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geeky-introvert · 3 months ago

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Such a lovely surprise! Worth the wait hehe

Izolda

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings)

Pairing: Hvitserk/OFC

Warnings: Slight thoughts of ma+ure content

Rating: PG13

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: This was a request from @geeky-introvert - I swear I wrote it, but apparently I had a very vivid dream about writing your request. This has been waiting since 2018 or 2019. Oops.

Happy Easter love! Hope you're doing alright. Over the weekend could you do something for our hungry puppy Hvitserk having eyes on Oleg's sister or cousin but she's to be married to another, though neither can help their attraction? Thanks love x

Vikings Master List

Izolda was her name.

Hvitserk watched her from where he sat in the corner. She was stunning, like no other woman he had seen before. She was kind and gentle, yet as fierce as any many man could be. He wanted to sweep her off her feet, to run into the night and never return. Yet, he knew such things were not possible.

Her brother, Oleg, had made certain of that. Promising her to the disgusting Grigor. They had been married last spring, so Hvitserk had been told. He'd not been here then, arriving some time later on a mission to find his brother Ivar.

When he'd arrived, she had taken notice to the stranger from the north, claiming to be the brother of Ivar the Boneless. For two men who shared a bloodline, she couldn't help but notice the glaring differences. Hvitserk, as they called him, was lean, agile, and fair haired. Eyes as green as an emerald, and a calm presence. Ivar on the other hand was broader with hair as dark as his soul, and eyes bluer than ice, his presence like a roaring beast.

Across the hall Hvitserk watched her, her dress a striking deep red, the fabric swirling around her legs whenever she moved across the floor, as if in a dance. Taunting him, beckoning him with desire and lust for what she hid under such a fine garment. Drink to his lips, he took a long swig, the back of his hand wiping the droplets from his mouth. Wishing it had been her that he was wiping from the wisps of facial hair that he tried hard to grow.

What he wasn't aware of was her eyes tracking his every move. Each time he shifted his arm to lift his cup, whenever he would steal glances in her direction. She was a woman after all, she knew when she was being stalked. Shooting a glare across the room, her face turning in disgust when her brother walked in. Her husband by his side, laughing as if they wouldn't strike one another down if given the chance. Grigor wasn't that terrible, he was well off and her family held his in high regard.

Too bad she had been given to him like a prized sow, she'd had no word in the matter. She was to be married, because they needed the fortune and able bodied men that he brought with him. She'd nearly slit Oleg's throat, demanding that he marry Grigor then. Little good it did her.

Ignored by the two men she called family, her eyes landed on the man with the drink once more. His hair braided back from his face, the green tunic he wore had seen better days, and his body slouched.

Hvitserk's head jerked up when she approached, clearing his throat he stood to receive her. “Hvitserk, sit please.” She smiled, her smile like the sun warming his bones.

“Iz-Emporess?” Hvitserk had only spoken to her a handful of times and he was never certain what to call her.

“Izolda. Please.” Her voice was a breath of fresh air in this place. “You are not dancing? Do you not find the women here pleasing?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do. I suppose.” He had never stammered this way around a woman before.

“Hmm, let me guess.” She pointed a finger around the room, making a game, her finger landing on a slender brunette, a bit too gaunt for Hvitserk's taste. “Her?” Hvitserk shook his head,

“No? Hmm,” She pointed to a shorter blonde, a bosom as full as the moon two nights past, her hips were perfectly round and her face cheerful “What about her? She is lovely, I know her.” Hvitserk shook his head once more.

“Oh my, hmm.” She feigned thought, pointing to one more woman in the room, this particular woman was but a reflection in polished glass. Her red dress bunched from where she'd sat on the wooden bench. “Her?” She pointed to her own reflection.

“I, I do not desire any woman here.” Hvitserk lied as cheaply as a peddler with useless goods.

“I do not believe that,” She leaned forward, her hand on his thigh. “I see the way you watch me.”

“Forgive me, but I don't mean...”

“You're forgiven, Hvitserk.” Her voice was soft and low. “I watch you as well, when you are not looking. You are different than most men here.”

“And that is a bad thing?” His eyes caught hers, holding them for a moment, the world feeling as if it was going still.

“No, it is a good thing. You know, I would not shy away from you coming to visit me.” Listening for a hint of teasing in her voice, Hvitserk's brow furrowed when he failed to find it.

“Perhaps I should get to know your husband, Ivar says he and your brother are powerful men.”

“My husband,” her voice was hushed, disappointment filling her, of course he would think that she'd meant as a strategic visit.

“If you wish me to come visit, should he not be the one to extend that?”

“No, I didn't...” She shrugged, her hand still on his thigh under the table. “I meant a private visit, just you and I.”

Hvitserk's attention snapped, turning to face her, he could not believe his ears. Surely this was the work of the gods, tempting and tormenting him. She would not mean it. Would she?

“My husband is a boring man, he does not appreciate my appetite.” Izolda licked her lips, her voice still low yet holding a new flare to her tone. “He is so boring, we have been married this long and yet I am still without a child.”

“My apologises,” Hvitserk offered, his mind was truly playing a trick on him now. “I did not know that you wished for children.”

“I do, don't you?”

“Of course, a son. Or a daughter. Either would make me happy.” A small smile spread across his face at the thought. “I do not have a wife, I am but one man and that does not make a child.”

Izolda appreciated his honesty, most men desired sons and sons alone. Hvitserk's eyes light up brighter than the morning sky when he had mentioned a daughter. Her heart warming at the notion. Such a man wanting a daughter, he truly was something else.

The things she would give to have such a man. A man who valued things such as having a wife, before creating a child. A man who spoke to her as if she were a human with her own thoughts, not a piece of property to breed and order about. She'd sat next to Hvitserk for some time, he was infectious with his stories of growing up with Ivar and his brothers, tales of far off lands, and raids he had taken part in.

When he smiled her heart wanted to burst, when he laughed, she swore it was the sweetest music she could ever hear. Hvitserk was kind, perhaps too kind for a place like this. Izolda sat with wonder in her eyes, hanging on his every word. As his mouth moved, she found herself wondering what it would feel like, taste like, to have his lips on hers - among other places on her body. A deep heat ran through her at the thought. She was married. Despite hating her husband, there had been a ceremony and vows, she had to honour those.

A knot forming in her stomach, she held back the bile in her throat at the thought of having to go back to her husband when this was all over. Never had she felt this way about another human, nor had she expected to feel such things so quickly. Once again, she could sense somebody watching her, this time it wasn't Hvitserk as his gaze felt less threatening, even when he was watching her from the shadows earlier.

“I must go.” Her words were hurried and hushed. “I must return to my husband.”

“Must you?”

Nodding her head, she glanced in the direction of her brother. If she wished for her and Hvitserk to remain alive, yes. “It is...not that easy. I do wish to see you again and I shall, alone away from here. I must return for now.”

Her hand leaving his thigh, Hvitserk felt nearly naked. “I wish you well, Izolda. We shall see one another again.”

Bowing her head, she stood. Hvitserk returned the gesture, his eyes finding her husband. How easily it would be to put an arrow through that man. No, he was a guest and if he wished to remain as such, it was wise to put his best foot forward. As Izolda took her place at her husband's side, Hvitserk watched as she feigned a laugh at what he'd said. Her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes cast down.

A shell of the woman Hvitserk had gotten a glimpse of. How free she had felt at his side. She laughed like honey bees on a summer meadow, her eyes like embers glowing from the winter fires, and her hair like gold from the fields of grains. Hvitserk was stupidly in love with a woman he could never have. He knew better than to fall for such a woman, yet there she was. Never to be his.

tagging: @icefrozendeadlyqueen @velvetvowsandvikingdreams @purplerose291 @alicedopey

#vikings

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