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mrsalwayswrite · 1 year ago

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped. He despised everything about hospitals.

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado.

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other?

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter.

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive.

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in.

He had promised her.

He fucking PROMISED!

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her.

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him.

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok.

And Lothbroks owned this city.

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now.

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer.

Too bad she had met her match today.

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth.

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking.

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish.

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away.

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for.

And there she was.

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater.

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her.

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running.

Running to him!

With tears running down her cheeks.

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally.

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob.

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again.

That he would always protect her.

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well.

That was all that mattered.

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass.

His father had other plans though.

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there. “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears.

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved.

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home.

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap.

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something.

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible.

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him.

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand.

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient.

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said.

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head.

“I've been better.” She replied.

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first.

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.

A goddamn car accident.

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different.

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten.

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable.

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away.

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move.

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up.

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?”

She nodded silently.

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form.

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side.

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away.

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex.

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths.

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father.

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly.

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet.

“Yes.” She rasped back.

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet?

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?”

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery.

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly.

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?”

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning.

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated.

She hummed.

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation.

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob.

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast.

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant.

Whatever you need. I'll be there.

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away.

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest.

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room.

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off.

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again.

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.”

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger.

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism.

Without a second thought, his feet moved.

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice.

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner.

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses.

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor.

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet.

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!”

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again.

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back.

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal.

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs.

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away.

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place.

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!”

Ivar froze. Again.

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard.

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted.

Until her.

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari.

His light. His life.

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in.

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty.

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.”

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik.

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands.

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could.

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?”

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?”

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough.

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week.

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright.

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.”

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?”

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.”

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her.

Like he promised he would.

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers.

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

#to call forth love #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings au #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ragnar #vikings ragnar #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk lothbrok #mz writes

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istorkyou · 2 years ago

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A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - violence between male and female, guns, angst, mentions of death.

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Masterlist

Chapter 13

The sun rises. It rises over the night of screaming, the violence, the tears and the blood and the bruises.

She has said all she can. Explained her old self as best she can to the man she loves. The man she spent a year betraying. The man who was nothing more than her mission in the beginning.

He’s worked out his disbelief, his anger, his despair and his sheer, unadulterated pain at her betrayal on her. She is battered and bloodied and still as sorry as she was when she learned her own truth.

Some part of him knows that she has allowed him to do this to her. That if she really wanted to she could have stopped him with one raised fist, an expertly directed kick, even one well placed word. But she has allowed him to take out everything she believes she deserves in her body. Between each blow telling him that she loves him and how sorry she is for the actions of the woman she was, the actions of a woman who didn’t know him yet. Who didn’t know his true nature and how he could be on the inside. The actions of a puppet used by the manipulative father she met in her deep grief.

He walks away from her, crumpled in a heap on the kitchen tiles, face swollen from his fists, cuts seeping her life blood.

She thinks about fleeing. She could. He’s been careful to not break any of her bones, she could walk to one of the cars now and leave the estate, make her way back to Lev. Her father. For what though? The only person on the whole planet she cares about is in a bathroom down the hall.

If she is to die here, so be it. She will die looking into the face of the man she betrayed.

The man she loves.

She hears his steps on the tiles and looks up to see him holding cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Up you get, Liet. I will clean you up,” he says as he holds his hands out to her. She takes his hand in her own and allows him to guide her to the squishy sofas she’s always loved.

He cleans her face, the cuts he has left and places an ice pack on her lip.

“My love. What am I going to do with you?” he asks softly as he wipes the blood from her elbows.

She swallows thickly as her heavy eyelids allow her eyes to meet his face for just a second. She knows he is surveying her face, looking at the damage he has rightly inflicted on her. She lets her tongue to slide along her bottom lip, gathering the fresh follow of crimson and loosening the dried flakes caked on already

“Kill me I would imagine.” She doesn’t let her eyes meet his now, she just takes the clean up kit from his hands and starts to wipe his bloodied knuckles clean. She cleans up the scratch marks in his forearms left behind from her nails and sets the kit on the coffee table. Only then does she allow herself to look at him, the look of regret, of sadness, of pure inevitability is over his feature.

“Don't feel guilty. It is no more than the old me deserves my love. I have told you everything I gave them. My love, please, please believe me. I fell in love with you before I lost my memory. I told them I wasn’t doing it any more, that I was in love with you and that’s why Lev did it.” She sees his face, shocked. “It was Lev, Ivar. He was behind the wheel. Before, he would ask me to meet him at the gym and I would give him anything I had gleaned. Until I admitted to myself I was in love with you. I gave them nothing of merit after, I promise. Just enough to keep them off my back, nothing that would hurt you or the family. Nothing of any substance for a long time before the accident. The day I told him I was finished with them was the day of my accident. He drove his car into me as I left the gym.”

“Lev? The man you were with? The man who trained you? The man at the gala whose hands were over you in front of everyone? The man who you fucked behind my back?”

“Ivar. Please.”

“Was it that man?” he screams at her.

“For fucks sake, if you want to boil it down to the bare goddamn bones then yes, it was that man! But if you would listen to me and accept my explanation it would be better!” She has ripped a healing cut on the side of her mouth open with her shouting. He dabs at it with a cotton ball and it stings.

“I did what I was trained to do. I had a normal life before my parents died and I found out about Oleg. He used me, manipulated me when I was deep in grief, used my vulnerability to gaslight me into doing what he wanted. Lev manipulated me as well. I’m not totally blame free, I knew what I was doing was wrong, obviously I did, but I justified it to myself that I was doing it out of love, that I was protecting my new family. It wasn’t until I met you, got to know you that I realised what real love looked like. I hate myself for what I did to you and your family. I deserve nothing less than what you will do to me, Ivar.”

“Have you fucked him since we got married? Have you fucked him since the accident? Don’t you fucking lie to me!” He grabs her shoulder, pushing his thumb hard on a wound.

She cries out in pain. “No! I promise. Not since way before the wedding. I made excuses.”

She watches as he covers his face, digging his fingers into his forehead, dragging them down his face leaving red lines on his skin. He looks at her, first with sadness on his face but it very quickly turns into rage, unadulterated anger at her again and he shifts towards her, his hand around her throat, his other hand raised behind his head in a fist, knuckles white. He hesitates when she makes a frightened squeak, seeing tears slip from her eyes again.

She scrunches her eyes shut, waiting for the impact, waiting for more split skin, the bones of her nose to be broken by his fists, but it doesn’t come, neither does oxygen into her body as he squeezes her throat tighter. Her eyes open to find his brimmed with tears and she knows this is the end. She is looking into the eyes of her murderer, the person who will send her to hell, even with this realisation she can’t help but try and smile at him, try to let him know that she understands his actions, that she doesn’t blame him.

She chokes out as best she can with his hands restricting her. “Sorry.. love you.” Her vision darkens as the lack of oxygen starts to shut her down, her heart starts to slow, a fraction but she can feel it. She knows, mercifully, she will be unconscious before death takes her. She feels the pressure in her eyeballs, and with that pressure comes a change in Ivar’s face, a fear, a realisation that removes his hands from her throat and allows sweet, sweet breath back into her windpipe, inflating her lungs, allowing oxygen to flow into her bloodstream, travelling to her heart, her brain, causing her to cough and suck in as many breaths as she can. She falls forward when his hands leave her, only to feel them on her back, rubbing circles gently.

“Baby, why did you have to do this?! I love you so much and now I’m without a choice! Ragnar will never allow you to…. It's your fault some of our best men, our allies, are dead. Why so many of our deals went south. Oh god, Liet! The family will make you suffer! I can’t stop that.” The next noise that leaves him is so devastating that she sobs. He screams up at the ceiling, anger, frustration, all the betrayal and the inevitability of his own impending grief spill out of him, travelling throughout the house like a poisonous gas, sent to kill them both.

She crawls to him, leaving bloody marks all over their beautiful sofa, until she is close enough to pull his head to her chest, feeling his tear soak into her skin, his pain wash over her, pulling her under, the guilt of her own betrayal rising bile in her throat.

“I was a different person, not me. Not your Liet, I can’t explain it any better than I have. I stopped betraying you as soon as I admitted to myself how I felt about you. When I felt safe away from them.They threatened to kill you in front of me then torture me to death if I didn’t do it. You are the only man I’ve ever loved, I didn’t know the meaning of it until I met you. I’ve loved you with my whole heart and soul, before and after the accident. I know I won’t survive this, Ivar. I know that. You need to understand that I have come to terms with it. When I found out who I was, what I did when I was Etta, my absolute betrayal of you, my soul died anyway. I’ve been empty ever since, only surviving because of all that you give me, like a disgusting parasite.”

No sooner do the words leave her mouth then he claps his hands over it. “Never, ever speak about yourself in such a manner to me. You are no parasite, you are the my soulmate, my one and only. Forever. I need to speak to my Father.”

He lessens the grip on her mouth. “I have a book that you can give him. It has every detail I ever have over to my father. Dates, people. It’s in Russian but I have translated it. The phone I used will support the dates. They are hidden behind the black, studded Louboutins, the ones with the red soles. Show him everything.”

He leaves her on the couch, she slumps back onto the pillows allowing a moment's rest as he searches for her evidence. When he comes back with it in his hand he stares at her for a long time. “Liet, I am going to show my father this. Do I need to secure you to something? Handcuff you? Get someone to watch you? I am asking you if you will run.”

She sighs deeply and starts to cry. “I won’t run. I’ve nowhere to run. You are all that matters in my life. If I’m not with you I might as well be dead anyway.”

He rushes to her, he throws himself in her, forcing his arms behind her shoulder and neck and pulls her tight to him. She can feel him breathing her in, trying to commit her smell to memory, in case this will be the last time. He untangles himself as his tears drop onto her skin like summer rainfall, running down her skin, leaving their mark on her. He doesn’t meet her eyes as he turns from her to leave. She makes no fuss.

As the front door slams she rises from the sofa, pushes the exterior lights on and walks to the pool. It’s cold out, but the vapour rising off the pool, being blown into the atmosphere by the cool northwest wind invites her. She strips naked and walks into the pool by the sloping steps. She sits, submerged to her shoulders, watching the illuminated water turn pink from the blood seeping from her wounds, but she cares not. The warm water envelops her, soothing her like the baths her mother ran for her as a child. She shakes the memory of the times her and Lev spent in the tub at her fathers estate, him cleaning wounds he inflicted on her during her training. This is different. The wounds she has now are deserved and she should absolutely feel the sting of chlorine in each and everyone one of them.

Her legs float in front and lies flat, treading water, looking up at the clear, star strewn sky. Like a black canopy dotted with holes.

Her last night on this earth.

Julietta feels no fear at all, only a deep anguish at forcing her husband's hand into killing her. Forcing her wonderful Ivar to use his nature against her.

She knows it will be the death of him eventually and it is this that makes her scream into the black of the night, her voice scaring the birds from the trees, reaching out into the universe, an agony heard by whatever dwells above and beyond.

“Liet,” Ivar’s voice interrupts her. She’s been in the pool for a long time without realising, her hands and feet are crinkly and the whole pool has a pink hue from her wounds. “Come out, love.” As she does as he says he wraps her in a towel and takes her to bed.

“Father has the information. No decision will be made tonight. We can rest easy.” He dries her off and tucks her into their bed before taking off his clothes and joining her. “I will clean you up properly tomorrow. I’ve got strong painkillers should you need them. Sleep now.”

She is too exhausted to ask any questions, she simply moves into his body, tucking herself into him and falls asleep when his arms pull her closer.

——————————————

He wakes in the morning to her hands over him, all perfect in his head before the memories start and the dead heart that only beats for her drops into his stomach. He remembers his father's words.

“She is your responsibility, Ivar. She is yours to deal with. I don’t need to tell you what needs to be done. You are shrewd enough to have known the very moment she disclosed herself to you. How you choose to do it is yours and yours alone.”

Ivar doesn’t even try to reason. There is no reasoning, he knows the only outcome. He says nothing about how grateful he is his father is allowing it to be him and not going full tilt, sending in mercenaries to deal with it. As Ivar turns to leave, Ragnar's voice stops him.

“She loves you, Ivar, but she cannot be trusted. Unlimited time is not available to you. Get it done. Keep me informed. No one will bother you in the estate. Got it?” Ivar nods tightly and heads back to her

He sleeps surprisingly well, her scent breaking through the swimming pool smell on her skin, soothing him. When he wakes fully she is over him, straddling his lap. He runs his hands over her perfect body, a body covered in old scars and wounds yet to mature into scars. She will always be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even battered and bruised. He watches tears fall from her eyes so he grabs at her, pulling her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her back, rubbing soothingly, until her sobs subside.

“We are going to go on holiday, you and I. We will go away for a week and allow ourselves to pretend none of this happened. Just be us again, carefree like in Sardinia. One week.”

She sits up and a smile graces her face. “One week.”

His face turns very stern all of sudden. “Julietta, do not use this opportunity to try and run, promise me baby? If you love me like you say you do…”

“I promise, Ivar. I promise.”

—————————————————

He manages to get them both off the estate and to the airfield where the private jet he chartered is waiting before he calls his father.

“Ivar.” Ragnar's voice is full of irritation.

“Father. One week. I will be home in one week. Alone.”

“Son, there will be severe consequences if this is your veiled attempt at setting her free. If she manages to get away I will not be pleased and I will send a force out to get her. Do not let her play you again.”

“Father. She loves me, this whole time hasn’t been her playing me. She loves me. I need this time with her. Once she is gone I will never be the same again. She won’t try to escape. One week with my wife then I will come home alone.”

Ragnar sighs audibly. “Okay. Ivar? When this is all done I will help you get through it. Okay son?”

——————————

Six days spent in paradise together, like honeymooners. They talk for hours, she tells him every detail of herself, how she met Oleg, Lev, her training. She tells him how she started to fall for him in Sardinia and why she had to turn cold, it was to save them both from Lev.

They both do a stellar job of ignoring the impending seventh day, but it comes quickly regardless.

She hears the safety of the gun click behind her, close to her head. She closes her eyes, and tucks some hair behind her ears.

Here it is then.

The end.

She had come to terms with it until two days ago and now she can’t allow it to happen. She needs to disarm him quickly, minimal fuss.

“Liet. Turn around.”

The click of the gun was a fraction to her right so she knows that’s the way to go. She catches him off guard as she leans forward quickly, spins on her right foot towards him landing her elbow into his ribs and grabbing his outstretched arm with the gun in it with her left hand. The gun goes off and a bullet ricochets into the rafters before she manages to jut the heel of her hand up onto his nose, taking advantage of his loss of balance she manages to get the gun. She stands, legs apart with the gun pointed at his head now.

Through the pain in his nose, through the tears caused by her punch he registers what he is seeing.

“I’m sorry, Ivar. I hate to see you in pain, sorry about your nose love.”

Ivar let’s out a huff of laughter. “It’s okay baby, I get it. You are so quick, I didn’t have any idea you were going to do that. Very impressive.”

“Thanks, baby! I thought I was rusty but it went quite smoothly.” She flashes him a smile of pride.

“So, are you going to kill me, Julietta?” He tilts his head to the side taking in her facial expression and he sees the tears form in her eyes.

“I could never do that to you, my love.”

“Ok. So what’s the plan? You are going to knock me out, escape? Even though you swore to me you wouldn’t?”

She nods her head slowly and regretful, “That’s the plan, baby. I’m going to have to break one of your legs so you can’t alert anyone and I’m so sorry about that love. I will make it clean so it heals quickly and neatly. I will knock you out first though.” She watches his hand go for his pocket. “No point, love. I took your phone earlier.” She says sadly. “Go and sit in that chair.” She points to one of the kitchen chairs and as he moves slowly, the gun in her hand still trained on him, she reaches into the sofa cushions and pulls out a length of rope.

He looks at it then back to her, as he sits heavily. He nods his head in realisation, “So you were always planning on betraying me again.”

“Oh, Ivar,” her eyes full with tears, “I wasn’t going to. I was going to disarm you and shoot myself to save you from having to do it, but something changed and now I need to escape. I hate it, I hate having to do this and hurt you again, but this is bigger than us now, I am doing this for both of us. One day you will understand.” Her eyes are pleading with him and he crosses his arms behind the chair letting her tie him to it. She weaves it through his legs and does it in a complicated knot that tightens the more it’s pulled on. “Try not to struggle too much, the rope will tighten if you do.” He tests it and she’s right. “Thanks for letting me do that with no fuss, love.”

She walks around in front of him and settles on her knees, arms resting across his legs. “I hate this. I’m so fucking angry at the way we met! I wish we were just two normal people who fell in love and can live happily ever after but that just isn’t in the cards for us. Neither of our fathers would allow me to live, no matter how much we both want it. It’s just so fucking unfair.

Ivar tips his head down to survey her face. It’s Liet, not Etta. She is being honest with him and he softens immediately. “It is unfair. We would have grown old together, love. But it is what it is. Come up here and give me a kiss.” She knows she’s done the knots well, there is no way he can get loose, so she does what he asks, she rises up and kisses him like it’s the last time.

Because it is the last time.

When they break apart they are both crying, she wipes his tears and then her own.

“So,” Ivar shakes his head a little, back to work mode, “the plan is you are going to knock me out, break my leg, escape somehow and then what? Where will you go?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he sees her raised eyebrows and a small chuckle leaves him. “Worth a try, hey love! You know we won’t stop until we find you, you know that baby?”

“I know. Ivar, do me a favour when you get home. Kill Lev for me. Make it hurt.” Waiting for his answer she strokes his face. “Make him hurt like he hurt me.”

“Done.”

“Okay. I don’t think there’s anything we can say. This is it I suppose. I love you. I will always love you. I will always be sorry and I will love you until my dying breath. I will find you in the next life, I promise you..” her voice cracks and she stands up in front of him. “Always have been the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.” She smiles.

“I love you, Liet. Always have and I always will. Until we meet again.” A thought occurs to him. “What changed, you said something changed. What?”

She doesn’t realise it but her hand flies to her stomach and when she sees the realisation in his face she grabs the gun and smashes the butt if it into his temple and his world goes black. She can only hope he doesn’t remember her unconscious movement when he wakes up.

Chapter 14

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #ivar vikings #ragnar #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings ivar #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson x ofc

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artemiseamoon-ficart · 5 months ago

Text

More boards!

When Night Comes

Incubus! Ragnar x Ofc

Story info & previous boards

#incubus!ragnar #ragnar lothbrok #Incubus!Ragnar x ofc #fic: when night comes

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ealdormanink · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write one with Ivar? ❤️

Reader is daughter of King Harald and shes friends and in love with Ivar and she has to marry one of the Ragnarssons and they all want her and she ofc chooses Ivar and he cant believe it.

Written in the Stars

Ivar the boneless x female reader!

A/N: thank you for this request! I hope you like it!!

King Harald's fleet's sails cast long shadows over Kattegat's iron-grey waters. Y/N's fingers traced the wooden railing of her father's ship, her eyes fixed on the approaching shoreline. The familiar silhouettes of the great hall and the busy docks stirred memories that made her heart flutter against her ribs.

The salty breeze carried whispers of past winters spent poring over maps by candlelight, of shared laughter echoing through empty halls when everyone else had retired, of piercing blue eyes that saw her - truly saw her - for who she was.

"The winds have favored us." Harald's voice broke through the symphony of creaking wood and splashing waves. Y/N's fingers stilled on the railing, though she couldn't quite suppress the way her lips curved upward.

Through the morning mist, familiar figures emerged on the docks. There, among his brothers, sat Ivar in his chariot. Even from this distance, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Their eyes met across the narrowing stretch of water, and five years of friendship hung in the space between them.

The ship's bow cut through the last few meters of fjord. As they docked, Ubbe's voice carried across the harbor, "Welcome to Kattegat, King Harald." His eyes lingered on Y/N, calculating and considering in a way that made her spine stiffen.

Hvitserk stepped forward, extending his hand to help her onto the dock. "Princess Y/N." His smile was warm, practiced. "The gods have blessed us with your return."

The wooden planks creaked under her boots as she accepted his assistance, but her attention was drawn to the subtle shift in Ivar's posture, the way his knuckles whitened around the edge of his chariot.

"The journey must have been tiring." Ivar's voice cut through the pleasantries like a blade through silk. His eyes hadn't left her face since she'd first appeared on deck. "Perhaps the princess would prefer to rest before tonight's festivities."

"Always so concerned, brother." Sigurd's words dripped with mockery. "Or perhaps you're simply eager to monopolize her time, as usual?"

Y/N's fingers unconsciously found the silver pendant at her throat - a gift from Ivar, carved with runes they'd deciphered together during one of their many late-night conversations. Those nights when they'd abandon the noise of the great hall, finding solace in ancient sagas and battle strategies that only they seemed to understand.

The great hall buzzed with activity as servants prepared for the evening's feast. Y/N's chambers overlooked the main square, where memories lingered in every corner. Her fingers traced the windowsill where, years ago, she'd first found Ivar alone, poring over his father's old maps.

"Your form is wrong." The echo of her younger self's voice played in her mind. She'd corrected his interpretation of the English coastline that day, earning not his usual sharp retort, but a look of genuine surprise. That was the first time he'd smiled at her - really smiled.

A knock at the door pulled her from the memory. Astrid, one of the servants, entered with fresh water.

"The sons of Ragnar are asking after you, Princess." Astrid's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "All of them."

The weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Everyone knew why Harald had brought his daughter to Kattegat this time. Alliances needed to be strengthened, and marriage was the surest way.

Y/N's feet carried her to the courtyard, where she found Ubbe first. He stood tall, every inch the eldest brother, watching the training grounds with calculated interest.

"You've grown more beautiful since we last met." His voice was diplomatic, measured. He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the political ambition in his eyes. "A union between us would bring great strength to both our people."

Before she could respond, Hvitserk appeared, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Brother, you sound like you're negotiating a trade deal." His easy smile didn't quite mask the hunger in his gaze. "Our princess deserves poetry, not politics."

Y/N's eyes drifted past them both, landing on the familiar figure by the weapons rack. Ivar sat cleaning his axe - the same one she'd helped him choose three winters ago. His movements were precise, following the pattern she'd shown him: three strokes down, one across, just as her mother had taught her.

"Still pining after the cripple?" Sigurd's voice slithered from behind her. "You could have any of us, yet you waste your time with him."

The familiar surge of protective anger rose in her chest, but before she could speak, Ivar's axe embedded itself in the post beside Sigurd's head.

"Your aim is improving," Y/N said, the words falling naturally from her lips, an old joke between them. "Though you're still pulling slightly to the left."

"Perhaps I need another lesson." Ivar's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were back in that first winter, when she'd spent hours helping him adjust his throwing technique, never once mentioning his legs, focusing only on his strength.

The feast hall glowed with firelight, casting dancing shadows across faces both familiar and strange. Y/N sat at the high table, her father's words still ringing in her ears: "You must choose one of Ragnar's sons before the next full moon."

Her eyes drifted across the hall, watching the brothers in turn. Ubbe stood among the warriors, every gesture calculated to display his leadership. Hvitserk charmed a group of shield-maidens, though his gaze kept finding its way back to her. Sigurd strummed his oud, his song carrying notes of barely concealed mockery.

And Ivar... Ivar sat in his usual corner, away from the crowds, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. The same spot where they'd spent countless evenings discussing everything from battle tactics to the gods themselves.

"Do you remember," his voice caught her off guard as she approached his table, drawn to him as always, "the night you taught me about the stars?"

How could she forget? They'd stayed up until dawn, her finger pointing out constellations while he told her the stories behind each one. She'd never told him that she'd already known them all - she'd just wanted to hear his voice, to see the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of the gods.

"You were a terrible student," she teased, sliding onto the bench beside him. The familiar scent of leather and metal wrapped around her like an old blanket. "You kept making up new constellations."

"And you kept believing them." His smile, rare and genuine, made her heart stutter. "Until you realized I was describing shapes that looked like Sigurd falling off a horse."

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with years of shared moments and unspoken words. Around them, the feast continued, but they existed in their own world, just as they always had.

"They're all watching you," Ivar said finally, his voice tight. "My brothers. They all want you."

"Let them watch." Her fingers found the edge of the table, inches from his. "They don't see me the way you do."

"And how do I see you?" His question came out barely above a whisper, vulnerable in a way only she was allowed to witness.

"Like I'm more than just Harald's daughter. Like I'm..." She paused, remembering all the times he'd challenged her mind, valued her opinions, trusted her judgment. "Like I'm me."

The firelight caught the silver of his arm ring - the one she'd helped him forge two summers ago, their fingers working the metal together as she'd steadied his hand.

The moment of choice arrived with the rising moon. The great hall fell silent as Y/N stood before the assembled crowd, her father's expectant gaze heavy upon her shoulders. Four brothers stood before her, four possible futures stretched out like paths in the darkness.

Ubbe stepped forward first, ever the diplomat. "Choose wisely, Princess. The future of our peoples rests upon this decision." His words echoed against the wooden walls, practiced and perfect.

Hvitserk offered her a playful wink. "Choose with your heart, not your head." His charm sparkled like sunlight on water, beautiful but fleeting.

Sigurd simply smirked, his fingers still wrapped around his oud. "Though some choices," his eyes flickered to Ivar, "might be less... conventional than others."

And Ivar... Ivar remained still, his eyes fixed on the ground. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped his crutch - a gesture she'd learned meant he was preparing himself for disappointment.

Y/N's feet carried her forward, past Ubbe's calculated smile, past Hvitserk's outstretched hand, past Sigurd's mocking gaze. She stopped before Ivar, close enough to see the subtle tremor in his hands.

"I choose Ivar Ragnarsson," her voice rang clear through the hall. "I choose the man who saw me as an equal before he saw me as a princess."

Ivar's head snapped up, disbelief warring with hope in his ice-blue eyes. "You can't," he whispered, for her ears alone. "You deserve someone who can-"

"I deserve someone who challenges my mind," she cut him off, her hand finding his cheek. "Someone who values my thoughts as much as my title. Someone who taught me to read the stars, even while making up constellations to make me laugh."

The hall erupted in murmurs, but Y/N heard only the sharp intake of Ivar's breath. His free hand found hers, trembling slightly.

"You've always been my choice," she continued, soft enough that only he could hear. "Since that first day when you argued with me about the English coastline. Since every night we spent planning battles and reading sagas. Since every moment you saw me for who I am, not who I was born to be."

"But I'm-" he started.

"You're Ivar," she said simply. "My Ivar. The only one who's ever matched me, challenged me, understood me. The only one I could ever choose."

Slowly, like dawn breaking over the horizon, a smile spread across Ivar's face - not his usual smirk, but the real smile she'd come to treasure. His fingers tightened around hers, and in that moment, they were back in every shared laugh, every quiet conversation, every silent understanding that had led them here.

"The gods themselves couldn't have given me a greater gift," he whispered, and Y/N saw in his eyes the same truth she'd known all along - that some choices are made long before they're spoken aloud, written in the stars they'd watched together all those nights ago.

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #oneshot #ragnar lothbrok #vikings #vikings x reader #x reader #halfdan the black #the last kingdom #finan #romance

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galleyswithgoodoars · 2 days ago

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Echoes of Eternity

Ragnar Lothbrok x Freydis Agmundsdottir (OFC)

Warnings; Lagertha exists but she and Ragnar ended things peacefully. Infidelity, Time period accurate sexism, AFAB (assigned female at birth) O!FC, Dub-Con, Sexual Coercion, Coercion, Sexual Manipulation, Oral Sex (F receiving) Dirty Talk, Unprotected sex, Breeding Kink (I fully believe Ragnar has a breeding kink) angst, stillbirth/loss of a child and/or children. Aslaug bashing, the only children Ragnar has are the ones Freydis births and Bjorn.

Earl Agmund Haraldson never thought losing to Ragnar Lothbrok would be so humiliating - he was confident in his Jarldom over Kattegat. Confident the city would bloom and he would maintain control over everything

Including his daughter: Freydis.

But when Lagertha chooses the Jarl’s illegitimate daughter to be Ragnar’s second wife it triggers a ripple of something that cannot be controlled.

Call it fate, call it luck.

Freydis calls it love and she knows it’ll echo through time. Sung in halls to crowds or told to children in their beds when the sun goes down.

-coming soon-

Tagging: @munstysmind, @watermeezer, @brklnnvv, @sherwoodknights, @gothicacetheatrekid @monaskydancer

Ask if you want to be on the taglist

#vikings fanfiction #vikings #ragnar lothbrok x f!oc #Ragnar Lothbrok x Freydis Agmundsdottir #dni if you’re under twenty one

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cas-kingdom · 1 year ago

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poll 1/2

make sure to check the 2nd poll!

(all drabbles)

#all daughter/sister!reader relationships #as always #platonic #will get to all of these eventually #but what do you want to see first?#text

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kilojulietsierra · 2 years ago

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In Good Hands (Ragnar Ragnarson x OFC)

Couldn’t help myself, had to do one more for my favorite Ragnar the Younger!

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of death and violence, childhood sweethearts to lovers, first kiss, flirting, jealousy, naked cuddling, smut

~~~

Earl Ragnar watched his son further up the beach talking to Saga, the brown haired, green eyed daughter of one of his men. The younger Ragnar was smiling, which was often the case when he and Saga were together, but the girls smile was softer, sadder than normal. "We should take her with us." His wife appeared beside him. "This again?" Ragnar acknowledged his wife briefly before returning to readying the ship. "They are children." "Who is it that says every day how Ragnar is a man now, ready to be blooded in battle." She emphasizes the last part with a gruffer tone to mimic his own. When she receives nothing more than a disgruntled scoff she continues on, "Saga will be of marrying age soon." "She will." "And Ragnar certainly..." "Ragnar is sailing to fight, not to hump." Ragnar finally turns to face her fully. "Once we are settled, have our lands, her family will come soon enough. Then we will see. " ~~~ "Will you miss me?" She asked, smiling, but trying to hide the tinge of sadness inside. Young Ragnar smiled down at her, "Of course." He pauses and then adds, with mischief in his eyes, "Though not for long." The remark earns him a hard shove to his chest though it doesn't budge him an inch. "You're a pigs ass." Ragnar laughs and catches her hands before she can assault him further, "I only mean... that your family will be soon behind us. Father has said so." She does not respond, face still indignant, but she also does not pull her wrists from his grip. "Ragnar!" His fathers voice booms down the beach, over the sound of the tide. "It is time!" Young Ragnar looked his fathers way and nods before turning back to Saga, his own smile softer now, less teasing. "Would you kiss me before I go?" Saga blinks up at him, considering, before turning her face to the side and presenting her cheek. Again Ragnar laughs, smile wider at her teasing, but all the same he drops a light kiss against the corner of her eye. He rested his lips there for a moment, "I will miss you." When he pulls back he can see that her eyes are misty, but she takes a deep breath and sets her face. Her hands come up to his jaw, his grip still gentle around her wrists, and she tugs him back down to her. "The next time I see you Ragnar Ragnarson, you will be a man." She kisses him, shy and sweet, on the lips and pulls back only enough to look him in the eye, "Now go, earn your reputation." Ragnar beams, moves his right hand to cup her cheek as gently as he could and rests his forehead against hers. Both of them closing their eyes and soaking in the moment, the damp air and the sound of the sea, the touch of eachother and the racing of young hearts. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Do you not have your own family to harass Ragnar Ragnarson?" Saga teased as young Ragnar trotted into camp on his big black horse and pulled up to a stop in front of her. "I can do that whenever I want." He tossed back at her with a grin as he swung down from the saddle. Saga shook her head as she patted the horse on his huge, blazed face. The war horse leaning into her gentle and familiar touch. "And my suffering is a special occasion?" Ragnar approached her, one hand resting on the steeds neck. "Very special." They stared at eachother for a moment smiling. Finally she broke the silence, "And what is your excuse this time?" "No excuse," Ragnar shook his head, "More ships are coming, I'm riding down the river to meet them." When Saga said nothing he continued, explaining his reasoning further, "Come with me." "Ragnar..." She looked around the farm, "Father will hang me from the rafters if I sneak away." "I'll ask him myself." His face was earnest, his voice sure. A reminder he was no longer the boy she had grown up with. "Really?" Saga seemed unconvinced, but an exciting little glint of hope lit within her. Ragnar merely winked and handed her the reins to his horse as he stepped past her, poking her in the side as he passed. Still standing by the horse Saga occupied herself by undoing a fairy knot in the beasts mane, while she watched. Ragnar and her father speak for a moment. She noticed, for the first time, that her father now had to look up to speak to the younger man face to face. The little glint inside her grew, warming her from the inside out. When her father looked her way she held her breath and stood up straight, goosebumps rising on her arms upon her fathers nod. Young Ragnar was beaming as he approached, "C'mon then." "You'll have to help me saddle a horse." Saga reminded him but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face caught her off guard. Not near so much as when he took hold of her waist and hoisted her up into the saddle. "Ragnar Ragnarson, what are you doing!?" She hissed at him. Mortified at what her father would do. Ragnar did not share her concern. He only grabbed the reins and a hand full of mane before swinging onto the horses back behind her. "I told you," Her breath caught in her chest as he settled in close against her back and wrapped his arms around her to take the reins, "Taking you to the river to watch the ships come in." She had thought for certain her father would drag him down from his horse as they walked past, but much to her surprise he only hid a small smile and patted the horse on the rump as they walked by. ~~~ Her cheeks hurt from smiling as they ran across an open clearing on the other side of the woods. The horse had a smooth and comfortable gait, Ragnar was a solid presence behind her. His right arm held her tight around the middle and she could feel as much as hear him laughing behind her. At the top of a rise he pulled the horse to a stop. Even though they had stopped his arm still kept her held tight. Ragnars voice was clear, cheerful, if a little breathless from the laughter. "There they are. See them?" He lifted his right hand to point to the string of ships rowing their way up the river but he immediately curled his arm back around her again. "There's more than a dozen." Saga said, not expecting so many. "And more will come. Always more." He spoke so close to her ear it made her shiver and Ragnar chuckled, holding her tighter and pressing his nose into her hair. "Are you cold girl?" His lips brushed against her ear and she shivered again, "Or ticklish?" He dug his fingers into her side and squeezed, causing her to flinch and shy away from him with a gasp. She flinched so much the horse had to shift his weight, but Ragnar did not cease until she was bent over the horses neck, swatting at his hand, yelling for him to stop between fits of uncontrollable laughter. Taking mercy on her he stopped his attack, his own laughter full and loud as he pulled her back up to sit, leaning her against his chest. Laughter still in his voice he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Saga shivered again, but this time rather than teasing Ragnar simply held her tighter and looked back to the ships. His voice low, "I remember when you and your family arrived, with the rest of fathers ships." He paused, smiling to himself when he felt her lean further into him, her hand moving to cover his, lacing their fingers together. He smiled wide and pressed another kiss behind her ear, "I came to this spot every day until I caught sight of the ships." "Don't pretend you were waiting only for me." Finally with her wits returned she snarked back at him. The smile in his voice evident he defended himself, "Believe what you want, but I was happy to see you." Her hand squeezed his as she stared at the ships creeping closer and closer, "You'll have ships of your own soon." " I will." Ragnar agreed. "Would you come to the water and see me off? Kiss me goodbye again?" "Would you come back to me again, if I did?" Her voice was solemn now, and quiet. Ragnar did not hesitate. "If that's what the fates have decided," He paused, took a moment to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, "And I believe it is." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Saga!" Saga turned and saw the boy approaching her. She smiled," Jonas, what are you doing here?" She stood up from the work she was doing and smiled. "My sister said she saw you collecting walnuts the other morning, I know you enjoy them so I brought you these." He held up a small sack, "They've already been dried and soaked." With a smile Saga climbed up the creek bank to approach him, "That's very thoughtful Jonas. Will you sit and have some with me?" He beamed, "I would like that." The two of them sat on a rock overlooking the creek snacking on what nuts they could open. Jonas sat on one side of the boulder with a smaller stone in his hand so that he could smash the hard hulls open. "Will your family be there tonight? The feast to celebrate young Ragnar before he and his men leave for Irland?" Saga asked as she picked the meat of a nut out of the crumbled shell. Jonas paused, a particularly hard shell sitting on the boulder between them, "Yes, we will be there. I will get to see you twice in one day." He gave her a shy smile. Saga laughed, "How unfortunate for you, I hope that does not ruin the fun for you." Wiping her skirt off she stood up and closed the sack of walnuts. "I should be getting home, but thank you again for these. I will see you tonight." Jonas watched after her as she headed down the long trail towards her family s farm. Thinking about seeing her at the feast again that night brought a smile to his face. With two more hard hits of the stone in his hand he was finally able to crack open the last shell. Still smiling, thinking of Saga, he popped the nut in his mouth and headed back towards his families own farm. ~~~ The hall was full to bursting and so loud Saga could barely hear herself think. She was glad she had found a spot close to the fire but behind Earl Ragnar and some of the other men where they were retelling stories of their own younger days. Young Ragnar, whom the celebration was for, was sitting across the fire from her and next to his Grandfather. He was watching her where she sat, trying her best to crack more walnuts open with the blunt handle of a knife with little to no luck. She was about to give up on her treat all together when she happened to glance up and see young Ragnar watching her. He smiled, then leaned in close to hear something Ravn had said to him. Ragnar listened and then looked back to her, smiling to see she was still watching and then he turned to speak into his Grandfathers ear. A moment later the older man was smiling and patting his grandson on the arm and then Ragnar stood up and moved through the crowd to join her on the opposite side. "Still eating? Is the feast not enough for you?" He teased as he came close. Patting the young man next to her roughly on the shoulder, a wordless order to move. As a response Saga kicked out with her foot and caught Ragnar in the shin. Hard enough to make him grimace but also laugh as he plopped down next to her. "It would be a shame for me to have to kill you at your own party." Ragnar laughed more as he got comfortable, "Now why would you do that?" He watched with mirth in his eyes as she attempted to bludgeon open one of the nuts. "For calling me fat!" "I did no such thing." He moved to drape his arm around her shoulders, "What is this you're trying to do?" Not waiting for the answer he took the blade from her hands and stuck it in the wall behind them. "Trying to open these stubborn things." She scowled at him as he took her blade. "Here, let me see." Ragnar reached across her lap to grab a handful from the small sack beside her. With a smile, like he was about to tell her secret, he leaned in close and dropped all but two in her lap. Holding the two in his one hand he closed his fist around them and watched her eyes snap open, as the shells crunched. When he opened his fist the two shells were nothing but crumbles and the walnuts within were revealed. Ragnar watched as she plucked the walnuts from his hand, grinning at how careful she was to avoid touching his hand. Tossing the shells into the fire he reached for two more and again, cracked them open in his one bare hand. This time however he popped the walnuts into his own mouth. "Hey!" She swatted at him, "They're mine!" "I'm the one doing all the work." He ignored the smack to his chest and grabbed two more to crack. Unable to stop smiling, watching Saga reach for her cup of ale, Ragnar held his hand out flat, offered it to her and waited for her to reach for them only to snap his fingers closed and refuse her. "Ragnar Ragnarson, I swear! You could teach a donkey a thing or two about being an ass!" She shoved her shoulder into him hard but he took it in stride, only tightening the arm around her shoulders to tug her closer. "Now that's not nice." He chuckled, pressing his forehead into the side of hers, "Here", he lifted his hand, but pulled it away when she reached for it. Shaking his head his whispered in her ear, "Let me." Her eyes shot open wide and a flush crept to her cheeks, only made worse by his next words. "Open your mouth." Suddenly out of her depths and her heart racing Saga wasn't sure how to respond and so, she did the only thing she could think to do. Do as she was told. So, she opened her mouth the tiniest bit and her heart caught in her throat as Ragnar carefully placed the treat in her mouth. As she began to chew she heard him chuckle but this time it wasn't teasing. Based on the look on his face and the low rumble behind the quiet laughter, Ragnar was pleased. With his left hand toying with her hair he pointed to the sack of goodies with the other, "Grab a couple. You try." "Very funny." Saga brushed some shells to the floor, ignoring him. "I'm serious, there's a trick to it, I'll show you." "Oh there's a trick to it..." Saga rolled her eyes, "I thought you were just that strong." A sharp, quick tug to her hair had her giggling, remembering all the times he had done that as a boy. "Stop teasing, do as I say." He grunted out a huff of air as her elbow connected with his ribs but still he laughed, watching as she placed two walnuts in the palm of her hand. "Now, use one to crack the other." Helping her he placed them a certain way and then told her to squeeze her hand tight. She squeezed and squeezed to no avail. Beside her Ragnar was chuckling, egging her on. "Harder! Harder! Don't weaken!" Finally taking pity on her he wrapped his hand around hers, nearly covering it completely, and helped her. Squeezing carefully but with enough force for the shells to shatter. Saga laughed as they both opened their hands, "Victory!" Ragnar laughed into his cup of ale as he watched her pick out the pieces to eat, "They put up a good fight." He watched, arching his brow as her face changed before him. Then very slowly, as if doubting herself, she raised one up to his mouth, "Open." Ragnar felt a bolt of lighting shoot down his spine and his left hand grabbed a firm hold of her shoulder. Only hesitating a moment he opened his mouth and watched as her fingers came closer, only to stop a breath away and quickly retreat to place the walnut on her own tongue, where it lingered long enough to taunt him before disappearing behind her lips. He laughed out loud, "You little shit." his right hand reaching to grab hers and stop her from stealing the last of them. They struggled for a moment, both tugging and pulling, both becoming breathless with laughter. As he finally won the wrestling match. Saga relinquished and placed the last walnut in his waiting mouth, shivering when his lips brushed over the tips of her fingers. Together they settled down, their breath calming but their eyes on fire and staring at each other. Ragnar pulled her closer, but it was Saga that broke the tension. Her voice soft and uncertain, "It's going to be so long before I see you again..." She let her hand move to hold his forearm for comfort, "What if you don't remember me? What if you forget about me and moments like this?" In an instant his face becomes serious, his eyes soften, "Never." He cups her face gently and holds her gaze, "I'll think of you every night when I close my eyes. I know I will." Slowly, his eyes watched hers closely as he leaned forward, brushing his lips over hers once. Then a second time, both of them more sure, and Ragnars eyes fell closed as Saga relaxed deeper into his arms. His hand still held her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her brow. Saga leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as she breathed in deep, "What if I am married while you are gone?" Ragnar’s jaw clenched, his eyes slid closed for a moment as he copied her deep breath. When he opened his eyes and held her gaze his voice was honest and his hold on her firm, "Then I hope he takes care of you, treats you well until I return and can have you for myself." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Earl Ragnar, as he was now known after the death of his father, sat at the head of the hall with the others. A celebration for the arrival of more men for the Dane army. Ragnar sat and drank and joked with the others but could not quite feel lighthearted enough to really join in. A new group entered the hall and one of them caught his attention. "Excuse me boys." He hefted himself out of his seat and worked his way through the hall to the man he recognized. "Ragnar!" The older man welcomed him with open arms and a strong hug. They embraced each other. "Look at you, a man and a warrior to make your father proud." He patted him on both shoulders, "It is a pleasure to see you Lord. You have my sword, and all my men. We are glad to see you returned. Glad to serve the Earl Ragnar." "And you friend. I am happy to see you as I'm happy to have you with me. As you were with my Father." Ragnar truly was happy to see his fathers man, but almost immediately his mind wandered to Saga. Her father must have noticed something cross Ragnar’s face because he smiled, "Saga will be pleased to see you returned as well. " Ragnar blinked, his back straightened, "Saga, she is here?" Her father smiled, and motioned across the hall. "She is there." She was there. On the far side of the hall among a group of men and women laughing and drinking. He could see well enough to know it was her, but one thing stood out to him clearly. "She wears her hair down." "Her husband was lost, last spring." When Ragnar turned to face the elder man, there must of been something in his eyes that belied his questions, "Go to her Ragnar, she will be glad to see you." Ragnar paused a moment looking from Saga to her father. He embraced him tightly once more and began to wade his way through the crowd. Saga did not see him approach until he was nearly in front of her. Immediately her face fell in shock. "Ragnar?" She looked him up and down, "Gods it is you!" She nearly threw herself at him and he caught her easily and with a smile. Wrapping his arms around her tightly and lifting her two feet off the ground. He held her there, her arms around his neck and their temples pressed together. "I have missed that smile." Ragnar told her. Then squeezing her tighter he whispered to her, "I've missed you." She sighed happily as he set her down, keeping her close. "I've missed you, and your hugs." Ragnar squeezed her tightly once more, grinning as she reached up to hold his face in her hands. "Look at you." She gazed up at him smiling, her thumb smoothing over the new ink adorning his brow. "You approve?" He released her, only to hold her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his smirk tilting up in one corner. Saga laughed, "I do." She continue to smile up at him. Ragnar looked her over, taking in the sight of her for the first time in years. "Come, sit with me." He took her hand in his and pulled her towards the front of the hall towards his seat. Not even waiting for her protest though one did not come. At least until they come close to the lords table, taken over by the leaders of the Danes. She tugged at his hand, pulling him to a stop, "Ragnar, wait." He turned to face her, confused, "What's wrong?" "Are you sure this is..." "Have you mourned your man?" He interrupted her, stepping in close to her. When she nodded he continued, "Have you taken another?" She shook her head. "Do you still think of me as you did when we were younger?" Her slight blush gave him his answer but he waited for her nod. "Then let them see. You are my woman, and I am your man." He looked her over intently, "If that is what you still want." He waited patiently and was pleasantly surprised when she tightened her grip on his hand and this time pulling him along. Ragnar smiled and caught up to her pulling her close, his hands on her waist and spoke in her ear, "There she is." His comment earned him an elbow in the ribs and he laughed. At the table Saga turned to look for a chair but before she could find one she found herself instead pulled down into Ragnars lap. His hold on her strong, his body against hers solid, but she was comfortable and happy. When he would kiss her it was somehow both, like they had not seen each other in years and like they had never parted. Each time he would look up at her, pleased she was there, in his arms where she belonged once again. ~~~ Saga released a deep sigh and felt herself sink further into the bed, the furs and into Ragnar’s warmth. Ragnar was resting back against the headboard of the bed and a stack of pillows, Saga laid against him, her back to his chest and her head on his shoulder. His sword hand lay around her shoulders and against her bare chest. Her fingers fiddling with his. "What are you thinking?" Ragnar asked softly. "For a man with so many muscles you are very soft and comfortable." Saga teased In retaliation Ragnar reached to tweak a nipple between the rough pads of his fingers. When Saga squealed and shied away form his touch he laughed and pulled her tighter against him. "Tell me what you're really thinking." When she turned over to face him her smile was soft and so he softened his grip on her. Stroking his hand up and down her naked back. She enjoyed the feel of it for a moment, her eyes closed. When she opened them again Ragnar was looking upon her with a smile and the fire reflecting in his eyes. Saga smiled and crawled up so they were face to face, "I am glad the Gods brought you back to me." Ragnar pulled her in for a kiss, loving the feel of her naked body against his, "I knew they would." With another content sigh she laid her head on his chest and rested her hand over the ink there. "You know what else I was thinking about?" "Hmm?" His hand settled low on her waist and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's silly." "Tell me." "Do you remember? The last night we were together? Before you left for Irland." "I do. You let me sit with you by the fire, hold you, kiss you." His hand began to stroke her side and then out of nowhere he chuckled, "I was cracking open walnuts for you. I was worried you were going to cut a finger off trying to break them open with a knife." He laughed again, and it rumbled in his chest. Saga laughed with him, "You want to know something funny?" "Hmm?" "Do you remember Jonas? The boy that lived down the creek from my family?" "Vaguely. The odd, skinny one?" "Yes," She laughed, almost a giggle. "Those walnuts were a gift from him." She felt Ragnar twist his head to look at her. Then he burst out laughing, loudly. "What?" "That little shit." He laughed again, pulling her closer, "He spent that whole night glaring at me and now I finally know why." While Ragnar was still laughing Saga added, "We sat by the creek for awhile and ate some together. He had to crack them open with a rock." Ragnar laughed even harder, "No wonder it looked like he would've like to kill me." He moved, rolling so she was beneath him, while he continued to chuckle. "I thought of that night often," Ragnar paused to reach for Saga's face, tracing a finger over her full bottom lip, "The look on your face when I told you to open your mouth so I could feed you." His eyes darkened and he groaned as if in appreciation. "You looked so sweet and shy." Saga rolled her eyes, reaching one arm up to wrap around his neck and with the other she stroked her own thumb over his bottom lip. He watched her intently, still a soft smile on his face, even as his eyes darkened, "Now look at you." Ragnar slid his rough, worn hand over her throat and breast, down her flat stomach and between her legs. For a long, silent moment they stared at each other, the only sounds the crack of the fire and the occasional breathy hum from one or the other of them as Ragnar played with the wetness of her cunt. The mess they'd already made together remained and made her entrance even slicker than before. Ragnar could not help the throaty growl of satisfaction as he entered again. Hearing her moan as his thick cock slid home and feeling her tugging him down to her by his beard. "You are so much more than I even could dream," He murmured against her lips, growling again as his praise sent her arching up against him, "When the winds were cold and the ground was hard," He began a steady pace, each stroke making sure to reach as deep within her as he could. "I would take my cock in my hand and think of you." Ragnar thrust harder and Saga moaned, hands scrabbling at his back. "I would think of you, soft and warm beneath me," He paused to catch her eye and grinned, "Smirking up at me just like that." When Ragnar nipped at her bottom lip, and they smiled against eachothers kiss. "Now you have me." She whispered between breathy gasps. "I'm yours Ragnar, you have me." At her words Ragnar could not help but groan and crash his lips down on hers, dropping the whole of his weight onto her as he fucked into the mattress, "And I will not let you go," His voice was becoming strained with the effort, both of them panting as she wrapped her legs around him and he clawed at her thigh, "Never again Saga, I'll never let you go again." ~~~

#The Last Kingdom #ragnar the younger #ragnar ragnarson #Ragnar x ofc #ragnar fanfiction #ragnar the younger x ofc #ragnar the last kingdom

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whiskeyxcola · 7 years ago

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Little Wolf

Summary: On her way back home from Kattegat, the Jarl’s daughter runs into trouble, but is rescued by a childhood friend. Pairing: Ragnar Lothbrok x OFC Ildri (Kind of) Word Count: 1410 Warnings: Trigger warning for attempted sexual assault, some violence. Challenge: @coffee-obsessed-writer‘s Fic for Follows challenge. Prompt is in bold. A/N: This is sort of a prequel to a Vikings series I have in the works but haven’t posted yet. Thank youuuuu to @ashleymalfoy for encouraging me with this pairing and the series as a whole. You’re an infinity stone. <3

The clouds overhead darkened the sky far before nighttime, but Ildri was certain she could make it home from Thora’s before the rain began. Pulling her woven shawl closer around her shoulders, she quickened her step when lightning struck and thunder boomed. The storm was coming more quickly than she had predicted; she feared now that she wouldn’t make it home before the rain began to fall.

She was just outside of Kattegat when the whispers not far behind her began. Ildri took a deep breath and continued walking, shoulders back and head held high. As the Jarl’s daughter, she was used to people whispering about her behind her back. Though she had been friends with Thora and Floki and the Lothbrok brothers since she was a child, the whispers and stares were never in short supply.

“It’s going to rain,” a man said, catching up to her.

Ildri glanced at him; she recognized him from around Kattegat, but wouldn’t know his name if she were asked. “I’m aware. Thank you.”

He kept in step with her, and then she was aware of another man on her other side. The look in that man’s eye wasn’t one that she was anxious to have on her for any longer, or ever again.

“The Jarl’s daughter shouldn’t be walking alone in such weather. Such darkness,” the new man grinned. His teeth were nearly rotting out of his mouth.

Remembering her place, Ildri hid her disgust and again thanked them for their concern. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you.”

Though she quickened her step, the men did not falter or drop behind her. Fear began to chill over her skin, and her breath was heavy in her chest. Keeping her eyes forward, Ildri willed her own home to appear in the distance, but all she could see was empty land.

The first few rain drops fell; she felt them just before she felt a dirty, calloused hand grab her by the arm. She wrenched herself away, staring up into the eyes of the first man.

“How dare you touch me without my permission!” Ildri snapped. “My father will hear of this and you will think twice before you touch any woman again.”

After that, she took off in a full on run, her shawl falling behind her. The men were just as quick as she, if not quicker, and caught up with her after only a few seconds. Ildri screamed as they dragged her away, only to have one of those dirty, calloused hands clamped over her mouth. Still, she struggled and screamed.

The men dragged her kicking and attempting to scream into a thick of trees nearby. One of them held her around the shoulders, her back against his chest. As the other man worked to undo the ties and hooks of her dress, the man holding her worked his hand past the collar of her dress and over one breast. Tears fell from her eyes, falling down her face along with the rain drops which were falling more steady. She knew only enough to defend herself in the most basic of ways, not against this filth and their drunken strength.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” the man holding her laughed, “we won’t let your misery last long.”

Ildri feared what exactly he meant by that, but there was nothing she could do to stop what was happening. The man’s hand began to travel further down. Ildri choked back a sob. She closed her eyes and pretended that those hands were that of someone else; another man with blue eyes whose hands she had wished for a long time would be the only hands that would ever touch her.

“Let her go.”

The voice of the exact man she had been thinking of just seconds before. Ildri breathed a sigh of relief as the man withdrew his hand and pushed her forward, looking to see who had stopped him. The other man grabbed a hold of her, turning her as well. She saw Ragnar and Floki there, daggers at the ready. Her eyes met Ragnar’s, and he seemed to have no concern over the situation. Floki’s smirk assured he that he was not concerned, either.

The first man came forward. “And why should we?”

Ragnar’s eyes grew, an expression that Ildri knew well. The fire of Odin himself had been lit inside this man, and it would not end well for those who dared to oppose him.

With a single strike, Ragnar knocked out the man who had touched her. He hit the ground hard, unaware, and bleeding from the nose. The other man, clearly a follower, pushed her towards her friends and stuttered out apologies.

Floki took Ildri by the hand and tucked her behind himself and Ragnar. She worked to fasten her clothes again, while Floki and Ragnar threatened the men well. The one still conscious ran off, leaving his friend to fend for himself in the rain.

Ragnar took Ildri by the upper arms and searched her for injury. It was the first inkling she had that perhaps Ragnar returned the love she had for him.

“Are you hurt?” Ragnar asked.

The jarl’s daughter broke. Her chin quivered and she whimpered, though she tried to keep herself composed. Ragnar lifted her in his arms, and the tears fell of their own will.

“We will take her back to my place,” Floki decided for all three of them. “The jarl will hear of this tomorrow when the rain stops and we escort her back home. He will assume the rain has kept her away.”

Ragnar nodded, and the trio made way for Loki’s dwelling. Ragnar carried Ildri the whole way.

When they arrived, Floki provided her with dry clothes. After changing, Ildri laid hers out in front of the fire to dry. They all ate supper together, and, though it was relatively early, Ildri found that she was ready to sleep.

Ragnar laid next to her, stroking her hair. “I haven’t seen your hair down like this since we were children.”

Ildri smiled up at him. “Probably because it hasn’t been down like this since we were children. Even when I sleep, my mother requires that I have it braided. Feels better this way.”

He smirked. “Brat.”

“I cannot help what I was brought into,” Ildri laughed. Ragnar smiled with her, but it subsided for both of them after a few moments. “I would have been killed today, were it not for you and Floki. And even if they left me alive, I never would have been the same when they were done with me. I don’t know how or why you were there, but I will never be more grateful for anything than for Odin sending you after me.”

Ragnar took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it was, Ildri. I’ve seen you leave Thora’s many times and never felt the need to see you home. Today, something told me to follow you. I’m glad I did. To lose you, Ildri …”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but it was enough for Ildri for now. With a deep breath, she pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Perhaps now my father will allow for me to have more fighting training. Though, I think it’s more likely that he’ll simply not allow me to go to and from Thora’s by myself.”

“You’re probably right,” Ragnar agreed. “Fortunately for you, you have two friends quite willing to teach you whatever you’d like to learn.”

Ildri sat up, her eyes hopeful. “Really? You and Floki would teach me?”

“I’m sure Thora would lend a hand as well,” Ragnar nodded. “So tell me, little wolf, do you want to punish those who have wronged you?”

Ildri nodded earnestly, her grin half due to his promise to teach her about fighting, and half due to his use of the nickname he hadn’t used since they were children. “Can we start now?”

Ragnar chuckled. “Now, it’s still raining, and you need to rest. Floki and I will be not far, if you need anything.”

Ildri tucked herself in again, her heart racing even faster when Ragnar kissed her forehead before leaving her on her own. With all that had happened in the last couple of hours, she would have thought she would have trouble sleeping. Within minutes, however, Ildri was asleep, lost in dreams of living a life as the wife of Ragnar Lothbrok.

#vikings #fanficton #dragonsf3challenge #little wolf #ragnar #Ragnar lothbrok #ofc #ildri #ildri sigvor #Ragnar x ofc #Ragnar lothbrok x ofc #Ragnar x ildri #ragnar lothbrok x ildri sigvor #I'll be surprised if anyone reads this #and that's okay #Ashley is an infinity stone

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artemiseamoon · 2 years ago

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Chapter one officially revised! I’m working on 2 as we speak.

When Night Comes

Incubus! Ragnar x ofc

#ragnar lothbrok #incubus! Ragnar #revised #update coming #completing this story this month 💜#vikings fanfiction #Ragnar fanfic #Ragnar x ofc #fic: when night comes

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mads-weasley · 6 months ago

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1. Shadows of the Gods

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Eira Torsteinsdottir (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: this is a little introduction for Eira and some of the other main characters!! :)

Word Count: 1.1k

The cold wind of Kattegat cut through the town’s small cottages, the air subzero coming off the frozen fjord. While she hadn’t lived in Kattegat for too long, she noticed things were rapidly changing…things were quieter now. Shadows stretched long over the snow-covered ground, and a bad omen had fallen over the town since Ivar the Boneless’ rise to power. People moved carefully through the town, wary of the ever-watchful soldiers who stood at every corner.

Why stay in Kattegat?

It was a question she asked herself daily, though she could never exactly find an answer.

Eira stepped carefully through the front door of a modest cottage, the hinges creaking in protest as a wave of heat hit her face, the smell of sickness haning thick in the air. It was a smell she’d gotten used to by now. By the fire, a woman sat wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, her hands busy knitting even as a faint sheen of sweat clung to her forehead.

“Don’t hover, girl,” Liv said without looking up. “I’m not dead yet.”

A soft smile tugged at Eira’s lips despite the worry pinching her brow. “I wasn’t going to say it, Liv, but you don’t look so far off,” she teased, unpacking her basket.

Liv snorted. “I’ll take that as a compliment. A few wrinkles and a fever won’t do me in. The gods will have to try harder than this.”

Kneeling by the fire, Eira pulled out a handful of dried herbs. As she crushed them in a small mortar, Liv leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes watching her closely.

“You’ve got a quiet way about you tonight,” Liv remarked, her voice softer now. “What troubles you, Eira?”

Eira didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she focused on her task, the rhythmic motion of the pestle grounding her thoughts. “Nothing new,” she murmured at last.

Liv hummed knowingly. “Is it Vali?”

The pestle stilled in Eira’s hand as she glanced over at the older woman. “It’s alright to speak of him,” Liv said gently. “To miss him.”

Eira swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the crushed herbs in the bowl. “I stayed behind that day,” she said quietly. “While he fought, I stayed here. I sometimes wonder if…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“If he would still be here had you gone with him?” Liv finished. “That is nonsense, my child. You’re a healer. You’ve no business dying in a battle when there are lives to save. Your brother wouldn’t want that for you.”

Eira busied herself pouring the herbs into a steaming cup of water. “He’s gone, Liv. And I… I didn’t even see him one last time.”

Liv reached out and placed a steadying hand on Eira’s arm. “We will see all the people we have lost in Valhalla.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Taking the cup from Eira’s hands, Liv smiled. “How about you leave an old woman to her rest? There are others who need you more than I do tonight.”

“But what if I want to stay here with you?”

She raised a brow. “But I am right, yes?”

With a shrug, Eira began packing up her things into her satchel.

“Of course I am,” Liv chuckled, her eyes twinkling despite the fever. “Now off with you girl, before I throw this tea at you.” She waved her hand in mock impatience, her laughter trailing long after Eira as she stepped out into the cold evening air.

Eira navigated the streets of Kattegat, weaving behind carts and vendors toward the home of her next patient. She went through a list of the homes she was still to visit in her mind as she went. Out of nowhere, a rough shove in her side soon sent her falling to the frozen earth, her basket flying and spilling jars of herbs along the ground. She let out a sharp breath, not from the pain but from the indignity of it. Eira clenched her jaw and braced herself on her elbows, looking up.

“Watch where you’re going, healer,” the man said, his voice dripping with mockery. His face bore the red paint of their King. He nudged the edge of her basket with his boot, scattering the jars even farther. “Leave the streets to the warriors.”

Eira, still kneeling in the dirt, bit back the sharp retort that rose to her tongue. She didn’t have the luxury of making enemies here. She wanted to tell him exactly where to shove his so-called authority, but the steady reminder of the soldiers on every corner kept her words in check. She was no warrior, and she couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself. Not here. Not now.

That got you killed.

She started gathering the scattered herbs, her hands moving briskly as the cold bit into her fingers. “I’m just trying to do my work,” she said flatly, not looking up.

The guard chuckled. “You should learn some respect. A wench like you should respect King Ivar, the god.”

A god?

Now Eira was truly lost for words. She reached up to her necklace, feeling the cold iron of her Freyja pendant. Ivar was not a god. Anyone with half a brain could see that.

Standing to her feet, she brushed the snow off her hands. Then she saw him…Ivar the Boneless. His smirk sent shivers down her spine as he slowly limped down the street. Eira watched him go, his head held high, flanked by his ever-present entourage of guards. He seemed untouchable and clearly believed in the delusion that he was a god. Those who walked in his shadow seemed to believe it, too.

Ivar had killed Vali, even if not directly. Eira thought she’d gotten the upper hand against the bitterness that threatened to drown her, but seeing him brought it right back to the surface.

She quickly turned to go down an alleyway to escape the commotion, but she froze when she caught sight of a figure standing near the docks, watching her from a distance. It was a fleeting glance, a man with dark hair and a sharp gaze, but something about him made her pause.

Eira didn’t know who he was, nor did she care. He was probably just another one of Ivar’s men, and if he was watching her, it could only mean trouble. With a shaky sigh, she adjusted the basket on her elbow and turned down the alleyway.

If she had learned anything recently, it was that Kattegat was no longer free like it was under Lagertha. And as much as she hated this new life, there was nothing to do but endure it. For now.

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

#vikings tv #vikings #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #bjorn #hvitserk ragnarsson x oc #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk ragnarsson x ofc #oc: eira thorstensdottir #history vikings #history channel #vikings fanfiction #ragnar lothbrok #lagertha

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paracosmoon · 3 years ago

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king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion

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istorkyou · 2 years ago

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A Thousand Battles (Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - Gun and knife violence, death, language, alcohol use.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count-

Masterlist

Chapter 12

“Baby? Where are you?” Ivar bellows as he walks through the door. He has had an amazing day business wise. Legitimate deals made, lots of money, lots of real estate acquired, a great day for The Lothbroks and he is in the best mood he’s been in for a long while.

“I’m in the studio.”

He hurries to her. “Baby, get your fine ass ready, we are going out tonight!” He nudges her off her stool and smacks her ass lightly.

“Going out? Up to the main house?” The familiar flutter of dread in her stomach starts.

“Nope. I’m taking you out for a meal and then we are meeting the brothers and wives after to go dancing. Well, you will be dancing, I will be watching you like a perv on the sidelines. We had a very productive work day and we are all going out to celebrate.”

“You are joking.” But she can see from his face he isn’t joking at all. She squeals in delight at the prospect of a date, some time away from the house, just the two of them and then dancing after, she squeals again. “What shall I wear?”

“The sexiest thing you own. The more skin the better,” he grabs her face and kisses her roughly. “Hang on,” he checks his watch, “yep, we’ve got time. Get naked, I want to fuck you before we go out.”

————————

Two hours later they are sitting in a dimly lit Italian restaurant enjoying pasta, wine and the conversation, no security guards invading their privacy, Ivar instructed them to stay outside the restaurant.

Ivar can’t keep his hands off of her in her strappy, floaty, rose gold, silk dress that clings to her exactly where it should.

“I’ve got to stop eating, I’m going to pop!” she sits back giving her stomach a pat. “Any more food and I won’t be up for dancing later.”

“Oh you better dance for me, I want to see that dress on the dance floor.”

He carries on eating and she sits back watching her husband with pride. He really is beautiful to look at and she is so happy to be on his arm. The niggling thoughts threatening to drag her happiness down are pushed away quickly. Locked in the depths where they belong. Compartmentalised expertly.

She sees his eyes flit to the door and then do a double take, straightening his spine, hand disappearing under the table. As his face turns to stone her stomach drops. She doesn’t look round. She can hear a group of men, seven she thinks, enter the restaurant and sit down, demanding menus and drinks. In Russian.

Ivar observes them, getting his phone out and texting quickly.

She listens to the men, she doesn’t recognise any of the voices as anyone from her past, but she is loath to look around and check, just in case. Then their conversation changes

“Security for who? Fucking useless. Even more useless now!” The whole party erupts in laughter.

Her stomach drops to her shoes but she needs to keep herself in check.

“Are you ok, Ivar? Who did you text.”

“No one, love, nothing to worry about.” But as she watches the reply come up on his screen and she can see the absolute dissatisfaction with the words he read, his jaw ticking in annoyance.

Then she hears it.

“Look over there. Is that a Lothbrok? Is that the cripple one? Fuck, was it his security?” The first one says.

“Jesus, it is him!” The second voice offers.

The third one confirms it. “That is definitely him. Look. It is him. No mistake. Well, well…”

She breathes in deeply through her nose. They are in trouble. “Ivar. Who can get here faster? Brothers or security?

“What? Why?” He glances past her and sees them staring at him. “Hvitserk is the closest. Security isn't answering.”

“They won’t answer. Call your brother. Do it, Ivar.”

He wastes no time and Hvitserk says he is five minutes away.

“Julietta?” Ivar questions her, eyebrows drawn close. “What is it?”

She glances over her shoulder and weighs them up in less than four seconds before turning back to Ivar.

They all have weapons, three are a real threat judging by their size and visible scarring. Two are older and likely the easiest to take out and two are unknown entities. The scariest of the group, the ones to be taken down first. She couldn’t make out which of them is the leader. She knows they aren’t Olegs men. There was no hint of recognition in their faces when they looked at hers.

“Look at the whore he is with. What I would do to her body…” she hears another say. She rolls her shoulders back, loosening the muscles subtlety. The word whore always makes her blood boil. If it comes to it she will kill that one first.

“We need to get out of here, Ivar. Let’s leave, I have a bad feeling.” First thing in any situation like this one, try and leave with no confrontation.

He peers around her, weighing up the men and she reads his face like a book. Ego. Pure, unadulterated ego and surety he can take them, but as he looks back at her she sees his face change as it dawns on him the situation he is in. In his mind his vulnerable wife is with him, totally helpless. If only she could tell him that she could take out all these men and not even break a sweat. But that is not possible.

He stands up first, doing up his suit button, head tipped arrogantly watching the group, as if daring them to challenge him. When he holds his hand out she sees the faintest hint of a tremble in it and when she puts her hand in he realises it’s fear for her, because he doesn’t know her capabilities.

They only get a few feet from their table before two of the men walk to them and Ivar pulls her behind him.

“You are Ivar Lothbrok?” One asks in English and casually opens his jacket to reveal his gun.

Ivar’s eyes travel to it and back to the giant man in front of him, not changing his expression at all. He turns his face ever so slightly to the side, eyes remain on the men in front of him and he addresses her. “My love, go and sit back down at the table in the corner. This won’t take long.”

The struggle inside of her is real, a waging war of being Liet but knowing it’s Etta who is needed here, to fight at the side of her husband. Luckily, at that moment Hvitserk strides in and takes his place at his brother's side.

“Evening Brother, it seems I have impeccable timing.”

Ivar smirks before addressing Liet again. “Sit down over there, love.” She takes a step into him letting the two knives she discreetly picked up off the tables slip from behind her forearm and tucks them both into the waistband of the back of his trousers. His head swivels to her, questioning her.

She kisses his cheek before whispering into his ear. “Two knives, love. Smallest guy first. He’s the threat.”

He frowns at her but she just nods at him, confirming his understanding and walks slowly to sit down, as instructed.

His attention turns back to the group. “I am Ivar Lothbrok. You are?”

The man laughs. “I am the man responsible for your death.”

Ivar and Hvitserk look at each other and start laughing. “What are you a Bond villain? Responsible for my death,” Ivar mocks mercilessly. “You want to make a name for yourself? We all put our guns over there..” he points to the far corner of the room, “..and we settle this with fists. Two against seven. You all look like you eat your spinach, shouldn’t be too hard now should it? My wife is here, I do not want bullets flying around in the presence of my woman.”

He takes his gun out first, bends down slowly and slides it across the floor to the other side of the room. They all look at each other, rattled by Ivar’s actions. A silent agreement is arrived at and they all do the same.

She takes notes of all the guns. She knows which she will go for if needs be.

Hvitserk does the same.

“Excellent. Now we fight like men.”

Whilst they are distracted Hvitserk punches the main one, breaking his nose and Ivar does the same to the smaller man.

In the commotion she slips around the fight and picks up two of the guns, kicking the others further away.

She looks back in time to see Ivar throw Hvitserk one of the knives she stashed on him and they both drive the blades into the flesh of two of the men. One of them gets the drop on Hvitserk who is knocked unconscious. When Ivar sees Hvitserk he screams at them, blood dripping from his face. Not his own blood.

A part of her she usually keeps locked away is released as she watches her fearless husband in action. She’s never seen him fight, never seen him violent. Gods the look on his face makes her want to rip his clothes off and fuck him here and now. Her senses return as she sees five of them start to surround him, circling him like sharks sniffing out blood in the water.

As Julietta watches Ivar screaming at them to come at him she knows she has no choice. There is no outcome in this that will end in anything other than the death of her beloved.

She has to expose her secret now or Ivar dies right in front of her eyes. She knows that showing who she really is, was, is signing her own death warrant but it’s that or she watches the love of her life get beaten to death.

No contest.

“Stop!” She screams in Russian. “Enough!”

The use of Russian stops all their feet and all heads in the room fly to her.

She straightens up, shoulder back, head lifted in defiance.

“Do you know who I am?” she asks in English, chin raised haughtily and she glides across the floor to stand coming to stop between Ivar and the men.

This is Etta.

“Julietta? Get behind me. What the fuck are you doing?” Ivar tries to grab her arm but she pulls away gently, eyes still on the men. With her hand behind her back she points to her leg showing Ivar her hitched up dress, showing him the two guns tucked into two leather garter belts. As she shifts her other hand discreetly she shows him a sharp knife tucked behind her arm, the hilt sitting in her hand, all completely concealed from the men.

The air behind her moves as Ivar steps towards her, she keeps her eyes on the men.

“Liet, what is happening?” He whispers.

She ignores him and asks them again, this time in Russian. “I asked you if you know who I am? I am the daughter of Oleg and this is not a fight you want. You are not my fathers men, so who do you work for? I suggest you tell me so I know who to report your deaths to.”

They look back and forth between each other, faces painted with ridiculous confusion.

“Answer me. I asked you a simple question. Are you all to stupid to reply?” She walks slowly, side stepping along the line of men in front of her. Her gaze dragging up and down the men. “Do I need to ask you in English? You don’t understand the mother tongue?” She mocks them, walking slowly in front of them.

Their eyes follow her, mouths agape like the idiots they are.

Julietta stops in front of one of them. “You. Answer me immediately.”

The man fumbles for words. “You are not Olegs daughter. Lying bitch. And you are here with him,” gesturing to Ivar, “the son of Olegs' sworn enemy? Bullshit.”

“Ah so that is your purpose, you have decided to make a name for yourselves but trying to kill my husband and my brother in law because they are my fathers enemies?” She tuts at them, scolding them like children as she glances over at Hvitserk, his chest is moving. Alive.

One moves slightly and she quickly lets the knife slip into her hand and points it at the man. “Uh.” She says quickly. “Do not move to me. That is not a very smart move, not that I expect smart moves from people like you. You want to make names for yourself tonight? My father doesn’t want them dead, you morons,” she spits the words dismissively.

They all look at each other in confusion until one bravely pipes up. “I’m to believe you are Russian mafia royalty? That you are married to him?! You look like nothing more than a whore the disgusting cripple has to pay to be with him.”

She swings her head towards the man speaking, again calling her a whore. She wants nothing more than to press her thumbs into the man’s eyeballs and hear him scream but she gathers her patience and rolls her eyes tutting again. “Well that is not very polite is it? Now, me and my husband are going to walk out of here and you will sit your stupid asses down and be grateful you are getting out with your lives. I love to hurt men like you and will kill if needs be. Do not give me any reason to take it that far. Do not underestimate me.”

She is waiting for their new leader to step up so she knows who to take out first.

“Liet?” Ivar’s confused voice comes from behind her. “Russian?”

“Ivar, my love, I will explain everything. Just not right now.” She looks slowly at him over shoulder. “Be ready baby,” she whispers, eyes flitting down, letting him know to grab the guns stashed on her.

“You are not going anywhere,” one shouts at her in English.

He’s the new leader then.

She replies in English. “It is a shame you have chosen this path. I did not wish to get blood on my pretty gown this evening. And my husband didn’t even get to finish his meal. Terribly inconsiderate of you all,” she drawls sarcastically.

She throws the knife at his throat and it lands exactly where she means it to, straight through his larynx, at the same time she feels Ivar take both guns. She spins to the left and blocks a punch from one, landing a headbutt into his nose, breaking it. She can hear gunshots from behind her and the thud of two falling bodies.

She breaks the leg of the last man standing before her and as he drops to his knees she gets behind him, holding his neck in the crook of her elbow.

“STOP!!” She screams in Russian as she sees an enemy with his gun at the temple of Hvitserk, still unconscious on the floor. She knows Ivar is safe, only one other left and Ivar’s gun is trained on the enemy, whose hands are up in surrender.

Everyone halts.

She addresses the man with the gun on her Hvitserk. “Put it down or your brother gets his neck snapped right here, right now.” The familial genes are evident in their bone structure. She thinks she said it in Russian but Ivar’s eyes flicking from her to his brother know she spoke English by mistake. “Your English is good?” He nods once. “I play no games here. Your brother will die if my husbands brother does. Except your brother will know it, he will feel his heart slow and he will feel his neck snap. Take your gun away from my brother's head and yours will live.” Julietta threatens with absolute resolve.

He hesitates for long enough that she tightens her grip on the neck of the man on his knees, feeling the heat from the trapped blood in his face. His brother debates for less than five seconds before he holds both hands up, the gun rolling on his trigger finger.

She only has to look at her husband to exchange thoughts with no words. She grabs the side of her captives head and wrenches it around until the crunch of bone and sinew fills the air and as she drops the enemy’s lifeless body to the floor Ivar puts bullets in the remaining two enemy brains.

She looks up quickly to find Ivar’s gun pointing straight at her forehead.

“Don’t! Please don’t, Ivar. I can explain! I promise!” Her hands are raised in surrender.

“Who the fuck are you?” his eyes are wild with confusion.

Her face crumbles. “I’m your wife.”

“You are not my wife. Tell me who you are right now or I swear to god, Liet, I will shoot you between the eyes.”

“Please don’t, Ivar. I am your wife. I… I… My father is Oleg.”

Chapter 13

#modern ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #modern vikings #ubbe #modern!ubbe #modern!hvitserk #ivar x oc #ivar vikings #vikings #ivar ragnarsson x ofc #ragnar lothbrok #ivar fanfic #ivar imagine #vikings ivar

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