. Her eyes would light up each time the children of Kattegat would come and speak to her, shyly handing her a flower they had plucked themselves from near the woods or gifting her a nice smooth pebble they had found - it always warmed his heart, unlike his wife’s attitude towards the innocent little ones, always turning her nose up at them and dismissing them as if they were nothing. He wanted nothing more than to be able to call Y/n his wife, to be able to feel her smooth skin under his rough hands - the thought of being able to feel her curves and plumb skin always had his length swell. And most importantly he wanted nothing more to do the very thing that Hvitserk was denying himself of - starting a family.

“Ah! P-Prince Ubbe.” Hearing her startled voice had him snapping out of his memories, shaking his head in confusion he didn’t realise that his feet had led him to his brother and sister in laws cottage. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Blue, normally bright but now dark due to the night sky, eyes noticed the red and purple stains on her apron, a small smile appeared on his lips knowing that she was probably making her infamous cake that he and Ivar loved so much. In her arms held several pieces of chopped wood. “What are you doing?”

“Dropping these off to the neighbour, her husband has died recently and she’s been left with three children, one being a newborn,” lifting the logs higher. “and I chopped way to many this morning so I’m giving them to her.”

Always thoughtful, always generous. He thought to himself. “Here, let me help you.”

“Thank you.” Handing over the logs carefully she turned and picked up a basket. “I have filled it with some food and some clothes I had made for the babe.”

His heart ached in his chest. He knew for fact that she didn’t make those clothes for her neighbours newborn babe, but for her own. Despite hearing Hvitserk’s words that night she thought that maybe the gods would have allowed the seed he had planted in her womb to take place after their wedding night even when he was rough as he took her maidenhood, fucking her as if she meant nothing to him, spilling his seed with another woman’s name falling from his lips - but it never did, but that didn’t stop her from making them, she had hoped that the words she heard from her soon to be husband would have just been that, words, that maybe he would have grown to love her and that they could be happy. Now over a year into their marriage she was only touched once by her husband, she gave up that hope, that dream of having her own children, the basket beside the fireplace that began filling up with baby clothes was left abandoned, just as she was.

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine.” She smiled softly up at him. Guiding him towards the neighbour, Ubbe couldn’t force his wandering eyes away from the sway of her hips, smiling warmly at the neighbour as she profusely thanked Y/n for everything. “Would you like come in?”

He hadn’t even realised that they were back at her cottage. “Yes please.” The warmth of her home she shared with his brother was so different from his own home, how? he couldn’t really explain, maybe it was because she did everything in the home, she no longer had any thralls freeing them after she walked in on Hvitserk having sex with one of them in their marital bed. Or maybe it was the way her home was always so inviting and cosy or maybe it was just because it was her home. But what ever the reason was, he knew that he was happier being in her home than he was at his own cottage that he shared with his wife.

“Would you like something to eat?”

Despite him already having something to eat, his stomach growled, he didn’t even get to finish his meal in the hall. Nodding with a soft smile on his face he looked up at her from the seat he was occupying at the table. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” Gently placing the plate in front of him, she grabbed her own and sat down across from him. “It would have gone to waste anyway.”

“You did this for him?”

“Of course, he is my husband.” Dropping her knife and fork she stood up and rushed over to the counter and grabbed the jug full of mead and a cup. “I forgot to offer this for you, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Now sit and eat, I can fill my own cup.” Pouring his drink his eyebrows pulled together when he noticed that she didn’t have a cup too. “Do you not want a drink?”

“Oh no, thank you though.”

As they ate in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from inside the cottage was the crackling from the fireplace and Ubbe sighing with each bite in satisfaction at the taste of her cooking. “That was delicious Y/n.”

Her cheeks turned red at his compliment. “Thank you.” Standing up once more, she took his plate and hers away from the table.

“You haven’t finish your food?”

“It is fine, I’m not hungry anymore.” He nodded though he was skeptical. “He isn’t coming back tonight, is he?”

Gulping down the rest of his drink, he tried to think of something to say. “I-I’m not sure.”

“He probably won’t.” She shrugged as she washed the plates. “He only comes back when he needs clean clothes, leaving me with his dirty ones that I have to clean and sow.”

There was no malice in her voice as she spoke, to him it sounded as she had just given up. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about prince Ubbe.”

“He is my brother, I have to apologise for his behaviour and actions towards you and your marriage.”

“He’s not bad.” She sighed as he pulled a face. “He doesn’t hit me, he doesn’t force me to lay with him, he gives me enough coin for each month, so no, he isn’t a bad husband.”

“Just because he doesn’t hit you or rape you doesn’t make him a good husband, he’s left you alone whilst he chases after other women.”

“Your wife being one of them.” She says softly. “He is happy, that’s all that matters.”

It was his turn to sigh, he couldn’t argue with her, but he truly thought that after his brother married that the agreement of sharing Margrethe would have come to an end. “And what of your happiness?”

“It does not matter.”

“Yes it does.”

“I am happy.” It was a lie, she knew that and so did he. “I would like you to leave now please, I’m tired.” Another lie but she didn’t want to keep having this conversation.

“Very well, goodnight princess.”

Three months later Ubbe spent most of his time with Y/n, helping her with everything ranging from: chopping wood, hunting, cooking, cleaning and she had even taught him how to correctly sow. He truly enjoyed every second he spent with her - even when she did laugh at him when he somehow managed to trip over the broom he was using to sweep up.

He loved just sitting in front of the fireplace with her and talk about everything and anything, he learned so much about her - things that he doubted his brother even knew. His muscles would finally relax whenever he was with her, she became a home to him, he was able to be himself and talk about his dreams of being a simple farmer - he remembered the time he told Margrethe about his dream, she just laughed at him, but not Y/n, no she smiled softly at him and told him that he would be an amazing farmer with so many cute animals.

It was easy being with Y/n, it was easy for him to fall in love with her.

The brothers had decided to go into the woods where they could practice, Ubbe listened as Ivar and Sigurd argued about whose arrow had hit the target in the eye - both claiming it was their own, when only one was correct and of course it was Ivars but he kept quiet. His bright blue eyes searched for Hvitserk, rolling them when he found him, he was kissing a woman who Ubbe had never seen before.

The youngest two of them pulled a face when Hvitserk came jogging up to them. “I’m going to the cabin.” Without waiting for a response he jogged back over to the woman and took her by the hand and lead them away towards where the cabin sat.

“I’m going to go.” Ubbe said interrupting his two brothers who carried on their argument. “And Sigurd it was Ivars.”

The blond groaned whilst the youngest laughed. “Are you going to see Y/n?”

“What?” Ivar just smirked at him. “How do you know?”

“I know everything brother.” Tapping the side of his head. “And plus you brought me a slice of cake, knowing I only like the ones that Y/n makes.”

“Don’t say anything.” Ubbe pointed to his brothers. “It’s nothing, okay? I’m just spending time with her because she’s lonely.”

“And because you love her.” Sigurd laughed whilst Ivar nodded in agreement. “I think this will be the only time that me and the cripple will ever agree on anything, but we promise not to say anything.”

“Yes, snakey here is right. You deserve to be happy Ubbe.”

Ubbe couldn’t believe what he was hearing honestly, all four of them would argue and even fight with each other but Ivar and Sigurd, never ever got on, never really had anything nice to say about the other. Y/n wasn’t going to believe him when he told her. “You won’t tell Hvitserk?”

“Why would we tell him? He’s been a terrible husband to her.”

“Right. Okay, well I’m going to go, please don’t kill each other whilst I’m gone.”

Plucking a flower from the ground he held it carefully in his hand as he made his way towards the cottage, with a smile on his face he knocked twice on the wooden door. His eyebrows pulled together with worry and confusion as she had yet to answer, he only relaxed when he heard her sweet voice. “Hi-” he cut himself off as her face came into view. Her pretty face was bruised. A cut on her cheek and across her chin. Her left eye slightly swollen. And when he looked down his fists clenched even tighter, a dark bruise was covering her neck. “Who did this?”

“I-it doesn’t matter.” Her voice hoarse and not soft like it always is.

“Who, Y/n?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Gently pushing her back so he could step inside, he kicked the door shut behind him. From the corner of his eye he caught the sight of her table on its side and several chairs had been destroyed, her things had been thrown around the room - his heart clenched when he saw the small jewellery box that her father had made for her a few months before he passed away, on the floor and broken. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Hvitserk?”

“No! No it wasn’t him.” Sitting down on the only chair that hadn’t been broken, she sighed. “A man, he knocked on the door last night and I thought it was you, bu-but it wasn’t. Anyway he was angry because the woman he was supposed to marry was caught in the barn with Hvitserk, he said he doesn’t want to marry the prince’s whore.”

“What is his name?”

“I don’t know and that’s the truth.”

“What about her name?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He has loads of women so it could be anyone.”

It was his brother’s fault. It was all Hvitserk’s fault. If he had just been faithful to his wife then a man wouldn’t have taken his anger out on sweet, kind, beautiful Y/n. She didn’t deserve it, she didn’t deserve a husband as cowardly as the one she got, she didn’t deserve to have her delicate skin damaged by a man who was angry, she didn’t deserve this man’s anger since it was aimed at the wrong person. She deserved better, a better life, a better husband. She deserved nothing but love, respect, happiness and devotion.

Ubbe wanted nothing more than to run up to the cabin where Hvitserk was currently fucking a woman that wasn’t his wife and beat some sense into him, then he would find the man who dared to put his dirty hands on his Y/n and make sure that this man didn’t have a seat at Odin’s table.

But then he looked down at her where she still sat on the chair, nervously twisting a bit of her dress in her hands. His brother and unknown man was going to have to wait for his anger. “Let me clean your wounds, okay?”

“You don’t-”

“I know.” Leaning down he pressed a kiss to her forehead and gathered everything he needed. Slowly and gently he cleaned the cuts on her cheek and chin, as he concentrated he could feel her eyes on him which caused his cheeks to tint red.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can but I’m here.” Putting down the broom he was using he gently pushed her to sit back down on the chair. “Just sit and relax.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled softly at her before continuing his work, gently scolding her every time she tried to help and he even refused her help with turning the table on all fours. When he was finished he looked around the cottage and hated how much emptier it now seemed without her trinkets and jars. “I promise I’ll get you some new chairs and some new jars, oh I saw a really nice one yesterday on the market - I’ll go and see if it’s still there tomorrow.”

Cutting his rambling off. “You don’t need to do that Ubbe.”

“I know-”

“I know you know but it is not your responsibility to take care of this.”

“You’re right, it’s Hvitserks but do you really think he would?”

“No.” She sighed softly. “No he wouldn’t but it isn’t his responsibility either, it’s mine.”

His thin eyebrows pulled together and downwards as his face scrunched up in disgust. “You really think that? You are his wife! This is his home, he should be here taking care of you and not-”

“With another woman?” She cut him off. “He does not care for me, Ubbe. The only reason why that man didn’t kill me last night was because I begged him, I begged him to kill me, I begged and begged and unfortunately he didn’t.”

Taking a step back from her as if she had burnt him, the blue in his eyes went brighter due to the tears that wanted to fall. “W-what? Why? Why would you beg such a thing?”

“So I can be free, so that Hvitserk will be free. With me gone he’d be able to marry someone he truly loves, someone worthy of his time and love.” Stepping closer to him she slowly raised her hand to cup his face. “All I have ever wanted was to be loved, to be respected, to be able to share my life with someone but that won’t happen in this life and I’ve accepted that.”

“And that’s your reason to want to die? To leave me?” One of his hands went to her waist as the other held her hand that was still resting on his face. “My brother is a fool, but so am I. I thought I married someone for love but I didn’t know what love was until I met you. You don’t need to accept being lonely or being unloved because I’m here, I’m here to be by your side, I’m here to love you until my time comes and even then I will still love you.”

Tears streamed down her face freely as he spoke, through blurred vision she searched his eyes for any indication of him being untruthful with his words when she didn’t find any she did something that shocked not only herself but the man in front of her. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Her cheeks went bright red with embarrassment because just like Hvitserk on their wedding day, Ubbe didn’t kiss her back. “I-I’m s-sorry.” She stuttered in a whisper, feeling like the biggest idiot ever she began to pull away from him, frowning slightly when she realised that he wasn’t letting her go. Before she could say anything Ubbe smiled softly then he kissed her, it was slow at first which she was grateful for as this was the second time she had kissed someone but as it turned more heated she happily followed his lead.

He smiled to himself when he felt her hands beginning to tug on his clothes, he was more than happy to comply with her unspoken wishes and stood proudly before her naked as the day as he was born. Laying her down gently on the softest of furs in front of the lit fireplace, he couldn’t tear his lips away from hers as his hands roamed her frame - when he finally removed her dress off his eyes turned even darker with lust, with admiration, with love. Moving ever so slowly down her naked body he left a trail of wet kisses, repeating his actions when he thought he had left a spot untouched by his lips, licking his lips he locked eyes with hers as he began devouring her just like the meaning of his name, he was truly a wolf as her limbs became weak and floppy. He couldn’t wait no longer, he needed to feel her around him, kissing her passionately, he smiled softly at her, never have I ever seen more of a beautiful sight he thought to himself as he began pushing his hardness into her, both sighing in content at the feeling of them joining as one.

Keeping himself buried deep inside her as they came down from their peaks praises of how well she did and how amazing she is fell from his lips in between kissing every inch of her face. A shocked gasp came from her when he picked her body up from off the ground he promised her that she was fine, carrying her in his arms he walked the both of them into her bedroom where he placed her gently on the bed that she shared with his brother. Her scent filled his senses as he slid into the comfy bed, no traces of his brother was present as his wrapped his arms around her, he fell asleep not long after she did, falling asleep before whispering I love you into her braided hair, falling asleep happily with her wrapped up in his strong arms.

For a whole two weeks none of Ubbes family saw him and Margrethe hadn’t even realised as she was too busy with Hvitserk. And what Ubbe didn’t know was that Ivar and Sigurd were actually covering for him whenever Aslaug questioned his whereabouts.

But unfortunately the boys were running out of excuses, so they made their way towards Y/n’s cottage. “Knock then.”

“No you do it.”

“I’m a cripple!”

“And that means that you can’t knock on a door?”

“Yes.”

“It’s your legs that don’t work, not your arms.” Sigurd huffed as his brother smiled up at him sarcastically. “Fine.”

Neither one of them realising that Ubbe and Y/n were struggling to hold back their laughter behind the door at hearing the brothers little argument. Opening the door just as Sigurd was about to knock Ubbe cocked his head to the side. “What can we do for you two?”

“Mother keeps asking for you and we are now running out of excuses.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, we haven’t told anyone where you have been really.”

“Thanks.” Facing Y/n he cupped her face gently. “Are you ready?”

In all the time Sigurd and Ivar had known Y/n they had never seen her have a genuine smile on her face, but they see it as she looks up at their older brother. “I’m ready.”

Ivar looked up at Sigurd giving him a questioning look, the blond shrugged and asked. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to ask mother to grant me and Y/n a divorce from Margrethe and Hvitserk.” Tucking in a piece of hair behind Y/n’s ear, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And then we will get married.”

Sigurd smiled. “I’m sure she will.”

“And I’m sure the thrall and the fool will be angry.” Ivar smiled.

All four of them made their way towards the great hall, Ubbes hand gently holding Y/n’s, squeezing softly when he felt her tense up as they got closer to the building. Aslaug was sat upon her throne, squinting slightly when she saw the two holding hands, a subtle grin on her lips. “Sons, Y/n.”

“Mother.” As Ubbe took a step forward towards his mother Hvitserk and Margrethe came around the corner, the prince with his arm around the former thralls waist, both giggling. “Queen Aslaug I’m here to ask you to grant me a divorce from my wife.”

That got the pair to stop giggling. Hvitserks arm slipping slowly from Margrethe’s waist.

“What?” The blonde woman stuttered.

Aslaug nodded, not letting Ubbe answer. “Divorce granted.”

“Thank you.”

“You can’t do this!” Margrethe shouted. “On what grounds? Y-you need a reason!”

“He is a prince, he doesn’t need a reason.” Aslaug responded. “I assume you wish for a divorce too, Y/n.”

She could feel Hvitserks green eyes burning the side of her face, she tried to ignore it as best as she could as she took a deep breath. “Yes please.”

“Divorce granted.”

“No! No she’s my wife!” Y/n flinched at his shouting causing Ubbe and Sigurd to stand protectively in front of her. “Mother you can’t do this, she’s my wife.”

Ubbe went to speak but Aslaug held her hand up to silence him, standing up she made her way down the steps and stood in front of her second son. “Your wife? I have seen the way you have treated her, I have heard the whispers about the countless of women who you have decided to spend your time with.” Cupping his face in her hands. “She should never have been your wife Hvitserk.”

“But-”

“No. No buts. You never deserved her.” Walking up to Ubbe and Y/n, she smiled warmly. “He does, and he will be a better husband to her than you ever was and they will have the life they have always wanted.” Her grey-blue eyes went to Y/n’s stomach, a warm smile on her lips. Aslaug knew, she knew because she had a dream, a dream of her oldest son and his wife living on a farm surrounded by animals that Y/n had named even against Ubbes advice not to, her daughter in law was heavily pregnant and her son couldn’t take his hands off of her. She had never seen her son so happy before. When Aslaug woke up she was confused because she didn’t know the woman in her dream, not until a few hours later when the ship carrying the woman Hvitserk was to marry pulled up to the docks.

“But she’s mine!” Her second son shouted.

“If she was truly yours then you would have looked after her better.” She remarked. “Ubbe, Y/n you both have my blessing to marry.”

“Thank you mother.”

A month later the two got married, Hvitserk refused to show up to the wedding whilst Margrethe was held back by the queens guards. Two days before the wedding Y/n found out that she was with child when she told Ubbe, he fell to his knees and pressed several kisses to her covered stomach, promises falling from his lips of how he was going to love the babe and protect them no matter what. Aslaug had a knowing smile on her face before they even had the chance to tell her.

Hvitserk was beyond angry when he found out that Y/n was pregnant, to him she had betrayed him, and he wanted justice. Showing up at the cottage he was given by his mother as a wedding gift he was shocked to find the place completely empty. “She’s not here.” He practically jumped out of his skin at hearing a voice behind him.

“Where is she?”

“With her husband.”

“I’m her husband.” Turning around he saw Ivar sitting upon an empty crate. “She’s my wife and yet I don’t see her anywhere, do you?”

“Ah but you’re not her husband anymore, are you? No, our big brother is.”

“She belongs to me!”

“Nope, not anymore she doesn’t.”

“Where are they?”

“Did you know that Ubbe killed the man who attacked Y/n?” Ivar asked instead. “You probably didn’t, me and Sigurd was there and I do have to say that Ubbe didn’t go easy on the guy.”

Frowning and shaking his head. “What are you talking about?”

“See you later.”

“Wait, where are you going? You didn’t tell me what happened.”

“I’m going?” Ivar laughed. “Did you not hear me?”

“Ivar stop playing games! What happened to Y/n?”

“When?”

“Don’t-”

“She was attacked.”

“What? When? Who did it?”

Ivar laughed again. “Don’t act like you actually care because you never did before. It happened when you were busy fucking another woman. It was done by a guy who caught you and his fiancé fucking in a barn.”

“I-I-”

“I-I-I don’t want to hear it and neither would Y/n and Ubbe.” Settling himself onto the ground Ivar looked up at his brother. “Whatever the reason you had when you came here just leave them alone Hvitserk. You had your chance and lost it because you couldn’t keep it in your trousers.”

Hvitserk went inside the cottage that Y/n had made a home for the two of them and the children he swore he would never give her, sitting down on the cold wooden flooring, he pulled his knees up to his chest and cried. The reality and realisation of what he once had and what he had lost had finally caught up to him.

“Ubbe!”

“Yes my love?”

“Lady Penelope has given birth!”

Walking over to where Y/n was resting against the fence, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. “Twelve piglets, not bad.”

“She did so well.”

A few days after Ubbe and Y/n was married, they moved to the farm house that had been abandoned for a couple of years, after several weeks of fixing up the house with the help of Sigurd and Ivar - it became a warm and welcoming home.

Hvitserk came to visit once, he apologised to Y/n for the way he treated her during their marriage and gave her and Ubbe his blessing for them to marry - which left Ubbe unable to control his laughter seen as though they were already married and he didn’t need his brothers so called blessing.

Aslaug watched from her spot on the bench with Sigurd sitting next to her and Ivar sitting on the floor as Ubbe kept his hand on Y/n’s back, from where she was sat she couldn’t hear what the two were saying but she could see genuine smiles and hear their laughter. Looking down at Aesir who was using Ivar as a climbing frame she smiled softly. “I think he likes you.”

“Of course he does, I’m his favourite.” Ivar chuckled. “Aren’t I Aesir?” The two year old just giggled and put his little hand into Ivars mouth.

“I’m going to be the next ones favourite.” Sigurd commented. “It shouldn’t be long now before the babe comes.” Aslaug sighed and blocked out the bickering between her two sons, and kept watching Ubbe and Y/n.

Ubbe placed his hands on his wife’s large bump, absolutely loving the feeling of their child move around, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Hvitserk was a fool who lost the best thing he would ever have, and for that Ubbe was forever thankful.

Tags: @cheesesandwichsanto

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milkb0nny · 6 months ago

Text

Ivar, your sanctuary

Pairing: Ivar x infertile!reader

Summary: You have been with this man for some time and you loved him. Yet you found out you were not as blessed as other women through a horrible incident. Though, you weren’t sure how to confront Ivar, not only with the pain you had to endure, but also that he would never have a son with you.

Note: I thought this scenario might be very intruiging, yet sensitive. Please do not read this when you feel uncomfortable or anxious about the topics in this fix. With that, take great care of yourself.

Content: established relationship, s/a, r@p3, trauma, mental breakdown, good ending but at what cost, infertility

Your feet trembled violently, the chill reaching through your bones. Your hands felt like ice, numb, dead, while your eyes, swollen with unshed tears, refused you sight. Another ungodly night, another night full of panic and unheard pain. It was deep into the night when you woke, the echoes of screams and cries from your dream fading into the silence of the room.

The only sound grounding you was the soft, even breathing of the man lying beside you, Ivar. Your beloved husband, your anchor, your protector. You loved him deeply, admired him endlessly, yet gazing at him now in his slumber only deepened the aching pain in your heart. His calm body reminded you of the peace that had been stolen from you. Tonight, once again, the night dragged you back to that day. A day not merely painful, but one that shattered the core of your dignity, left your sense of hope in ruins, and carved a wound so deep it bled into every moment of your existence.

That day - that man - that pain.

Unable to bear it, you slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb him. The idea of walking, of moving, perhaps would set you somewhat lose and relieve your mind of that horrible hands. Yet you didn’t get far. You were haunted. Tainted.

The coldness of the wooden floor beneath your bare feet sent a jolt of memory surging through you, dragging you back to that place. That room. The terror, the helplessness, the violation; it all came rushing in, pulling you under. You broke down, leaning against the wall as your breath quickened. For weeks now - perhaps longer - you had been tortured by flashes of the past, haunted by touches that made your skin crawl.

Ivar had noticed. Of course, he had. His sharp eyes missed nothing. He had seen the way you flinched from his touch when you thought he wasn’t looking. He asked, gently at first, then with a rising concern, what burden you carried. Each time, you avoided him, brushed off his questions, acted in strength you didn’t have.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. It wasn’t that you doubted his love. It was that you didn’t know how to put your experience into words. How could you explain something so unspeakably raw and vile? How could you bare the darkest, most broken parts of yourself to him, when you barely had the strength to face them yourself?

You slid to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees as the tears finally spilled over, hot and unrelenting. You didn’t sob loudly, as you didn’t want to wake him. Instead, you shook silently, trembling under grief and shame.

„My love, why are you crying so terribly?“

The usual stern voice was now so soft, gentle and endearing. Ivar laid behind you, looking at your shaking statue from behind, careful not to touch you. In this moment, he feared he’d crush you.

“I-Ivar, I...” you stammered, your voice cracking as you tried to force the words out. Slowly, you turned to face him. His blue eyes met yours, and the weight of his gaze crushed you.. He looked at you as though you were a fragile vase on the verge of shattering. “I... I don’t know how to say it.”

„You went to the seer today, didn’t you? Hvitserk saw you.“ Ivar’s hand reached for you, his movements slow and deliberate. He brushed the damp strands of hair away from your tear-streaked cheeks. A total mess like you shouldn’t feel pressured by his eyes, so he avoided yours - he knew better than to push you into a little corner. As it seemed, you were already trapped in it.

You nodded slightly, the memory of the Seer’s whispers replaying in your mind. You had wanted the truth, desperate for answers, but the truth you received had been devastating - but expected.

“What did he tell you?” Ivar’s voice broke through your thoughts, steady but cautious.

You turned back around, locking your eyes with the dark wall in front of you. For all the pain you carried, there was one thing you knew for certain - Ivar deserved the truth. For the first time since it, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility of telling him. If there was anyone in the world who could understand, who could carry your pain with you instead of for you, it was him.

Forcing yourself to speak, you began hesitantly, your trembling fingers fidgeting with the loose thread of your nightgown. “Do… you remember when you met with your brothers about a month ago? You wanted to move us into a bigger house, i-incase we might… become mother a-and father...” Your voice faltered, the knot in your chest tightening. “I-I went for a walk… and then it...“

You started crying uncrontrollably, your breath shortening with every intake of air, your nails curling into the cold skin of your arms. No, not again - those memories, these hands, that disgusting smell of alcohol.

...

Ivar didn’t move. He remained still, watching you with a pain in his eyes that mirrored your own. He knew. He had pieced it together, yet he waited. He wouldn’t force the words out of you, wouldn’t touch you without your permission, wouldn’t risk deepening your wounds. He just felt so broken seeing you at your wits end.

So, Ivar waited for you to continue speaking, even though it could take hours. He was still there, he was still lying in your shared bed - and he had no intention of leaving you there.

„He…,“ you muttered, and it wasn’t enough for Ivar to understand the full picture. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the horrible sides of men, he was aware of the power play they loved, he just didn’t think it would’ve happened to you. Ivar’s jaw clenched, his anger boiling up and the desire to kill that man flashed up, burned up, screamed up. It was for the man who had hurt you, for the gods who had allowed such a thing to happen.

“There’s more,” you said shakily, your voice trembling. “The Seer told me… He said... It was too much. I can’t... I can’t bear children, Ivar.”

There it was. The truth.

You and Ivar have tried months for children, effort and sweat, tears and frustration which you had wasted for the sole wish of kids. Ivar thought he was simply unable to be a father due to his own loss. His body wasn’t meant to reproduce, not another cripple should have been born - so he thought. But now, he had realized you were a woman who had been cursed, just like he was cursed.

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, terrified of what you might see. Would it be disappointment? Resentment? Pity? The silence stretched on, and your heart sank further. He was going to leave, wasn’t he?

“I-… I‘m not a … worthy woman. I cannot conceive and then - this… terrible day,” you choked out, tears blurring your vision. “I know how much you want a family… a little baby, how much you want-”

“Stop.”

His voice was firm but not harsh. You froze, your breath catching as he moved closer. Carefully, he reached for your face, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. He leaned over your head, his warm chest meeting the back of your head, and his hair softly draping over your forehead, as he looked at you.

“Don’t you dare think I would leave you,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You are my wife. I did not fall in love for children. I don’t care what that Seer said, and I don’t care what the gods think they’ve taken from us. You are still mine, and that is all I need.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t of fear. Ivar pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly but tenderly, as though shielding you from the pain that threatened to consume you.

“We’ll make our own fate,” he whispered into your hair, his voice fierce. “We don’t need anyone else - not the gods, not children, no one. As long as I have you, I have everything. My sweet little flower, I apologize I wasn’t there earlier.”

For the first time in weeks, the heavy weight on your chest began to lift. Ivar’s embrace was a shield, his words a balm to your wounds. The pain didn’t disappear, but in his arms, you found a piece of hope.

And in that moment, you realized something: Ivar wasn’t just your husband. He was your sanctuary. And in that moment, Ivar knew to heal your wounds together. You were his ethereal woman.

#vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings x reader #vikings #I'm crying this is too emotional #fanfic #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader

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mads-weasley · 6 months ago

Text

I'll Find You

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Shieldmaiden!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: enjoy!

Summary: Hvitserk is caught between both sides in the Battle for Kattegat. Torn between the woman he loves and his brother, he must make a choice.

Word Count: 3.2k

The Battle for Kattegat, the Battle of the Ragnarssons, raged across the misty field. The metallic smell of blood and harsh sounds of battle hung in the air: the clashing of swords and axes, battle cries, and screams of the wounded.

Who knew it would come to this?

Brother turning against brother, neighbor against neighbor. (Y/n) was caught in the middle, her heart torn between both sides. At one time, she'd promised to never leave his side, but when he jumped ship, he chose to leave her...to leave the people who loved him.

She remembered how his lip twitched as he stared back toward the shore. Toward Ivar. She'd reached for his arm, already anticipating his decision, but she was too late. Her fingers barely brushed his sleeve as he moved out of her reach. That was the day everything changed.

Even now, as she fought through the crowd of warriors, she unconsciously scanned the battlefield for his figure. A cry came from her right, and she turned to see another shieldmaiden with her axe on the way down. (Y/n) managed to lift her shield just in time, and the axe hit it with a loud crack, the impact sending painful shockwaves through her arm. With a grunt, she blocked another swipe and kicked the woman in the stomach before bringing her axe down into the shieldmaiden's neck with a bloody squelch.

(Y/n) readjusted her grip on the shield, wincing. It only took a moment for her to gather herself and sprint farther into the fray. She lost herself in the battle, and each slice of her axe sent a warm spray of blood across her face, the stray strands from her braid sticking to the substance.

Amid the battle, she saw him. He was a little ways ahead of her in front of the small river that separated Ivar and the rest of their forces from the fight. He fought like he always had, without restraint. (Y/n) had always called him her berserker because he truly was, but he never would admit it liked the nickname. There seemed to be two different men inside Hvitserk: the man on the battlefield and the man he was off. The latter, a highly observant and caring man she'd come to love.

She remembered the quiet moments they'd shared in England while fighting with the Great Heathen Army to avenge his father.

"Is England what you'd thought it would be?"

His lips tilted into a small lopsided smile, and he glanced over from where he sat beside her. "Not really. You?"

"I didn't know what to think," (y/n) sighed, looking back at the small river before them. "But it is beautiful."

The steady flow of the water filled the silence, and (y/n) felt peace for the first time in months. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, basking in the gentle sunlight that cascaded from the heavens. In all their time in England, the sun was not out often.

Feeling eyes on her, she glanced over at Hvitserk. Their gazes met for a moment before he quickly turned away, his cheeks reddening.

"I am glad you came with us, (y/n)," he admitted softly, his upper lip twitching out of habit.

(Y/n) slid closer and leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't imagine staying in Kattegat while you were here fighting. If something happened to you, I-"

She trailed off as her throat tightened. The mere thought of his death...it was more than she could handle. Tearing his gaze away from the river, he gently cupped her cheek and turned her face toward him.

"The gods are not done with me yet, my love."

Making her way to him, (y/n) watched Hvitserk fight with the ferocity she'd seen since he first picked up a sword. The berserker in him had taken over. He effortlessly blocked the slashes of swords and axes of his enemies like it was all one big dance, and he knew the choreography.

(Y/n)'s focus was shattered when something collided with her side, sending her sprawling to the ground. Coughing, she pushed herself to her feet and turned her attention to the warrior who shed his shield in favor of dually wielding two axes. He swung one of the axes toward her head, and (y/n) barely had time to duck, feeling the blade whiz past her ear. She rolled to her feet and sidestepped the other axe aimed for her ribs.

With a grunt, she twisted her body and lifted her shield just in time to block the incoming blow. Her axe followed, and the man howled as it caught him in the arm, blood splattering across his face.

He staggered back with a snarl, but (y/n) didn’t let up. She closed the distance between them in two quick strides, knocking his remaining axe from his hand with a powerful swing, then brought her blade down on his shoulder. The man grunted in pain and dropped to his knees, unable to fight back any longer.

As he fell, (Y/n) turned, scanning the battlefield once more. Her heart skipped.

Hvitserk.

Her breath hitched as she watched him take a blow from an axe handle, sending him reeling backward and falling hard to the ground. Without hesitation, she surged forward. The world seemed to slow as she fought her way through the sea of warriors. Every instinct screamed at her to get to him, and her mind finished the sentence she hadn't dared to in England.

"If something happened to you, I...I would gladly follow you to Valhalla."

When she reached him, her legs nearly gave way. There he was, sprawling out in the dirt, his eyes wide as he gasped for air.

"Hvitserk!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she dropped to her knees beside him. She quickly turned him over, her hands shaking as she tried to pull him into a sitting position.

He continued to wheeze as he struggled to catch his breath. Hvitserk's gaze was unfocused, blinking as if he couldn’t make sense of the blurry figure in front of him.

"Breathe, Serk! Breathe!" She yelled, rubbing his cheeks gently. "Breathe!"

Little did she know he couldn't hear her. His mind replayed the events of the past year: England, jumping ship, his last conversation with Ivar.

"What do you fear most, dear brother?" Ivar asked. "The loss of thought or memory?

"My thoughts and memories seem to be the same. Every time I think, I always remember the day I jumped out of Ubbe's ship."

When I left her...it went unsaid.

Ivar shrugged, making a pushing motion with his hands. "But you didn't jump. The gods pushed you."

"Don't take it away from me," Hvitserk snarked. "I wasn't pushed. I decided to do it."

"Ah. And I think you still regret it."

Hvitserk paused, his mind wandering. "My only regret is that I don't have any children...and"

"(Y/n)?" Ivar chuckled and tilted his head, his lips quirking into a smirk. "You regret leaving her."

He did. More than anything. But he had to live with the consequences of his actions. "Yes," he said quietly, his gaze falling to the dirt.

Ivar's smirk turned sinister. "She will be there today. Are you willing to do what it takes?"

Hvitserk glanced up at him, his lip twitching as he tried to contain his anger. "What?"

"You heard me," he shrugged. "She chose her side, and you chose yours, poor Hvitserk. Will she hesitate to kill you?"

He didn't know, but Hvitserk did know that he could never raise a hand against her. If she felt differently, he would gladly let her strike him down.

The memory dissipated suddenly, and he became aware of himself once again. Something was holding his face, but the blur of his vision made it impossible to see exactly who.

Then he heard her voice. It was muffled, but unmistakably hers.

After a moment, he finally got control of his breathing and pulled sweet oxygen into his burning lungs. He blinked as his vision and hearing returned to normal. Her eyes were the first thing he saw.

(Y/n) leaned over him, her brows creased in concern as her voice became clear. "You have to get up! You're okay! You're okay!"

She glanced behind her and quickly disappeared from his view. He heard the familiar sound of clashing swords and iron meeting flesh.

'What is happening?' he thought. Then it hit him. The battle.

Hvitserk rolled over and pushed himself up, still gasping, and grabbed his sword and shield. Staggering to his feet, he found (y/n) battling one of her own warriors, who looked confused as to why she was defending the traitorous Ragnarsson. She kicked him in the chest and sent him flying to the ground with a thud. He wouldn't be a bother for a little while. Finally turning, (y/n)'s eyes met Hvitserk's, and relief flooded her body.

He was okay.

She barely had time to catch her breath before a new enemy charged toward her, forcing her to raise her shield. She blocked the blow, gritting her teeth as the impact jarred her shoulder. Hvitserk, now steady on his feet, roared and stepped forward, deflecting the warrior’s second strike with his axe.

Their eyes met again, just for a moment. The battle roared on around them, but between the chaos, it felt like the world had paused. Blood smeared both their faces, and their chests heaved with exertion, yet they stood there, staring at each other.

She still loved him. He could see it in her eyes as they looked upon him with a familiar softness.

Before either of them could say a word, another figure rushed toward (y/n), axe raised high. Hvitserk’s instincts kicked in, and without thinking, he lunged forward and knocked the assailant aside with his shield, sending the man crashing into the mud. He didn’t pause to finish the enemy off, and his attention snapped back to (y/n).

As the battle raged on, Hvitserk fought with every ounce of his strength, cutting down those who came too close to them. He knew she didn’t need saving and was capable of handling herself, but he couldn’t stop the fear that gripped him every time she was too close to death’s reach...too close to Ivar's reach.

He shoved a warrior aside with his shield just as another came for (y/n). She didn’t see him coming, but Hvitserk did, and he swung his axe in a wide arc, catching the man’s shoulder and sending him crashing to the ground.

(Y/n) glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into something like a half-smile of thanks, but it didn’t last. She turned her attention back to the fight, but the brief moment made Hvitserk’s chest tighten. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed her to understand.

He was sorry, he still loved her, he still wanted a future with her...

Then, the horn sounded.

A sharp, unmistakable note. The retreat. Bjorn's forces were losing.

Ivar was winning.

But that wasn’t what shook Hvitserk to his core. It was the realization of what that meant for (y/n). If she didn’t leave now, Ivar would hunt her down the very moment the battle was over, just like he would do to Lagertha, Ubbe, Bjorn, and all the other leaders.

She wouldn’t survive.

His heart raced in his chest as he turned to her. She was scanning the battlefield, looking for her next warrior to fight, unaware of the danger closing in around her. He reached for her and grabbed her arm, his grip tightening as the horn's echo lingered in the air.

“You need to go,” he said, his voice raw.

(Y/n) shook her head in defiance. “I’m not leaving you, Hvitserk,” she replied, pulling her arm free of his grasp.

His lips pressed into a tight line, and he shook his head. “You have to. Ivar won’t let you live. He’ll come for you, for all of you.”

Hvitserk’s chest tightened. Blood smeared across her face, but the fire in her eyes was unmistakable. He knew her. He knew how stubborn and fierce she was. But he also knew what Ivar would do.

"Ivar will hunt you down. He'll kill you without hesitation. He won't care that you're..." his voice faltered. "He won't care what you mean to me."

Her eyes softened at the admission, and for a moment, the noise of the battlefield around them faded away. She reached for his cheek, brushing away the dirt and blood. “And you’ll stay with him?”

Hvitserk closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch. He wanted so badly to walk away with her, to take her far from this madness. But the pull of his brother, of the bond they shared...even with all the brokenness...he couldn't let it go.

“I don’t have a choice,” he admitted. “He’s my brother. If I don’t stand with him, I’ll lose more than I already have.”

(Y/n) swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of tears. “You’ll lose me, too,” she said gently.

His eyes opened, meeting hers with a conflicted gaze. “I lost you the day I jumped ship,” he murmured. “And it’s haunted me every moment since. But I have to see this through...I can’t leave him.”

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips as her hand fell from his face. She could see the pain etched into his features. “I know,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "You're being torn apart. I can see it in your eyes."

Her words broke something in him. He dropped his forehead to hers, his breath shuddering. “My love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes, savoring the closeness she'd longed for for months. She cupped his face again with her free hand, her thumb brushing against the roughness of his cheek. “I know,” she said softly. “I know you are.”

The horn sounded again, louder this time. A reminder that their moment was slipping away.

“Stay alive, my love,” he whispered, his lips brushing her skin lightly as the words left his mouth. “Stay alive. Please.”

(Y/n) couldn't speak as emotion washed over her.

“Now go,” he repeated, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Please.”

Her lips trembled, but she nodded. “Promise me that you’ll find your way back to me someday.”

Hvitserk's lip twitched...a ghost of the smile she remembered. “I’ll find you.”

With one last lingering look, (y/n) stepped back, her hand sliding from his face. “I’ll see you again,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

Hvitserk nodded, his eyes never leaving her. “Go,” he urged.

And then, with one last look, she turned and ran. Hvitserk watched until she disappeared into the chaos, and his heart broke a little more with every step she took away from him. Only then did he turn his focus back on the battle, gripping his axe tightly. With a loud roar, he charged the nearest enemy.

The berserker was back.

6 Months Later

The battle was over. Ivar had been defeated at last.

Hvitserk stood beside Bjorn and King Herald in the square as King Olaf stood before them, a blue flag in his hand.

"Here's to the new year of all our lives, Bjorn Ironside," he announced, handing the flag to the eldest Ragnarsson.

Hvitserk couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. It was finally over. After all the time he spent with Ivar, he could finally have peace, he finally got his home back. The people of Kattegat would no longer have a cruel dictator ruling over them.

A commotion rippled through the onlookers as figures emerged from the edges of the square, and Hvitserk’s heart skipped when he saw them...Ubbe, Torvi, and…her.

(Y/n).

For a moment, Hvitserk froze. His heart thudded against his chest, and he felt an overwhelming rush of relief. There she was...alive. After everything. His breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to do at first. So much had happened, and in the chaos of battle and their long separation, he hadn’t allowed himself to fully imagine this moment. He watched as she took a few tentative steps forward.

Then, as if something within him finally snapped, Hvitserk took a breath, his eyes locked onto hers, and he quickly walked toward her. When they were mere feet apart, Hvitserk’s resolve faltered. He didn’t wait any longer. His arms went around her instinctively, and he lifted her off her feet.

He felt the warmth of her against him, the familiar weight of her body, and everything else fell away. For that brief moment, there was nothing but her...alive, in his arms. His breath came in a rush, his chest tight with emotion as he held her there, not caring about the stares of those around him, not caring about anything but the overwhelming sense of relief that surged through him.

"I found you," Hvitserk whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking slightly as the words escaped him. It was the promise he'd made when they'd parted on the battlefield months before.

(Y/n)’s arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her touch was the thing he didn’t even realize he needed. After everything he had been through, the battles, the loss, the guilt, her touch was the only thing that made everything feel still...like he could breathe again.

Slowly, he lowered her back to the ground, his hands lingering on her arms, almost afraid to let go. But she wasn’t waiting for him to speak. Her warm hands came up to his face, her fingers brushing over his bloody jaw, and she smiled softly, the tears in her eyes making his heart beat impossibly faster.

"I think I'm the one that found you," she smirked, tearily gazing up at him.

A breathy laugh left his lips as he opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. What could he say? Everything felt too small to capture what he was feeling in this moment.

"I—" he started, his voice low and rough. But before he could finish, he closed the space between them. His lips brushed hers softly at first, gentle and lingering. The kiss was tentative as if they were both savoring the moment, tasting the reunion. Hvitserk’s fingers lightly cupped her face, gently tracing the curve of her jaw.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. "I love you," he murmured. "I'm never leaving you again."

(Y/n) smiled through the tears, her fingers brushing the blood on his face as she leaned in again, this time with more confidence.

"Good," she whispered against his lips.

She then fully pressed her lips to his, and this time, Hvitserk didn’t hesitate. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. There was a heat to it now, the emotions spilling out in the press of their lips.

When they broke apart again, Hvitserk’s breath was a little uneven. His eyes locked on hers as he gently touched her cheek. "Marry me."

She nodded immediately, tugging him down towards her with a wide smile. "Yes."

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