heathenarmyimagines

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: (Y/N) was right.

Pairing:Not Telling

Part One

Part Two

Ivar’s morning was just as shitty as his night had been.

Getting to the restaurant to pick up Maggie and her friend Freydis was easy enough, the real problem started after Freydis had been dropped off and Margrethe was apparently drunker than she had realized.

Four minutes away from her condo Margrethe began throwing up in his passenger seat, he had tried to pull over to let her finish on the side of the road but before he could she had turned his way and…

Ivar sighed for what must have been the millionth time in the last six hours as he waited on his clothes to finish drying while Margrethe slept on her couch.

He looked at his phone and winced at the time, not that he needed to, the sun was already rising and he could hear morning birds when he had stepped out of the shower.

Ivar was exhausted, he had been celebrating a good merger deal last night, his new business partner Heahmund enjoyed drinking after signing papers. Of course Ivar didn’t get sloppy drunk, he had more sense than that, but he was ready to go to sleep when he first got home and found (Y/N) waiting for him with divorce papers in hand.

That along with the hours that passed before he picked her up from her parents’ house had sobered him up completely, but he was dead tired at this point.

At long last the dryer sung its little song and he hurriedly took his clothes and got dressed in the bathroom. He made sure to lock Maggie’s door before he got back into his still rancid smelling car.

He drove the whole way home with the windows down and trying to avoid looking at the sickness that was still in his seat and on his dashboard. When he finally made it to his own house Ivar could already feel his body sinking into his mattress.

Finally he opened the door and stepped into the peace and quiet, and that was when he knew he was finished. He could not fathom getting back into his foul smelling car again and driving the forty minutes it would take to get to Floki’s private hospital.

“We won’t.”

Ivar could remember the certainty in her tone when she said it and he remembered wanting to prove her wrong, but he had to admit defeat.

(Y/N) had been right.

In shame Ivar walked up the stairs to their bedroom and he found it empty. He paused in confusion before he remembered her saying she would sleep in the guest room, without a second thought he made his way down the hall. He needed to at least explain that they were still going to see Floki, it would just be later in the day, but to his surprise the door was locked.

Just to be sure it wasn’t his tiredness getting the best of him, Ivar tried turning the knob again but he hadn’t been mistaken.

She had locked him out.

Ivar didn’t know why but that upset him, in a deeper and darker part of his mind he knew that it hurt him too, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself yet. So he focused on the upset, the indignation of being locked out of any room in his house.

‘You know what (Y/N)? Fine! If you want to throw this kind of fit instead of fucking talking to me then fine! I’m going to bed, no point in wasting my time on you.’ he spat before returning to the master bedroom.

For good measure he slammed the door as hard and as loud as he could without breaking it; he hoped the sound would disturb her if she was sleeping, but he did not lock it.

Angrily he undressed and climbed into bed, but despite how tired he was, his sleep was not peaceful.

Ivar tossed and turned in his sleep; his dreams filled with images he wanted to turn away from. A giant folder that contained divorce papers, (Y/N) looking lifeless and still as she sat beside him in the car holding an empty pill bottle, her sleeping peacefully in a faceless man’s arms.

By the time he finally woke up he was soaked in sweat and practically seething with anger. He looked at the alarm clock and was unimpressed to find that it was nearly two thirty in the afternoon.

He paused for a moment to see if he could hear any sounds that told him (Y/N) was awake.

The house was dead silent.

He remembered her saying that she was going out with her family for lunch today, and Ivar was certain he wouldn’t be welcome to join.

“And my sister is taking me out clubbing.”

This time Ivar’s sigh devolved into a frustrated growl as he got out of the bed and headed into the bathroom to shower.

He tried to take comfort in being in his own bathroom and being able to finally fully wash away last night; especially after the rushed uncomfortably cold quick shower he took at Maggie’s place.

But even as the hot water washed over his stiff shoulders Ivar was restlessly wondering where (Y/N) was.

Once he was fully dressed in casual jeans Ivar grabbed his phone and found no text from his wife.

He called her number… she rejected the call.

Ivar stared at the phone in disbelief, she had never ignored his call, he couldn’t even recall ever hearing the phone ring more than once before she answered. He called four more times and got the same results each time until the fifth call was answered.

‘Fuck you Bum-In-Law! Stop calling, we're shopping and if you call again I’ll block your number in her phone. Leave us alone, sign the papers.’ (Y/S/N) hissed quietly and harshly before hanging up in his face.

This time Ivar stared at his phone like it had transformed into a bomb in his hand.

(Y/N)’s younger sister was a travel blogger and was rarely ever in the country so Ivar had only interacted with her a few times over the years, but he never expected her to talk to him that way.

She was of course not friendly with him by any means; same as her parents, but she had been cordial if not a little cold with him.

Bum-In-Law? Is that what his wife was calling him to her family?

He scoffed in outright annoyance before he finally went downstairs to make himself something to eat.

The first thing Ivar noticed when he made it to the kitchen was how clean it was. The countertop was wiped spotless, appliances in pristine condition, sink empty and dishes put away neatly in the cabinets.

Ivar took a closer look while he made himself a sandwich and discovered the sink was bone dry and no plates were in the drying rack.

She didn’t eat this morning.

How often did he see (Y/N) eating when they were home? Of course he didn’t spend his time watching her closely enough to know her food preferences, but had he ever seen her comfortably eating ever?

As he ate he sent a text to Margrethe.

Ivar: Clear my schedule for this week, no meetings, no presentations, nothing. Tell Ubbe to take care of things while I’m gone.

Maggie: Is this about (Y/N)? Do you really need a week to handle a tantrum?

Ivar read the message and his cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Ivar: I need to take her to see Floki and get this divorce nonsense out of her head. I’ll be back when I’m done, I was giving you a generous time frame.

Maggie: I just don’t think now is the time to step away from work, the Essex Project isn’t secured.

Ivar: Send the files to my personal email, no meetings Margrethe I mean it.

Maggie: Understood, and sorry about last night, the mechanic has already picked up the car and it’s being cleaned.

Ivar looked out the kitchen window and found only (Y/N)’s car in the driveway.

Just as he accepted the fact that he had no option but to wait until she came home for once (Y/N) came in alongside her younger sister. Ivar abandoned his plate and went to meet them in the living room but what he saw stunned him as he stood in the kitchen doorway. Both of them were giggling and snickering as they struggled under the weight of the shopping bags in their arms.

Ivar watched in astonishment as (Y/N), too distracted by laughing at whatever her sister had said before they came in, tripped over her own feet and stumbled.

Instinctively Ivar was about to rush to her side to see if she was hurt, but she found her balance and laughed harder.

‘You good?’ (Y/S/N) asked in amusement as they approached the stairs.

‘Gravity won’t defeat me on this day.’ (Y/N) replied dramatically.

‘Hope you feel that way six shots deep into the night. Come on this shit is heavy and we gotta get you ready.’

‘It won’t take four hours to get ready.’ his wife argued as the two sisters headed upstairs without seeming to even notice him there.

Ivar stood there listening to their sisterly banter from upstairs and came to three conclusions.

He had never heard his wife laugh or tell a joke to him, (Y/N) had never invited company to their house before, and he never took her anywhere other than work events.

Upstairs the two sisters were still audibly laughing and teasing each other joyfully. After realizing that he was quite literally eavesdropping in his own house, Ivar made his own way upstairs.

‘This is the one… I think? Do you think it looks okay, I mean?’ he heard (Y/N) ask uncertainly as he entered the guest room.

(Y/N) was standing by the open closet wearing a simple black short tube dress with a small slit at the bottom.

It did look very good on her, he couldn’t take his eyes away from her legs, the slit in the dress left just enough up the imagination to be enticing. It fit her perfectly, hugging her curves snugly and when he finally looked up past her legs he saw how well the dress showed off her breast.

‘Where do you think you are wearing that?’ Ivar asked as he took in the dress.

‘Whose sister are you talking to? Because it’s not mine, and who even asked your opinion?’ (Y/S/N) asked rudely as she stood up from her seat on the bed.

The younger woman placed herself between the married couple and faced him with an expression she must have learned from their mother.

‘Didn’t know I needed permission to speak to my wife.’

‘You don’t, but you need it to speak to my sister. Are you his wife or my sister right now (Y/N)?’

‘Womb to tomb sisters…he’s just some guy I married for some business thing.’ (Y/N) said before she turned back to the shopping bags that were covering the bed.

‘Well you heard it live, now if you don’t mind; a little privacy?’ (Y/S/N) smugly.

‘Excuse me?’ Ivar questioned.

‘You are excused, please go. We are trying to get ready and anyone who doesn’t think she’s killing it in that dress doesn’t have a valid fashion opinion.’

Ivar looked to (Y/N), who was still sorting through the bags, finally stopping when she pulled out a silver necklace.

‘Silver jewelry with a black slutty dress, and you say I have no fashion sense? Maybe you should you remind your sister that we can afford gold and custom designer, if you’re going out at least dress well.’ Ivar said spitefully.

For a second he saw her look down questioningly at herself and she picked at the hem of the dress.

‘Just this once, literally please?’ (Y/S/N) asked, her fists clenched at her sides as she looked ready to outright hit him.

(Y/N) stopped picking at the dress and wiped her palms against the fabric before she took a deep breath.

‘No…I got it this time.’ (Y/N) said, stepping forward to stand between him and her sister.

Ivar watched in awe as his wife approached him with the same fire in her eyes as her sister and mother.

‘I like this dress, I think that designer junk is too flashy, and gold is tacky. Silver is elegant and compliments the color of my oh so simple dress. And if you think it’s slutty then fine.’ (Y/N) said coldly as she continued to descend upon him.

She was getting so close and looked so angry that he found himself backing out of the room.

‘I hope the guys at the club agree with you.’ she said before slamming the door in his face.

He heard the lock click with finality.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Anymore? No, Less

Summary: Ubbe wants to give his marriage a chance, but does his wife agree?

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Ubbe woke up Sunday morning, naked, alone and slightly hungover.

His eyes burned under the sunlight coming in through the window, his head throbbing as he sat up groaning.

Ubbe took a minute to get out of the bed and grabbed an aspirin from the bathroom cabinet, taking it dry in his urgency for relief.

It was only after he had splashed some cold water on his face that he wondered where exactly his wife was this morning. The clock told him it was two in the afternoon, on Sundays she usually cleaned up or did the chores, but he didn’t hear any movement in the house.

He went back into the bedroom to call her, only to find a note sitting on top of his phone in (Y/N)’s handwriting.

Meeting with my divorce lawyer, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the last two weeks.

Divorce lawyer? She was already making the preparations?

Ubbe grabbed his phone and dialed her as quickly as he could, not realizing that this was the first time he had ever called her first.

The phone rang a few times before she finally picked up.

‘Hello?’ (Y/N) asked, her tone questioning and confused.

‘You’re meeting with a divorce lawyer?’ he asked directly.

‘Well I was, I’m having lunch with a friend right now. Did you need something Ubbe?’

‘Yeah, an actual conversation with you about this divorce nonsense.’ Ubbe snapped back as his panic became frustration.

‘Nonsense? Ubbe, the plan was always to end it, I signed for five years and I did my time.’ (Y/N) argued.

‘Did your ti- ?! I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’ Ubbe said, quickly checking his tone.

‘You don’t even know where I am.’ she said incredulously.

‘There are trackers on every car owned in my family, don’t act like you don’t know the kind of wealth my family has. Wait for me.’ Ubbe said firmly before hanging up.

He grabbed the first outfit he saw hanging in his closet and threw the clothes on as quickly as he could while tracking (Y/N)’s personal car.

In his rush to get to his car Ubbe, struggling to put on his socks as he did so, nearly fell down the damn stairs.

For better or worse he did manage to get into the driver seat in one piece, closing the door just as he got the address.

She was at a Bar and Grill that was just around the corner.

Ubbe knew it was unnecessary and stupid, but he sped there just the same, parking next to her car.

(Y/N) was sitting at a table on the patio, she was sitting with another woman that Ubbe could only vaguely remember seeing at a few events over the years.

The two women seemed to be laughing over some drinks, (Y/N) was smiling brighter than she ever had in front of him. Her smile reached her eyes as the sunlight reflected in her (Y/E/C) pupils.

When he got out of the car he saw (Y/N) spot him in the parking lot, and he watched her smile fall.

As he walked toward the table he heard the words (Y/N)’s visibly drunk friend failed to whisper.

‘First and last chance to formally meet him.’ she said, grinning dumbly as she watched him approach their table.

‘Ubbe, this is Mallory, my best friend.’ (Y/N) introduced.

‘I was the maid of honor at your wedding, nice to finally meet you properly. You were a bit…preoccupied during the reception.’ Mallory said teasingly as looked over him.

Ubbe looked away in what he didn’t want to admit was shame; he had been seen sneaking into a janitor's closet with the wedding planner right before the reception began. He had made no attempt at being discreet either, when he finally did join the celebration he could hear the guests whispering and laughing.

At the time it felt like a good laugh, an outrageously ridiculous thing he would do as a high schooler. Now he was remembering how angry (Y/N)’s parent’s had been, how her eyes were watering as they finished their first dance and how quickly she ran from the ballroom when the song ended.

‘Yeah…do you mind giving us a moment to talk alone?’ he asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say to this woman’s criticism.

‘No.’ Mallory said quickly.

‘It’s fine Mal, your Uber is here now anyway. Besides I kind of have to talk to him, get things in order now so we can be ready for the Big Day.’ (Y/N) appeased, helping her friend stand and gather her things.

‘I’ll help her to the car, can you watch my things?’ his wife asked as she already began dragging Mallory away.

‘Don’t marry himmm~’ Mallory whined drunkenly as she was carried off.

Ubbe sat at the table and glanced around to make sure no one was staring at him like he was the worst husband they’d ever overheard two women talk about, of course no one was looking but he still felt his ears burning red.

‘She should make it home fine, I told her husband to expect a hot mess at his doorstep.’ (Y/N) said casually as she sat back down, picking up her margarita.

‘(Y/N) can you stop.’ Ubbe aske, desperately.

‘Stop what?’ she asked in what looked like genuine confusion.

‘This. Acting like you are talking about changing a flat tire and not ending a damn marriage. Did your time? The Big Day? Are you kidding me?’ he clarified, unable to hide his frustration.

‘I’m the one treating this marriage like a flat tire? Are you kidding me? So I haven’t done every possible thing to fix this fucked up tire? Is that it?’ (Y/N) her attitude visibly darkening.

‘I’m not sayi-’

‘What are you saying then? What exactly is your problem right now Ubbe? Is it my tone? Is it too harsh? How about this one?’ she fired off before she softened her angry face completely.

‘It’s fine, Ubbe, I won’t leave. You can keep seeing the other women, humiliating me and I’ll just spend another night alone wondering why I’m still not enough.’ she said in a tone that was so sweet it dripped honey.

This was the woman he had been married to for five years, this was the tone of voice he always drowned out and ignored. The woman that did what was expected of a wife, the woman that Ubbe always thought was in love with him.

It made Ubbe feel like his head was spinning, because that was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, but the look in her eyes told him the truth. Every word she said was a lie.

The sweet voice was a lie, all the words, lies, five years of loving him…a lie. The woman he married was a lie; whoever she was when she looked at him now, with all that indifference, that’s who (Y/N) really was.

When Ubbe couldn’t respond to her (Y/N) dropped the act and went back to her drink.

‘You know, my parents were arranged too. Someway, somehow, they love each other; I mean they really love each other. When they asked me if I was open to this agreement, I just knew I could love anyone I chose to love, then I married you Ubbe.’ (Y/N) said bitterly before she began drinking again.

‘God I thought I could love you, I tried so hard. No matter how despicable you were, and you were despicable, I still tried. I tried to make you love me. Embarrassed myself trying to appeal to you, slaved myself trying to be the good wife you’d want to talk about during a speech the way my dad would for mom.’

‘I could do that, I could have been doing all that husband stuff for you, if you told me you wanted me to.’ Ubbe said.

‘I tried telling you, you said you didn’t like my nagging voice. So I was quiet for you; I’d go days without speaking at all. You didn’t want to be seen out with me, so I stopped going out. Instead I cooked and waited for you; left love notes that you crumbled and threw away.’ (Y/N) replied.

‘I know that I’ve never been good to you before, but give me a chance to finally try.’ he begged.

‘A chance to do what? Husband stuff? You don’t even know what that means. You’ve never put any effort into our marriage so I picked up your slack, because I signed a contract. Because my family needed the support at the time, and I don’t break deals.’ (Y/N) said coldly before she finished her drink.

She sat down the glass and fixed her hardened eyes on Ubbe’s, the sternness of her gaze made him hold his breath.

‘So yes, I did my time, and I do think of our Anniversary as the Big Day that I finally get to be free of you Ubbe. I’m ready to have my own life again, I miss going out with my friends and having fun without having to worry about “embarrassing your family image”.’ she said with air quotes and a scoff.

She was looking at him with outright disdain now, a look he’d never seen on her face until today.

‘I don’t know why we are even talking about this right now. Isn’t this what you wanted too? To get me out of your face forever so you can go back to the bachelor life you love so much?’

‘I don’t want to divorce you.’ Ubbe said desperately.

He didn’t know what else to say, because nothing she said could be argued or denied. Ubbe knew he had been a nightmare for five years.

‘I know I have been…difficult to live with, but you have never held it against me before. You’re right you have been a good wife to me, better than I deserved; I realize that now and I will spend everyday making up for the way I treated you. Just let me show you I can be as good a husband.’ he pleaded openly.

She looked at him in stunned shock for a split second before an honest to God laugh burst out of her mouth. Her laughter was so thunderous a few other tables stopped to see where the noise was coming from.

‘Aha ha I can’t- I can’t even tell you how late this is!’ she all but cackled as she tried to compose herself.

‘It’s not too late, I have two weeks before the contract expires.’ Ubbe argued.

‘Well, my advice is to not waste your time; you can’t make up five years of disrespect in two weeks. Even if you could, any feelings I could have had for you died a long time ago; so business as usual until we get the papers.’ (Y/N) dismissed.

Again Ubbe tried to argue that he could earn her forgiveness, but he was interrupted by a familiar shrill voice.

‘Ubbe Baby!’

The married couple turned and saw a blonde woman wearing a tight black dress with silver accessories and red bottom heels approached their table.

‘Who knew I’d see you today?’ the newcomer smiled brightly as she placed her hands on Ubbe’s shoulder in a very familiar way.

‘Margrethe.’ (Y/N) greeted in such obvious annoyance.

Margrethe was one of the many women Ubbe had been with, in fact she was one of his most reliable mistresses. They had met when she had transferred to his highschool in their junior year; she was his first and Ubbe had been casually enjoying her ever since.

Now she was a B List beauty influencer with her own line of skin care products, invested in by Ubbe’s family business.

The blonde looked over at (Y/N) as if she was only noticing her now.

‘Oh! Mrs. Ragnarson, I didn’t even see you there!’ Margrethe smiled sweetly.

‘Clearly.’ (Y/N) smiled, looking at the way Margrethe’s hands were still roaming over Ubbe’s shoulders lazily.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting.’

‘For once you’re not; I was just leaving. Enjoy my husband.’ (Y/N) said formally as she stood and grabbed her bag.

‘(Y/N), wait!’

Ubbe stood as well, catching his wife by the arm; just as he had the night before, and she snatched away from him just the same.

‘Don’t touch me.’ (Y/N) hissed venomously enough to make him inwardly recoil.

Margrethe looked between the couple, wondering what was going on exactly. All she knew was that Ubbe had been her meal ticket since high school and the only reason Ubbe didn’t end up being her husband is because his bitch mother deemed her family too low class to join the Ragnarsons.

She hated (Y/N) deeply and it brought her sick satisfaction to watch Ubbe discard his homely wife in favor of a wild night out with her instead. How many nights had she laid naked beside him while pondering what his ball and chain would cook him that night?

But why was Ubbe out with her right now? Why was he pleading with her to stay? Margrethe thought and the only thing she could come up with is that (Y/N) must be holding something over him. If that was the case, she could help Ubbe get whatever he needed and once that was done he would owe her.

With that misguided plan in mind, Margrethe also moved to take hold of (Y/N)’s hand in a familiar and friendly way.

‘Don’t leave on my account, you and Ubbe seemed to be in the middle of a very important conversation.’

‘Why is what I talk about with my husband any concern of yours?’ (Y/N) said rudely as she again snatched away her hand.

‘Oh, please don’t misuderst-’ the blonde tried, but (Y/N) interrupted her lie.

‘There is no misunderstanding between any of us here. Ubbe is my husband, you are sleeping with him and you already know that I know. You have been flaunting it as boldly as he will allow you to since I married him, I just don’t feel like doing the fake pleasantries anymore. So again, I’ll be leaving now, enjoy my husband. God knows I haven’t, so someone should.’ she snapped before she left the patio seating area.

‘(Y/N)!’ Ubbe called after her but she didn’t stop, or even acknowledge him at all.

He watched in defeated frustration as (Y/N) got into her car and drove away.

‘Dammit! Margrethe, why are you here?!’ he snarled, turning on the blonde, hardly able to keep his voice down.

His tone was so harsh and angry that Margrethe flinched at his question; in all their years sleeping together he had never once raised his voice at her.

‘I-I was just picking up my lunch order, I was waiting when I saw you. Why are you yelling at me?’ she asked, in her smallest, most shy voice.

The one Uber could never resist falling for.

Ubbe took a deep breath before he spoke again, this time much more composed.

‘I’m sorry for shouting. I need to get home and talk to (Y/N).’ he apologized as he tried to leave.

Margrethe stopped him, taking his hand in hers gently.

‘What is wrong? You never go out with her, is she blackmailing you?’ Margrethe asked.

‘Blackmail, what are you talking about? She’s trying to divorce me and I-’

‘Isn’t that good, we can go back to doing what we want in the open again. I’m tired of only seeing you in hotel rooms, I want to break in your mattress for a change.’ Margrethe flirted.

For a split second, Ubbe thought about how he would have responded yesterday. He would have agreed, he’d take her home and say something to (Y/N) about having a private conversation.

The amount of shame he felt was enough to make him sick.

‘I don’t want to divorce her, and I don’t have time for you anymore.’ Ubbe said quickly before he too left the patio.

Margrethe was left standing there, eyes wide and jaw dropped in shock.

No time for me?! Have you lost your mind Ubbe? I’ll remind you and that bitch wife of yours who your heart belongs to, the blonde seethed internally as she watched Ubbe drive away.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Anymore? No, Less

Summary: Ubbe never wanted a contract marriage, but he didn't want to get a divorce either.

Pairing: Not telling

Ubbe came home at the beginning of sunrise, the way he did most weekends. Drunk, tired and well satisfied by his mistress.

He opened the front door, expecting the same sight he’d been coming home to for five years. His wife asleep on the couch and his home cooked meal wrapped in foil on the table.

To his surprise, however, the couch was empty, as was the table. He squinted in confusion and looked in the kitchen, but he found both the fridge and microwave also devoid of his meal.

He shook his head, trying to shake away the drunkenness enough to focus.

‘(Y/N).’ Ubbe called, voice echoing through the house.

No answer came.

What the hell, it was nearly five in the morning. Where was she?

He began looking around the house but every room downstairs was empty, so he made his way upstairs to check the bedroom.

This time he did find her, in bed apparently sleeping peacefully.

Ubbe made his way over to her side of the bed and pulled the comforter off of her roughly, making the poor woman jump awake.

‘Where is dinner?’ he asked rudely.

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily as she sat up and faced him.

‘I already ate, and we both know someone fed you last night; it is morning though so I assume you’re hungry again. Guess I could start on breakfast if you’re just starving right now.’ she said in annoyance as she got out of bed.

Ubbe was stunned by her tone, in all their years she had never spoken to him with such indifference.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he asked as she walked past him to leave the room.

‘A mad man wants breakfast, and I’m the unfortunate soul who calls that man husband.’ she mumbled as she went downstairs.

Ubbe hadn’t heard her but still he’d followed after her.

‘And what do you mean we both know someone fed me?’ he asked in slight panic.

‘I don’t know her name, or their names if you have multiple. I just know that cooking for two is wasteful when you rarely come home to eat and leave food out most nights when you do.’ (Y/N) said in the same casual tone as before.

‘W-What are you talking about?’ Ubbe asked in surprise.

‘Five years. Five unconsummated years of throwing out the food you don’t eat, and washing the lipstick and perfume off your clothes. I’m stupid for ignoring it, but I’m not blind.’ she shrugged as she moved around the kitchen.

Ubbe sighed in defeat, he had thought he’d been careful with his infidelity. She never asked him about it before, so why now?

‘Scrambled or sunny side up?’ she asked, turning back to her task.

‘I don’t need to remind you, this was an-‘ Ubbe began to argue.

‘Arranged marriage, a contract, a silly piece of paper you signed for your inheritance? I know, that’s why I didn’t say anything before, I don’t need another hour long lecture on how you don’t owe me anything.’ (Y/N) interrupted as she scrambled the eggs.

She continued preparing breakfast; putting the bacon in the oven and toast in the toaster, all the while her husband watched her in dismay.

Ubbe felt like his brain was short circuiting.

He wanted to deny and defend his cheating, scold his wife for being confrontational and beg for her forgiveness all at once; but of course he couldn’t do all that.

‘If you know then why are we talking about it now? Why not say something before?’ he asked in defeat as he sat at the table with his head in his hands.

‘Why would I? Would it have made a difference then? Would you have stopped?’ she chuckled to herself as she scrambled the eggs.

Ubbe again stayed silent, they both knew he would have dismissed her protests. That's what he did when she asked him for anything; it’s what he did whenever she spoke.

‘If you must know why I’m saying something now, it's because there is finally a light at the end of this dark tunnel I’ve called my marriage.’ she continued.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked in confusion.

‘The five years are almost up, Ubbe. We can both finally go our separate ways after our anniversary in two weeks.’ (Y/N) said, and this time he could hear her smile in her tone.

Ubbe was shocked to hear (Y/N) speak about their contract so openly, she never did before today. In fact Ubbe was surprised he hadn’t realized how soon their arrangement would be ending.

‘Of course I will continue to fulfill my end of things, but I no longer have to wait on you to treat me like your wife.’ (Y/N) said as she placed a plate of breakfast in front of him.

She turned to leave the kitchen but before she could Ubbe had stood up and taken a firm hold of her arm to stop her.

‘You don’t think I treat you like a wife? Is that what this little attitude of yours is about tonight? Is that what you want?’ he asked smugly.

If that’s all she wanted he could satisfy her, he knew that much.

Again (Y/N) surprised him, this time by snatching her arm away harshly, as if his touch disgusted her.

‘There is no attitude, Ubbe, and no; I don’t want anything from you anymore.’ she said calmly before she successfully left the room.

It was in the emptiness of the kitchen that Ubbe realized what exactly she had said.

Anymore.

Had she ever wanted him in that way?

He tried to recall the beginning of their marriage when he still had to tell her not to expect him to change his ways for her. That he did not want to be bothered by her, that he wouldn’t check in on her and he did not want her embarrassing him in public.

Back then (Y/N) would back away with her head low, but she would still leave a note hoping he enjoyed his meal whenever he did come home.

She would try to dress nicely throughout the day, and she tried to show him affection outside of public events. He rejected her touch and ignored her fashion sense, he barely noticed when her wardrobe became sweatpants exclusively in the house.

Now that he really thought about it, Ubbe couldn’t remember the last time she had even asked about going out, or attending any event that wasn’t mandatory. Even when she did attend he had his assistant pick out her dress and accessories, and when was the last time she’d tried taking hold of his arm. When did the little notes stop being written?

He couldn’t remember.

With an irritated mood he sat back down to eat the breakfast she had cooked; thinking it best to give himself time to sober up and figure out what he should do next.

As he ate, he thought about the five year contract, it had been five years already. It felt absurd to even think about, it didn’t feel like so much time had passed.

Probably because he didn’t change, his routine was the same. He had to imagine that (Y/N) felt every second of the last five years, why else would she be so eager to divorce him now?

Soon his plate was empty and his lingering appetite was satisfied, he had no other rational reason to not be in his bed.

Except that it would mean sleeping beside his wife, the wife that he now knew didn’t want to be there beside him.

Then he recalled her begging for his attention and her visible anger at his blatant disloyalty. The way her body stiffened when another woman would flirt with him in front of her. Why would she be upset if she did not care?

He made his way back up to the room and again he found his wife asleep.

Her snores were soft and the light from the barely rising sun shone onto her sleeping figure.

Of course Ubbe could see his wife was an attractive woman, she had to be in order to even be considered for the proposal. However, he never truly appreciated it, never considered her in that way.

The way a husband should consider his wife.

He took off his clothes from his night out and headed into the bathroom to shower. While the hot water poured over him his mind was stuck on the idea of actually divorcing (Y/N).

Not having her at home waiting on him with a meal, not hearing her moving around the house when he rested on the couch.

Her being with another man after she leaves him.

That horrible thought made him cut his shower short.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way back into the room in an unnecessary rush.

(Y/N) had turned to face his side of the bed in her sleep, her hand resting where his head would be if he were laying beside her.

As if she were caressing his face in her dreams.

He slid into the bed, letting his towel fall to the floor as he did so; he rested his cheek on top of her hand.

Her face scrunched in sleepy annoyance as the disturbance and she turned away from him, taking the warmth of her hand away.

Ubbe felt the slightest sting of rejection as he looked at her back facing him, but he ignored the feeling and moved closer to her again. This time he settled behind her, draping his arm over her waist, holding her for the first time.

She made another sleepy noise as she felt his cold and still wet skin press against her, but then she sighed back into her dreams.

Ubbe watched her sleep in his arms and imagined what would’ve happened if he had done this five years ago; he imagined holding her forever.

He couldn’t say he loved her, or even liked her; he did not know the woman in his arms. All he knew for sure was he didn’t want to divorce her.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar needs to track his wife and save his marriage.

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Ivar had been in an absolute rage since (Y/N) left the house. The worst thing was that she had been in such a hurry to get away from him that she had left her phone on the charger, so he couldn’t even call her.

He couldn’t track her, all he could do was call his own private investigator and hope his outrageous price was enough to motivate the man to work hard and fast.

Even still, with every minute that passed his anger was growing. He paced in his bedroom restlessly as he waited for his phone to ring, but it was as silent as prayers.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Ivar nearly broke his neck, turning to (Y/N)’s phone as it chimed on the floor by the bed.

He picked it up and saw it wasn’t a phone call, but an alarm going off.

6:30AM Antidepressants for breakfast :(

Ivar read the name of the alarm five times before he turned it off, when he did he saw even more oddly named alarms that weren't turned on.

7:30AM Online Therapy

12:30AM Eat or you will starve

5:00PM Cook Ivar’s Dinner

7:00PM Throw Away Ivar’s Dinner

8:00PM Antidepressants for Dinner

10:00PM Burn Book Entry

What the hell was this, Ivar thought as he read them over again and again.

Antidepressants?

He ran to the master bathroom and opened (Y/N)’s medicine cabinet, sure enough there were prescription pill bottles. They were right in front, but Ivar had never noticed them before, he never paid attention before.

He took a picture of the bottles and sent them to his family’s private doctor and called the old man as well.

‘Yes, Master Ivar? Is there an emergency with your wife?’ the old doctor asked groggily.

‘What are these medications you have been giving (Y/N) behind my back, Floki?’ Ivar accused.

‘I didn’t do anything behind your back; I get paid to treat members of your family. It's not my fault you forgot to treat your wife like she was family now.’ Floki yawned on the other end.

‘Excuse me?’ Ivar asked, anger rising again.

‘Don’t act like I just told you fire is cold boy, you haven’t paid the poor girl a speck of attention. The fact that I’m only getting this call after all these years treating her is proof enough.’ Floki said bluntly.

Ivar’s ears were burning in shame and anger, the same way they did when he was a child getting scolded.

‘What are these medications?’ Ivar asked again.

‘Antidepressant, Mood stabilizer and an Appetite stimulant. Ivar, your wife has developed severe depression over the last two years, the first two she’s been taking for a while, they cause loss of appetite so the stimulants are new since she has been losing weight too rapidly recently.’ the doctor explained.

‘Why am I just hearing about this?’

‘I can only give information I’m asked for, why are you just now asking? Is (Y/N) well?’

Ivar bit his lip angrily before explaining he wanted his wife’s full medical history in his email at once.

Before Floki could reply Ivar ended the call and went back to looking at the pill bottles in wonder and disgust.

He had been given a summary of (Y/N)’s health before he’d chosen her to be his wife, and while he didn’t remember things like her date of birth, he would have recalled if she had been diagnosed before the wedding.

Was being married to him so horrible it impacted her health so severely?

Ivar picked up her phone again, taking in the lock screen, a picture of her and her parents on a balcony. She stood between them, arms over their shoulders and a wide smile across her face.

Her phone didn’t have a lock code so Ivar didn’t feel too bad when he sat on the bed and began snooping. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for really, but he was sure he’d find something of value.

Preferably, he’d find a clue about where she would go so late.

Ivar started with the messages and was surprised at how few conversations there were to see; she spoke mostly to her parents, and there were other short exchanges between his family members and staff.

He opened the messages between (Y/N) and her mother, they seemed to talk at least once a week.

Mom: Are you eating?

(Y/N): At least one full meal and a vitamin in the morning.

Mom: That isn’t enough, call me right now!

It was at that moment that Ivar realized that she could only have gone to her parents house a few blocks away.

He clicked on her conversation with himself and was disgusted by what he saw, of course these messages were on his own phone but he never looked at them like this. Like he was looking for a warning sign that (Y/N) wanted a divorce.

(Y/N): I made pasta, and I tried a new recipe this time.

Ivar: K

(Y/N): I left your plate in the fridge

Ivar: I have a dinner reservation with Maggie

(Y/N): I understand

Ivar: We have a Gala tomorrow, don’t embarrass me

(Y/N): I will wear what Margrethe sends me.

Ivar set the phone aside and rubbed his face tiredly.

Even to himself he sounded like a dick in those messages; ignoring her, demanding things of her, talking down to her. Ivar could remember typing these responses, just a quick few taps on his phone to convey a message while he walked around his office building. He never liked texting so he always kept things brief, but he usually put in an effort to be civil in messages.

Why hadn’t he taken the time to read these before he sent them, Ivar thought to himself; because he shouldn’t have to. (Y/N) was already his wife, there shouldn’t need to be discomfort, she should be able to understand him.

(Y/N) was the one keeping secrets and plotting to divorce him. He shouldn’t have to grab his keys and rush over to her parents’ house, but he does it all the same.

Ivar parked in their humble driveway and stared at the house in defiance.

Ivar quickly reminded himself who he was, a wealthy man picking up his wife after she threw a dramatic tantrum. He wasn’t here to apologize or explain himself, if anything (Y/N) should be the one explaining why she waited so long to inform him about her diagnosis.

She was the one keeping secrets in their marriage.

With that in mind he got out and approached the door to knock but it opened before he even made it to the porch.

‘You are not welcome here!’ his mother in law shouted as she stormed out into the night to meet him face to face.

She had fire in her eyes and her fists were balled as she advanced on him, making Ivar immediately freeze in place.

‘You sign those papers and you leave my girl the fuck alone, do you hear me Ragnarson?’ she said angrily, poking Ivar hard in the chest.

Ivar looked worse off than a deer in headlights, a more appropriate comparison would be a fish in a barrel.

Of course he hadn’t seen his in-laws since the rushed wedding, but this mad woman had looked happy enough to marry (Y/N) off to him then. So why is she giving him such a disgusted look now?

‘I-I came to pick up (Y/N).’ he managed to say.

‘Absolutely not! My daughter will not be going anywhere with you. She is going to stay here, her eyes shouldn’t land on you outside of a courthouse! Honestly, what were we thinking when we accepted your mother’s proposal?’ the woman scoffed.

‘Honey!’

This time it was his father in law coming out of the house, immediately taking the place beside his wife.

Ivar watched the older couple communicate silently, him sending her a look that made her take a deep breath.

‘Ivar, my wife has made our decision more than clear. Even still; I will apologize for her unprofessional language.’ Mr. (Y/L/N) said stiffly in a formal tone.

Unprofessional? These were his in-laws, sure it was attached to a business deal, but nonetheless these were supposed to be his extended family members. From what he’s heard from other men in the office, his mother in law was probably never going to like him; but he felt the formal tone wasn’t necessary.

‘(Y/D/N), I’m here to pick up my wife.’ Ivar said again, standing up straighter. If he was going to be spoken to like a random business partner then he’d return the courtesy.

‘I’m sorry, but you will not be doing that.’ the old man said firmly.

Ivar knew what this was, it was his favorite thing in the world.

A challenge.

Ivar knew what it was when he suddenly felt the power struggle between himself and (Y/N)’s father.

‘Won’t I? Sir?’ Ivar asked smugly.

‘You won’t. My daughter has already told us that she’s asking for a divorce, and quite frankly I believe it is about time.’ (Y/D/N) said plainly.

‘Past time, you’re lucky she stayed for as long as she did.’ the mother added in.

Ivar looked away for a split second, unable to face the righteous tone of his father in law, before he put his mask back up.

‘Excuse me? I’d hate to leave here alone and cancel all our existing contacts.’ Ivar challenged.

‘We had a very beneficial business partnership for a few years, but my daughter is more important. Cancel whatever you like, I can build another company.’

‘Leave the contracts.’

This time all three of them turned and saw (Y/N) coming out of the house. Her eyes were puffy from crying but they were hard, her expression stone solid as she looked at him in distaste.

‘(Y/N), we can start fresh with a new business; it’ll be even easier this time, you’ve done enough.’ (Y/M/N) pleaded with her daughter.

‘If we do that what did I waste the last four years for? I’ll be fine this time, I promise.’ (Y/N) said soothingly.

‘(Y/N)!’ the mother cried in desperation as she tried to physically pull her child back into the house.

‘Mom, don’t worry. I will come by sometime later this week.’ (Y/N) said, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

She did the same to her father, Ivar could hear the old man offer to shut everything down now, and he heard her decline the offer.

When (Y/N) turned to face him she looked right through him, walking past him without speaking and getting into his car.

‘Ivar.’ (Y/F/N) said, regaining his attention.

‘Sign the papers, do her that one kindness.’ he advised.

‘She is my wife.’ Ivar said weakly.

‘I’ve seen wet shits make for a better husband than you, Ivar Ragnarson. If the world was fair she never would have ended up with scum like you, she would be home, healthy and happy.’ his mother in law said coldly before she stormed back into the house and slammed the door closed.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the silent night, but Ivar kept his poker face firm as again his father in law faced him.

‘When I was your age, I knocked down any man who upset my wife. Lucky for you those days are in the past, but that is my daughter in your car. If she ever comes home the way she did tonight…there is not enough money in your bank to keep me at bay. Are we clear son?’

Ivar tilted his head.

‘Are you threatening me?’ Ivar asked partially in amusement, but mostly in pure disbelief.

‘I’m telling you as a father, there will be severe consequences if I see her in that state ever again. Are. We. Clear?’ the older man said, his tone even and his eyes wild.

Ivar felt the severity of the man’s words and he chose not to respond, silently walking to the car.

He held his breath until he heard the front door close behind him before he got into his car.

In the passenger seat (Y/N) sat in silence and she didn’t even seem to notice him sitting beside her.

‘Are you satisfied now that you put on your show? Made a big scene for your parents?’ Ivar began to scold as they were on the way back home.

‘Shut up Ivar.’

Ivar was lucky they were at a stop sign, he imagined he would have crashed had the car been moving when she said it.

‘What did you just say?’ he asked.

‘Shut up. You hate talking to me so just shut up, make it easy on us both.’ (Y/N) said, looking out her window in boredom.

‘Is it the medication you hide from me that’s making you think you can speak to me this way.’

This time she scoffed a little laugh.

‘Yes the pills I hid in the front of my cabinet, how ever did you discover my secrets?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Stop this.’ Ivar demanded.

‘The only thing I’m going to stop doing is wasting time trying to be a good wife to you. If you insist on keeping this sham marriage then fine; but I’m done participating in it.’ she said, never looking away from the window.

Her tone was so dry and dead it seemed to echo in the silence that followed it.

Ivar drove the rest of the way home in silence, watching her in his peripheral vision. (Y/N) didn’t move, she didn’t talk, she didn’t cry; Ivar was almost sure she didn’t even blink.

She just sat with her forehead against the passenger window and stared silently.

When he parked in their driveway she still sat still as stone.

‘Did you want to stay in the car all night, or are we finally going to sleep?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

She didn’t reply to him at all, just opened the door and got out. Ivar followed behind her and watched as she lazily walked to the door and waited for him to unlock it.

Her eyes were focused on the sky, specifically the sun that was beginning to rise. She looked at it for as long as she could before she followed Ivar inside and he closed the door.

‘I never want to hear the word divorce come out of your mouth again. And tomorrow I will be taking you to Floki for a full check up.’ Ivar instructed as he at last took off his shoes.

‘Why? You think Floki gave me something that made me act out of line? Or are you actually worried about my health?’

‘Of course I’m-‘

Ring! Ring! Ring!

His phone rang shrilly, interrupting whatever he was trying to say; and eager for a way out of this uncomfortably vulnerable conversation, Ivar hurriedly answered.

He knew only one person would be bold enough to call him at this hour.

‘Maggie?’

Ivar turned away from (Y/N) to give his full focus on the phone call, the way he always did.

‘Ivar! Me and my friend got too drunk at the restaurant, can you pick us up?’ Margrethe said loudly on the other end, going in and out of a horrible singing voice as she spoke.

‘I’ll be there in thirty.’ he sighed tiredly, already begrudgingly going to put his shoes back on.

‘I’m going to drop off Maggie, we’ll talk in the morning.’ Ivar said over his shoulder as he went to leave, but he stopped when he didn’t get a reply.

When Ivar turned around all he saw was an empty foyer.

‘(Y/N).’ he called once more before he went upstairs to find her gathering the remains of her soggy forgotten salad.

She went to walk past him to presumably throw out the trash but Ivar stopped her by grabbing her arm.

‘I’ll be back soon, we’ll talk more in the morning.’ he announced.

‘No we won’t, something will happen with your favorite “family friend” and you won’t show up. I don’t know what yet, could be a stomach virus that needs hospital treatment, or an urgent meeting she forgets to reschedule; whatever it is doesn’t matter.’ (Y/N) dismissed with audible certainty.

He let go of her arm just to run his hands down his face.

‘Why do you always insist on bringing Margrethe up? This, our marriage, has nothing to do with her.’ he said, this time preparing for whatever argument she had.

‘Have you ever told her that?’

Ivar was stunned into silence by the question.

(Y/N) pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued on her way to the kitchen to throw away her salad.

Ivar followed her and he saw her roll her eyes in annoyance when she saw him behind her.

‘Why are you even still here right now, Ivar? Don’t you have a damsel in distress to save?’ she asked as she began to clean her dirty dishes.

Ivar felt a rush of undignified anger wash over him, he had to bite back a sharp response to keep his anger in check. Before he could reply he felt his phone ring again in his pocket.

‘Tick tock Ivar, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room when you get back; and don’t pester me today. I’m sleeping in until the bed makes me sore, then I’m going out with my family for lunch, and my sister is taking me out clubbing.’ she said as she placed her bowl and fork in the drying rack.

‘Clubbing? Where?’ Ivar asked, he had never heard his wife even mention going anywhere other than the store.

‘Not telling you.’ she dismissed.

Again Ivar’s phone rang rudely before he could speak and it was all starting to annoy him, he couldn’t even have this important conversation right now.

‘We’re going to talk about this when I get back.’ he said firmly before he went to leave, but he heard her mumble to herself before he made it out of the kitchen.

‘We won’t.’

[heathenarmyimagines]

Could you follow me back? It would make me feel even more elated!!

I'm the worst about checking my inbox but I did just follow you!!

[heathenarmyimagines]

Happily Divorcing You

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar has been an awful husband, but he never expected his wife would ever want to leave him.

Pairing: Not telling

___________________________

Four years.

It had been four long and lonely years of being married to one of the richest men in the country, Ivar Ragnarson. Four years of ignored phone calls, public humiliation, cruelty and dismissive comments.

When the marriage was first proposed something in your gut told you to run, but then you saw him. Him in his well fitting suit and his electric blue eyes; you thought to yourself, if you have to marry some stranger your dad picked, at least he’s attractive. You had even been foolish enough to imagine growing to love each other in due time, how stupid you had been.

Even in that first meeting his eyes never met yours, it was a business contract to him. His family required him to be married in order to receive his father’s inheritance, and your family had ‘an acceptable social standing’.

The wedding was rushed and small, the honeymoon nonexistent as Ivar went to work immediately after you both said “I do”

Now you were sitting on the stairs four years later, still watching the front door and waiting for it to finally open. You had been sitting there long enough for your fully charged phone to be on thirteen percent battery now, and still the door was unmoving.

‘He’d make me wait for even this wouldn’t he? At least he’s consistent.’ you scoffed as you picked up your file folder and stood to go upstairs.

Just then the door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang, the noise was so sudden you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your heart began to slow down as you recognized Ivar standing in the doorway with his arm around a familiar petite blond.

'Oh, your wife was waiting up for you. How cute.' Margrethe smirked as she leaned impossibly closer to your husband.

‘Are the vultures starting to wait around for their meal already?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

‘I know you don’t like me bothering you after work, but it’s important. We should discuss this in private.’ you said, holding up the folder.

‘Margrethe is my assistant, she sees every piece of paper with my name on it.’

At this you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, because of course he would never grant you the honor of speaking with him privately.

‘You’re right, don’t know what I was thinking. Well the summary is I need you to sign these immediately.’ you said as you held out the folder.

‘What is this?’ Ivar asked as he took the file folder.

‘Nothing important, just divorce papers.’ you shrugged casually as you walked past Ivar and his mistress on your way to the kitchen.

You had always imagined doing this would be harder, divorcing someone should feel like the world ending. Like losing a portion of yourself, it should feel like leaving your happy place.

You had been looking for things with happier memories that would make you want to stay, but there were no good memories in this house. The truth was finally saying it felt amazing; divorcing Ivar was the most fun you’d had since you met him.

‘Divorce?’ Ivar asked in what amusingly sounded like shock.

‘I already signed, just waiting on yours and then I can take them to city hall.’ you explained.

‘What game are you playing at now (Y/N)?’ Margrethe asked snobbily as she took the file from Ivar and began reading the Divorce Agreement.

‘Feel free to read it over before you sign, I’m not after alimony or any of your assets. Clean cut for everyone; we both go back to not knowing each other on and off paper. My family is certainly not as well off as yours but I’ll be comfortable without taking a singular cent from you, Ivar.’ you assured them as you began to prepare dinner.

You felt like having a large salad tonight.

‘Cut the dramatics, and tell me what you want.’ Ivar said as he followed you into the kitchen.

‘I already told you what I want, I want to divorce you Ivar. You have your inheritance, hell according to the business magazines you’ve tripled it in the last two years, so even losing it now wouldn’t matter. You got what you wanted from me, my family has thrived as well with your family’s influence but there are no current projects between our companies so now is the perfect time to do this.’ you reasoned, still moving around the kitchen preparing your meal.

‘The perfect time? Exactly how long have you been planning this?’ Ivar asked accusingly.

‘If you’re asking how long I've had the divorce papers signed…about a year. Didn’t want any scandals affecting any projects so I’ve just been waiting.’

Ivar felt a vein begin to bulge in his forehead as his frustration grew; he ran a hand down his face to try and ground himself before he said something in anger, but his tongue was too sharp for his own good.

‘So how much are you trying to get out of this? Because whatever the amount, you could just ask for it now without all this drama.’ he said nastily.

‘I already said I don't want your money Ivar, ask your assistant, she’s had her nose to the page the whole time.’

‘Wow, she’s really surrendering everything except her premarital assets. The cars, the jewelry, the houses and estates…everything but her bakery.’ Margrethe said, looking up smugly from the divorce papers for the first time.

‘It’s mine, I spent months on the menu, I designed the interior down the last floor tile. I’ve put more love into that bakery than you could imagine Margrethe; but you’re right. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a new agreement, hopefully those new terms are satisfactory enough to you.’ you said as you plated your salad beautifully.

‘When did you even open a bakery?’ Ivar asked in utter confusion, this was the first he’d heard of a bakery.

‘It doesn’t matter when it opened, you’ll close it down. Just let me know when you’re ready to sign the papers. I’ll be out of the house by noon tomorrow, and I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.’ you said, trying to walk past Ivar, but he grabbed your arm and stopped you.

‘I’m talking to you.’ he seethed.

‘Yeah for the first time in four years… and it’s too late. I don’t want to listen to what you have to say, Ivar; I don’t want anything from you except this divorce.’ you replied, pulling your arm out of his grasp.

‘I’ll enjoy my meal upstairs, I’m sure Margrethe won’t mind cooking you two a nice dinner…the candles are in the cabinet if you two want some mood lighting.’ you said coolly.

Margrethe made a smug face when she heard her name, but you didn’t feel any urge to even acknowledge her; so you took your salad, left the kitchen at last and went upstairs.

_______________________________

While you ate your meal Ivar stood in the kitchen right where you left him.

Divorce?

She had been all too eager to marry him when their families suggested it, now she was able to ask to divorce him without even looking at him.

‘Who the hell does she think she is? Mother Teresa? I told you that you shouldn’t have married the first girl your parents picked. She's too domestic for you.’ Margrethe snipped.

‘My parents didn’t pick her.’

‘What?’ Margrethe asked in horror as his words were processed.

‘I’m sorry Margrethe, I’ll get you an Uber back home, but I need to talk to (Y/N) right now.’ Ivar tried to follow behind his wife.

‘But what about our dinner reservation? It took almost two weeks to get it.’ Margrethe complained, grabbing onto Ivar’s arm gently.

Ivar cursed under his breath as he dug his wallet out of his pocket and gave it to his assistant.

‘Go with a friend.’ he said as he gave her one of his credit cards.

'But Ivar, we always have dinner together.' the blonde tried to remind him, linking their arms.

'Then we can reschedule this one, Maggie I need to speak with my wife tonight. Just go.' Ivar snapped impatiently, pulling away from her.

With that done he snatched the file from Margrethe and ran up the stairs; he needed to talk to his wife.

Ivar barged into the room and saw her on the floor in front of the bed eating her food and watching what looked like Game of Thrones on her phone while it was charging.

‘You don’t have to enter every room like there’s an assassin behind the door.’ she said as she paused her show.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Ivar asked.

‘Well I was trying to watch my show before I started packing, but if you want me to hurry at least let me finish my salad.’ she said as she went back to eating.

‘Stop playing games! Why are you asking me for a divorce?’ Ivar shouted in frustration.

‘Why would I stay, Ivar.’ she asked seriously, setting aside her plate and looking at Ivar fully.

Ivar felt as if her eyes had stabbed him in the chest, he had never seen such anger expressed solely with one's eyes.

‘Four years, and I’ve spoken to you more tonight than I ever have before. In fact I never speak to you outside of mandatory social events. Events where you humiliate me publicly by bringing another woman every time. How many times have I reminded your coworkers that I’m your wife and not Margrethe? Do you know? Because I don’t, I stopped correcting them last year…when I got the divorce papers.’ she said angrily as she stood.

‘So that’s what this is? Jealousy? You’re being ridiculous.’ he scoffed.

‘When is my birthday, Ivar?’ she asked directly.

Ivar opened his mouth to answer but no answer came out, because he didn’t have one. He had never even thought about her having a birthday to celebrate.

‘On Margrethe’s birthday last year, you made me go to the store and buy an emerald pair of earrings. Emerald because green is her favorite color, gold details so she knows it’s expensive, not too big so they’re comfortable to wear.’ she said as she walked closer to Ivar.

‘She is a family friend, and she has been working under me for seven years. I’m not having an affair with her.’ Ivar explained.

‘Maybe you aren't, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t love me, Ivar. You at least seem to like her more than me, so why not divorce me and see what happens with her. Maybe you’ll even want to sleep with her at night.’ (Y/N) practically snarled up at him.

‘I sleep with you every night!’ Ivar argued.

‘You creep in while I sleep and you sneak out before I wake up. You don’t speak to me, you don’t hold me, you don’t touch me. Hell sometimes you act like it sickens you to even look at me, so why are we doing this now?’ she seemed to be begging now more than arguing.

She looked like a woman at the end of her rope, her angry eyes were beginning to glisten with fresh hot tears.

‘I will never darken your doorway again, I won’t ask you for a dime- I’ll give up my bakery. I will do anything…so long as I don’t have to be yours.’

Ivar knew she had a point, in the back of his mind he always knew he wasn’t a good husband to (Y/N), but he never thought she would be the one to end it.

‘I will not sign the papers, not now or ever. You are my wife, you have been my wife for four years and you will be my wife for the rest of your life.’ Ivar said firmly as he stepped closer.

He stopped immediately when he saw her step back from him.

‘I don’t want to be your wife!’ she screamed as the tears finally began to fall down her cheeks.

‘I’m tired! More than that, I’m exhausted from walking on your fucking eggshells! I’m tired of waiting up for you, eating alone, waking up alone and feeling like dog shit on your shoe!’ she struggled to get the words out over her sobs, and once she had she just kept crying.

Ivar didn’t know what to do, she had never cried before, no matter how harsh he was, but now she cried hard and her sobs seemed to echo in the room.

He took a cautious step towards her and tried to do what he knew a good husband would, comfort her somehow, but she pushed him away.

‘No! Not now, after I finally got the courage to leave! I’m not doing this with you now!’ she said before she stormed out of the room.

‘Where are you going?’ Ivar asked as he followed her down the stairs.

(Y/N) stopped by the door and looked up at him still standing by the stairs.

‘I’m not telling you, I don’t want you to know where I am, or where I’m going. I don’t ever want to see you again after this divorce is finalized. Don’t bother even speaking to me outside of signing the papers, goodbye Ivar.’ she said before she removed her wedding ring and put it on the table.

‘(Y/N), I’m telling you not to leave.’

This time she didn’t argue or even acknowledge that she’d heard him speak at all; she just turned around, opened the door and left.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Quick Author's Note

So I'm back again and I have been watching a LOT of drama shorts series recently. Basically this post is to give some kinda context for the vibe of the fic I'm going to post next.

Also this is the last call for the Taglist; In my last post I said I would be starting a new Taglist from scratch so comment on either this post or the one before if you want to be tagged in my next story.

[heathenarmyimagines]

IMPORTANT: I’m going to update my tag list and I will be starting from scratch. So if you want to be added just reply to this post.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

���I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

[heathenarmyimagines]

Hey!! I hope that everything is going good. I wanted to know if you were going to update “The Alliance “ series?

Yes I am, I have actually been writing that update for two years. I saw your messages yesterday and they really gave me the last bit of motivation I needed to finally finish the sixth chapter. I'm posting it literally right after I'm done typing this response. I just want to say I really appreciated you seeing how much research and respect I tried to put into this particular story. I'm adding you to my taglist and wishing you well.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

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

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

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

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

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

‘You think she had an affair?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Of course come with me.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Rumors?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘For how long?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this all of them went silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least not personally.

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

Everything was hitting her all at once.

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

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

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

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

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

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Captured

Summary: Ivar tries to see if (Y/N) is valuable.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One

Waking up felt like being knocked out all over again, but in reverse and much slower.

You groaned in pain as you slowly gained consciousness, and as you curled in on yourself you noticed the surface you were laying on was cold and hard. Too hard and smooth to be dirt, not splintery enough to be a wooden floor, but what set your instincts on fire was the coldness. Only one thing other than ice got this cold…metal.

A cage.

Before you could think better of doing so you sat up with far too much speed and the motion made her head spin and blurred your vision. Despite the horrible consequences you did manage to take in enough of your surroundings to confirm you were in fact in a metal cage before you closed your eyes to stop the dizziness.

‘Finally, if you didn’t wake up by sunrise we would have had to kill you before we broke camp.’

You had only heard the voice once but you quickly recognized its owner, and in doing so recall all the events that led you to be in this situation.

‘Get to the point, before I decide to bash my head against these bars. If not to put a permanent end to this headache I’ll do it to keep you from killing me.’ you said as angrily as you could manage as you clutch your head in pain.

‘Is it worth it to kill you?’ he asked, in English to your surprise.

‘You speak English?’ you asked.

‘Of course, I visited this lovely country with my great father when I was just becoming a man.’

‘I know. I just didn’t expect you to care enough to learn to speak a new language.’

‘Well I’m still waiting for an answer. Are you worth killing? Do you have any valuable information about Ecbert’s defenses or army?’

‘No. I am a ward of King Ecbert, I am no relative to him and no one will pay ransom for me. No other warrior even knows I stayed behind to kill you so no one is coming to save me if that’s what you’re really asking.’

‘You were not in Ecbert’s castle when I visited, that much I can be sure of. You must have come to him after he handed my father off like a pig for slaughter.’ Ivar said conversationally.

‘That’s not what happened.’ you said as you finally opened your eyes.

The more you talked the pain was slowly easing and your vision cleared enough for you to focus on the viking man sitting in front of your cage.

The cage itself wasn’t too bad, you couldn’t possibly stand up, not that you could without another dizzy spell, but you could sit up fully without hitting your head. You look around and realize that you are in a cage that was on a wagon. Ivar was sitting on the ground looking up at you with a confused face.

‘That is not what happened? Do you mean Ecbert didn’t send my father off to be butchered? Because by all accounts that is what happened. Aella, he did it, and from what I’ve heard it was a display of violence and cruelty.’

‘That is true; and despite how things are I am truly sorry for your loss, but it was not a decision that King Ecbert made out of malice. I never met Ragnar but this much I can say with certainty, Ecbert didn’t wish for any harm to come to your father.’

King Ecbert didn’t often speak openly of the times he personally parlayed with Vikings, and he never spoke of his conversations with Ragnar Lothbrok. Those were moments he seemed determined to keep close to his heart so that he could take those memories to his grave. 

However, when he had private lunches with you, Alfred and Aethelred he would drink wine and if his mood was good and if the wine was strong he would let slip little treats of information.

“This wine is the sweetest you can get, those Vikings nearly emptied our cellar when they got into it.”

“Slow down Alfred, you have the table manners of a Viking, soon you’ll be smashing our plates.”

The king would say little things like that every once in a while, but one time…when his mood was not good at all and the wine was too strong he went on a full drunken rant.

“Ruling. It is something men are killing to do, not realizing that no matter what it ends up killing you! The key to being a good king is this.’” Ecbert said drunkenly to Alfred, ignoring the sullen look Aethelred made at his exclusion.

“Know that you are nothing. What you want means nothing, the people you love don’t matter, even your own wishes mean less than nothing. Why? Dear boy, I will tell you why. Because your kingdom is paramount, your people need you to do right by them; and it is essential you understand the place you hold in their eyes. You will not be their Lord, their Liege or even their Highness; you will be their King!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“Their King ordained by God! A God you will be all but forced to question as you make unholy decisions for the betterment of your people. Horrible evil decisions that you make when you're young and full of good intentions; decisions you as King can’t publicly call mistakes. Decisions that will end lives, decisions that will haunt you for the rest of your days and may even keep you from eternal paradise.”

Poor Alfred, he was only…ten maybe eleven as Ecbert poured the worries of an old king into his childish head.

Ivar looked up at you with no true expression but you could tell he was taking in your words, but you would probably never know how he processed them.

‘Hvitserk!’ 

You were startled by his sudden yelling, but you definitely recognized the name he called for; his brother, another son of Ragnar.

A gangly viking man came from the other side of your cage and yawned.

‘I thought you would babble on forever.’ he said as he stretched sleepily.

‘So…do we have to kill her or bring her for information? Either way I hope to enjoy her first.’ he said as he observed you in the cage like a pig at market.

‘I do understand Norse as well.’ you spat.

‘I’m aware. So what will it be, Ivar? Is she useful?’

‘She is very useful, brother, but you will not be having her. She will be our hostage.’

[heathenarmyimagines]

When are you going to upload ivar x reader the one he choose?

Do you have a master list?

I’m working on the update now I’m hoping to get this chapter out within two weeks. I will try to make this chapter at least six thousand words but it may be a bit shorter to avoid it taking too long to post.

[heathenarmyimagines]

hihi i hope you’re having a wonderful day filled with sunshine n rainbows !! 🌷✨ if you take requests, could you pls write viking’s rollo rothbrok x daughter ! reader ( so platonic obviously ) ? perhaps set some time after rollo is left in paris, but before the second attack, where the reader n rollo are reunited after the reader travelled to paris alone + the fact that she travelled alone is a big deal because she’s never had to fend for herself before ? that’s probably a horrible explanation oof but if you’ve seen netflix’s the witcher, think rollo as geralt n the reader as ciri, thank you 🥺💛

AN: This request has been sitting in my inbox forever and for some reason I just felt like writing something right now. Also I have seen the Witcher but my mind went a completely different way while I was writing.

---------------------------------------------

Rollo often thought back on his time back in Kattegat...his time as a true Viking.

A true Viking, not the false Christian that he had to be now that he was a man of power in Paris. A man with a wife who was expecting his first legitimate child.

He was in his war room where he spent most of his afternoons, going over official papers and looking out at the sea. The sea that called him back to his old Gods and his old life and family.

He loved his wife and he would love this child and every other child his wife gave with all his heart that was his own; but a part of his heart was not his to give to his new family.

Part of his heart wold always belong to the true Gods of North and to the family that he betrayed.

To Siggy, his first wife who died before he could earn her forgiveness for his poor treatment of her. To Ragnar, his brother who always forgave his ambitions no matter how unforgivable; the brother who was ready to die in his attempts to slaughter him when last they saw each other. Even to his bastard child, (Y/N) whose slave mother he had merely favored sexually while married to Siggy had ownership of a part of his heart.

When ever he sat with Gisala, brushing her hair or rubbing her swollen feet he thought back to how poorly he had treated the thrall that he had carried his first born child. Siggy had been furious and she gave the woman harsher chores than was reasonable and he had allowed it as to avoid the wrath of his wife; but the child, he would not allow the child any mistreatment.

She was his child, legitimate or not, the love a father has for his child is not dictated by that child's status. the yearly years of (Y/N)'s life were his happiest years since his own childhood.

He had spoiled her, despite Siggy's agitations, Ragnar gave him advice on raising a daughter; they hadn't been that friendly together since before they sailed to the West.

Before he had made his final betrayal by staying in Paris he had left her in the care of Aslaug back in Kattegat and he often prayed to both the Christ God and the True Gods that his daughter still lived happily somewhere in Norway.

It was of her that he was thinking of at his desk when his eyes wandered to the window and he took notice of a merchant ship being granted entrance to the city. His eyes went to back to his papers when something unbelievable in the corner of his sight made him look back to the window quickly.

There was no mistake, there was a Viking woman on that ship and it was not just any woman.

He ran from his war room with such speed and urgency that every guard and soldier he passed ran along side him, thinking he'd seen an immediate threat to Paris.

Quite gracelessly he dismissed them all, in Norse, the language that frightened his men enough to get them to abandon their intentions to follow him.

It was common knowledge that King Rollo only spoke his mother tongue in situations in which he was NOT to be reasoned with and he often became hostile while roaring in the Heathen's Language.

Rollo got a large amount of attention as he finally reached the docks.

The ship had already been anchored and he cold see the crew already preparing to unload their merchandise but the woman he'd seen was not there.

Frantically he searched around for her.

'Father?'

Rollo gasped as he heard his native language spoken by another for the first time in years.

He turned and saw his daughter (Y/N) standing among the crew of men unloading the empty barrels from the ship.

'(Y/N), my sweet child.' he said as he pulled the child into his large bear like arms.

She was no long the small girl he'd dreamed of seeing again, of course not after all these years.

'I fled Kattegat Father, I exchanged my services on the ship for safe passage to Paris to be with you.' she said as she clung to him, her face pressed into his chest.

Rollo thought back to the small girl who had been pampered from birth to at least fourteen years old. How did she become this woman of twenty three who could travel with no ensured security on a ship full of men?

He wanted to ask her about things in Kattegat, and about how she had been treated after his disgraces, but for now just holding her in his arms made his heart feel like soaring.

'My sweet Viking Child... how happy I am to hold you in my arms again. The Gods have blessed me with you once again, and I promise I will never abandon you again.' he swore, kissing the top of her head.

He tightened his hold around her as she began to sob onto his fine silks, as she cried his eyes saw how the people around him watched him warily and gossiped about the King holding a filthy Pagan girl for all the public to see.

Even as he came to the conclusion that the people of Paris, his wife and the Church would all disapprove of his daughter he knew he would never let her leave his side again.

No matter what happened because of it.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Hai! Are you KraftCookies on AOOO??

Yes I am, I made it in case my posts started getting flagged on Tumblr. I have imagines and regular fanfics from ALL of my tumblr blogs and some I didn’t post here since I didn’t want to make a whole new blog again. So if you like:

Vikings

Once upon a time (specifically Peter Pan’s season and arch)

Teen Wolf

The Dirt/Motley Crue

Supernatural

Please check out my Ao3.

Ps. I’m thinking about picking a few old posts from my old Fanfiction.net account on Ao3 as well.

[heathenarmyimagines]

How are you doing ?

Overall I’m ok, currently under the weather (not Covid thank God) thank you for asking. How are you feeling?

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Ivar finally gets to meet his in-laws and he sees a new part of his intended and and himself.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

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

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

The journey from Kattegat to Tunisia was long and tiresome, but luckily for everyone on board it was not challenging.

No storms had hit them and the waves for the most part were calm, and the winds were usually kind.

It would have pleased Ivar greatly to say that he took to the ocean like a true viking, but that was not the case.

The first week he was sick daily, emptying the contents of his stomach into the ocean almost ritualistically. His father and brothers took great pleasure in teasing him for it and his mother, when she wasn’t obsessively looking for storm clouds, was smothering him in her care.

Luckily his bride-to-be was kind enough to have mercy on him, pulling him away from his family and into their own private accommodations.

At last after long months at sea, land was finally in sight.

They would dock by tomorrow before noon, sunset at the absolute latest.

Once again an ill feeling was settling in Ivar’s stomach, but he was almost certain that it wasn’t sea sickness this time.

He had been sure that the hardest part of his first journey would be the actual journey; the unforgiving sea that was famous for swallowing whomever it chose. However, he knew the second land had been spotted that he was wrong.

The hardest part would be the arrival.

It would be the feeling of being out of place in a completely new country, surrounded by strangers who didn’t know his past.

People who would look down on him as a cripple.

Ivar thought back to how vicious Princess (Y/N) had been in their Matrimonial Fight, she had come from a violent culture that required men to be strong enough to protect their wives. What would he do if another man wished to fight for her? To take her from him?

‘When you think too hard your eyebrows bunch up.’

Ivar looked over to see (Y/N) coming into their small accommodations.

The room was just big enough for a small mattress and two chests containing a small amount of their clothes.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You are worrying.’ she said plainly.

Ivar sighed, seeing no point in denying the truth, it wouldn’t fool either of them. Over the months at sea he had come to understand that she was just as observant as he was and he was getting used to that.

‘Of course I am, this will be my first time seeing real strangers. In a strange place with customs that I will not be able to see as anything but strange.’ he confessed.

‘I assure you it will not be too strange, we are after all the same. My people are people, same as yours.’ she said sitting on the mattress beside him.

He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to place a kiss there.

That was a thing he had come to find out as well, he liked kissing her; anywhere she would allow him to.

So far he had been confined to her hands, cheek, forehead, nose and lips; although some nights when she was in better moods she would let him venture over her neck.

‘Tell me about what will happen when we dock.’ he said.

‘There will be a large greeting party, most likely everyone in the village that could spare the day’s work, performers of course, musicians and dancers. My family will be there, in traditional dress. We will have a grand festival to celebrate my return and engagement. You and your family will be invited to our castle for lodging.’ (Y/N) explained.

‘What is your family like? Warriors like you?’

She let out a soft chuckle and shook her head in the negative.

‘My mother was princess of Tunisia, Father was a prince from Algeria. They were married to end disputes between their countries. After the death of my father, may his spirit carry on, my mother didn’t marry for many years. Until, after she saw I was on the warrior’s path, she chose to remarry Akashi, their marriage provides many beneficial trades…’ she paused, her words trailing off as a fond smile spread across her face.

‘If I’m honest I don’t care about the trades, he made my mother happy...he gave her a child; my brother.’

‘You never spoke of a brother before.’

‘Of course not, you were strangers to me, with too much information for my personal liking already. I would never say anything to put my family at risk, they mean too much.’

‘You didn’t trust us?’ he smiled.

‘Would you trust your family?’

‘No.’

‘Then I don’t know if what I say next will comfort you, but my family isn’t hostile. Yes our customs may seem harsh to you but we do not dishonor guests. We don’t spill blood that way, it’s not clean.’

‘Clean? What is clean?’

The princess sighed and laid on the bed, Ivar did the same laying beside her.

‘Growing up children are taught that all their actions are permanent, the spirits see and never forget. The scars we have are symbols of decisions that we are never meant to forget, people keep blades in their families for generations to honor their fathers.’ she explained.

‘Honor.’ he said.

‘Honor, we want to be good spirits, not Vuil. We want to be free to see all the world and travel with the winds, but that is a prize you have to earn.’

Ivar thought over her words, it all seemed so...proud?

That was the only word he could think of to describe it, (Y/N) always carried herself with the utmost dignity. She never seemed unsure and was always ready to speak about her homeland and her customs.

He imagined that’s how he would look if anyone asked him about his culture, he was proud of his Viking upbringing. He loved their sacrifices, their feasts, fights...everything about it.

‘What is your brother’s name?’ he asked.

‘Ayo, he is...I suppose eight now. He is fascinated by your culture, and I’m sure he won’t be able to resist asking a thousand questions.’

‘Well this may surprise you, but I’m good with kids. I’m sure your brother will like me. Do you think your mother will?’

The princess looked away and bit down on her lower lip.

‘I’ll take that as a no.’ he sighed, closing his eyes tiredly.

‘I didn’t say anything.’ she said in her own defense.

‘You didn’t have to, your face said plenty.’

‘What does my face say now?’

Ivar felt her hand on his cheek and opened his eyes, he looked up at her and saw her smiling down at him.

Her brown eyes shining as she looked into his blue.

‘It says...that you love me.’

‘I do...and I can’t wait to be your wife in the eyes of my Spirits and in the eyes of your Gods. A marriage with that much faith and power behind it could never fail.’ she said, keeping her eyes locked onto his.

Before he realized it he had already begun moving closer to her, but before he could feel the luxury of her lips her servants and Trya came into the small room.

‘We apologize, we will be on shore soon.’ his thrall said, holding up the clothes she was carrying.

Ivar sighed, mildly frustrated by the interruption, but he gave a small nod.

The princess stood and walked over to her own girls.

With their backs turned to each other each royal was dressed, Ivar in traditional Viking furs and the Princess in her own royal dashiki and had her hair braided down.

‘Hurry up Ivar! We’re almost there!’ Hvitserk called from the upper deck.

Ivar rolled his eyes, he really had wished his entire family wasn’t along for this journey. It would have made things a lot more peaceful for him.

Now that he was dressed he took up his crutches and made his way up, the princess and her servants followed behind him.

He had the suspension she walked behind him in case he fell, but he wouldn’t bring it up, now wasn’t the time for it.

‘Is everyone ready to dock?’ the princess said.

‘Of course, it seems your people are ready for our arrival as well Princess.’ Ragnar said, looking at the shore.

Sure enough there was a large crowd waiting for them on the beach, from their ship they could hear heavy drums and see dancers jumping and turning almost madly to the beat.

‘Mother…she is with child again!’ the princess said excitedly.

Ivar squinted and saw a woman in a long flowing red dress and he could just make out the round belly filled with a babe. At the Queen’s side he could see a small boy standing to her right who was in matching robes; on her left there was a man with hair that was styled in dreadlocks.

The man’s robes were yellow and the styling of his robes, while similar, did appear to be different.

‘The queen is with child!’ one of her servants announced to the other Tunisians, who all cheered.

‘Thank the Spirits!’ the princess yelled.

‘Thank the Spirits!’ her warriors chanted.

‘The Spirits are Kind!’

That chant came from the beach.

At last they reached land and the men and servants went about lowering their anchors, some Tunisians even jumping over the side of the ship to run at their own families.

Of course the royals and their personal servants remained very composed and waited until the ship was fully stopped and anchored before they left the ship.

Ivar fought the urge to let out a relieved sigh as he planted his useless feet on solid land, silently thanking the Gods that he had made it to their destination. And even happier to not be on the water anymore.

‘(Y/N).’

‘Mother.’ the princess greeted as she bowed as the royal family approached her.

‘You were gone a lot longer than two weeks.’ the queen said.

‘I am sorry to make you worry, but I come with good news.’ she said as she raised. The princess walked to stand by Ivar’s side, he stood a bit taller on his crutches as she took hold of his arm.

‘I have chosen a husband, he won our Matrimonial Fight. We will be married.’ (Y/N) said happily.

‘That is good news please Princess, let us get to the palace.’ the man said.

Ivar was not the only Viking to notice that the Tunisian Queen did not smile at her daughter’s news about her marriage.

They were led by the royal party from the beach where the festivities of their arrival began.

‘Why did the performers not stop?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Just because the celebrations are in royal honor it doesn’t mean it serves only the royals. The people put a lot into the festivities, they deserve to enjoy it.’ (Y/N) answered.

As they walked all the Vikings were taken back by their surroundings.

The homes were close and small, all seemed to be made out of clay or stones, the roofs were made of dried leaves or grass. Outside each small house there were small gardens, most of which seemed to have already been picked, but there were a few exceptions.

Despite the large number of people still on the beach there were a few people in their gardens picking what they thought was ready to harvest.

The people stood and bowed to the royals and greeted the princess eagerly; a few children even ran to her and placed kisses at her hands.

‘Princess! I missed you so much.’ one little girl said smiling, one tooth missing in the front, she looked to be five maybe and her hair was braided simply.

‘Did you? How much?’ (Y/N) smiled back as she bent down to meet the girl’s gaze better.

The little girl spread out her arms as wide as her small body would allow.

‘This much! I asked the Spirits to carry my message to you all the way in Scandevia,’

Ivar smiled at her attempt to say his country’s name that he was certain sounded strange to her tongue.

‘Of course, I felt your love there and the Spirits were so touched by your love that they carried me home safely. Take my appreciation.’

Everyone watched as the princess took off a golden arm band and placed it on the child’s wrist.

‘May the Spirits bless your kind heart and protect you.’ she smiled as she kissed the girl on her palm.

The little girl had stars in her brown eyes as she looked at the bracelet on her wrist and thanked the princess excitedly before running to what must have been her mother to show her the new gift she was given.

‘Your people really love you.’ Ragnar said as they continued to walk.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this, and I have been royal my whole life, even in Yotaland I never saw subjects act like this.’ Aslaug agreed in awe.

‘Your parents and name make you royal, but your people keep you royal.’ the queen said.

‘My first husband, May his Spirit carry on, always stressed that royals would always be outnumbered by subjects. No matter what efforts you make, it will never change, and no matter your belief the odds tend to favor the masses.’ Queen Aza said politely, but there was...some other tone beneath her smile.

Everyone carried on walking, but Ivar heard the warning beneath her words. She wanted them to know that they were outnumbered in this country.

Their palace was the most grand thing Ivar had ever seen, it was a giant building made of more bricks than he’d ever be able to count. It seemed to be at least five separate building had been welded together. It looked like a home for giants when compared to the small humble huts surrounding it.

They were led down long halls into what had to be the throne room, in the center sat a massive grand wooden throne. Its very appearance had an aura surrounding it, like it demanded respect just as much as the person who sat in it.

A great many furs hung on the walls and the skin of a great beast that Ivar had never seen the likes of rested on the floor. He imagined if he had decided to crawl instead of using his crutches he would have stopped to examine it closer.

(Y/N), who had slowed down her usual pace to stay at Ivar’s side, walked with her family to the throne.

Queen Aza took the seat, King Akashi stood at her right while Prince Ayo and Princess (Y/N) stood at her left.

They all looked out at the Norsemen, who returned the look in question.

‘Now that we are alone, I would like to sit aside the formalities. The truth is that I didn’t like the idea of my first born being taken across the world by strangers.’ the queen said strictly.

‘I can understand that your Highness, really I can. I didn��t want my son to be on a ship, but I had to accept that while he is my son he is his own man. Just as your beautiful daughter is her own woman.’ Ragnar said.

The queen fixed her eyes on him.

‘You could forbid your daughter from marrying my son, but that would hurt her.’ he continued as he stepped up, he walked over to Ivar’s side.

‘She loves him, he loves her. Separating them now would devastate them and they would hate us for it. I am the first to admit that my son has plenty of reason to hate me… I don’t want to give him another one.’

Ragnar placed his hand on Ivar’s shoulder and gave a strong squeeze.

Ivar closed his eyes and looked away, he knew Ragnar was thinking of how he had abandoned him as a baby. How he ignored him so completely that his mother had to ask Floki to raise him, it was only when he had lived long enough to get his armring did his father truly accept him.

‘Mother.’ (Y/N) spoke up.

Everyone's attention fell on the princess.

‘I will take full responsibility for how long I was away, I underestimated how long the journey would take. These Vikings have done nothing to harm or even disrespect me, please.’

In awe Ivar watched as his Goddess-like intended bride dropped to her knees in front of the queen.

‘Allow me to marry him. I will follow our traditions precisely. I will hunt him a great beast, we will consummate our marriage in the caves. Just please let me marry Ivar.’ she pleaded.

‘You will leave with him...I will never see you again.’ The queen said with a calm voice, but a sad look set in her eyes.

‘She will.’ Ivar said.

Now the attention was stuck to the cripple, it made his heart beat faster in nervousness but he kept a straight face.

‘If she ever wanted to see you again I would not hold her back. I would grant her complete freedom; I would deny her nothing I could provide. You have my word...bleed me if it will assure you.’

‘No...I trust my daughter more than I distrust you. I will support this marriage.’ Queen Aza said.

‘As will I.’ the king agreed.

‘Me too.’ the young prince smiled.

A breath fell out of the princess’s mouth and in an instant the entire atmosphere changed in the throne room.

The queen inelegantly fell from the throne and threw herself into the arms of her daughter who was at her feet.

‘I missed you.’ she cried into her mother’s arms.

‘Not as much as I missed you, my child.’

‘Don’t forget me!’ the prince cheered as he jumped on the two.

While the Tunisians were showing their fondness for each other the Viking watched in interest. They had never seen the princess be so carefree, she had no walls up.

Ivar, as her intended, saw glimpses, but never like this.

Prince Ayo was on her back and she was spinning him around, the smile on her face was beautiful.

‘Well if there is no bad blood here, let us all actually introduce ourselves this time.’ the king said happily.

‘I am King Akashi, the powerful presence there is my wife Queen Aza and the little antelope is our first son Ayo. My step daughter told you nothing about us I expect.’

‘Of course not- let go you baboon!’ She said as her brother pulled on one of her hanging braids.

‘Already fighting, she hasn’t even been to her chambers yet, Ayo let her rest.’ Queen Aza ordered.

Once the siblings were both back on their feet Ragnar introduced his family.

‘My wife, Aslaug, and these are all our sons; Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd Snake in the Eye and Ivar the Boneless. Ivar of course will be the lucky one to marry into your family.’

For the first time Ivar felt the queen’s eyes focus fully on him. She had the same eyes as (Y/N) but her’s seemed older and wiser.

Ivar felt his hands begin to sweat as he tightened his hold on the crutches.

‘You bested my daughter?’ she said evenly.

‘I did.’

‘Do you feel your broken legs?’

At this he bit the inside of his cheek and took a quick breath before replying.

‘Yes, I feel every bone in my body, even the useless ones in my legs.’

‘She attacked them, didn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

This time she did not speak, but instead she walked to him and touched his cheek and looked directly in his eyes.

‘And still you bested her, you must be a great warrior to accomplish such a thing. I will be proud to wed her to you… Boneless Warrior.’

Ivar could do nothing to stop the sigh of relief that fell from his lips and he could do less to prevent himself from puffing up with pride at the Queen’s praises.

‘Good now, let us start our relations in good faith. Our servants will lead you all to your chambers once you have been settled in we can rejoin the festival.’ King Akashi announced merrily.

Ivar watched as the king called for the servants to take his family to see where they would be staying, but no one came to him.

‘Come.’ (Y/N) said as she began to walk out of the throne room, Ivar followed behind her as she led him through multiple corridors.

‘You will be staying in my quarters.’ she said as they approached a door.

‘My servants will be in soon to escort us after a few hours of rest. I’m sure you would like to rest on a bed that doesn’t move.’ (Y/N) suggested as she opened the door.

‘I would love that.’ Ivar said as his eyes landed on the bed.

A massive mattress with no frame sat in the center of the room, it was covered in more strange furs unlike any Ivar had ever seen. The furs were a strange orange with black stripes and the pillow seemed to be made of big white feathers.

The furniture was not nearly as impressive as what he had seen in the throne room, sure there was still gold trimmings and shining jewels in some pieces but it was clear that nothing was truly here to be impressive.

With no grace whatsoever Ivar lets himself fall onto the mattress, his crutches crashing noisily to the ground.

He heard the princess let out a small laugh at him, but he did not feel his ears burn the way they always did when he heard people laugh around him. He knew she was not laughing at him but at his antics.

‘I must say it is so strange that you can sleep in clothes.’ the princess said as she began to undress.

Considering how many times Ivar had seen it already at this point he should not have been so quick to roll over and watch her take off her clothes, but he was only human.

Once she was comfortable in nothing but her own skin she laid at Ivar’s side and began to run her fingers over his braids.

‘I also find your braiding so confusing.’ she said sleepily.

‘Why are my braids strange to you, I see they are a common style here.’

‘My braids are different, everyone’s braid is different, but I never saw anything like Viking braids before; yours are unreadable.’

He fought off his tiredness enough to sit up and begin to closely study her braids, which were much more complex than his own or any he’d seen on anyone other than the Tunisians.

‘You read hair?’

She looked up at him and nodded before pointing to her braids, gently rubbing a seashell that had been braided into her hair.

‘Seashells to show I live near the ocean; intricate design to show my status as a royal and all braids going down my back to keep out of my face when I fight to show that I am a warrior.’ she explained as she pulled Ivar closer to her.

‘Everyone’s braid is different.’ Ivar said

This time he got no reply as the princess was now sleeping in his arms, apparently she was a lot more tired than she had been letting on for his sake.

Ivar smiled as he too laid down to sleep as well, he sent up a prayer that he would dream of what style of braiding he would wear while visiting this new strange place.

Soon Ivar was being woken up by Trya and (Y/N)’s servants.

Trya had been smiling brighter than Ivar could ever remember seeing as she dressed him, she even seemed to hum softly.

‘What are you humming?’ he asked her, and he grinned at the reddening of her cheeks.

‘Nothing Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘A song of working, the servants tend to find ways of entertaining themselves while they go about their chores. I imagine she heard them singing while in the south wing of the palace.’ Princess (Y/N) informed as she was being dressed.

This made Ivar’s jaw drop in absolute shock.

‘Your servants sleep in the palace?’

‘It would be inconvenient if they had to travel to the palace to serve us and as servants they are promised shelter, food and pay. Of course we extended the hospitality to your…servants as well.’

‘You are paying her?’

Trya looked away as she continued to dress him a bit quicker.

‘Yes, does it upset you my Love?’ the princess asked.

‘Of course not.’ Ivar said this to his slave, letting her know she had done nothing to anger him.

‘I’m just always so amazed by your kindness and how far it spreads.’

He saw a smile cross over her face as she turned back to her own servants.

‘How much have they offered?’ he asked as his shoes were being put on.

‘…two gold coins every fortnight.’ Trya said with a shy but eager smile.

It seemed the old woman couldn’t help but tell him all of her new found pleasantries in this new country.

‘I have my own cot in one of the servant quarters, there are only three people in each one and they keep the men separated from the women if you ask. We even get to bathe before sunrise.’ she gushed almost childishly.

Now that she had said it Ivar did notice that she was in fact cleaner than he could recall her being in a while.

‘I am glad you are being treated well here, are the other thralls receiving the same treatment?’

‘Yes my Prince.’

Ivar nodded as he was given his crutches.

Now dressed, both he and the princess made their way to join the other royals in the throne room once more.

‘Are you looking forward to the festival?’ Ivar asked.

I am, I am excited to dance and play with my people. I did not realize how much I missed these familiar places.’

‘I hope the next time we return here, I will also find all your favorite places familiar as well.’ Ivar said as they walked.

‘When…we come back?’ (Y/N) asked.

‘I told you, I would never forbid you to come back home; but I also swore to be your husband. A husband should never send his wife away from him, he should not want to be away from her for too long.’

He leaned against a wall of the corridor they were walking down, once he was sure he was properly balanced he let go of one crutch and took her hand.

‘One thing I know to be true is that I never want to be without you, Warrior Princess (Y/N) of Tunisia.’

Ivar watched in awe as he saw something he never thought he would see.

Brown eyes filled with tears as the lips he so loved began to quiver. For a split second he was filled with panic; he hadn’t meant for her to cry.

‘I…my Love.’ she sobbed as she held Ivar’s face in both her hands.

‘My love is yours, Ivar the Boneless, Mighty Warrior of Kattegat. My love is yours…I love you.’ she said before kissing him.

No kiss they had shared held a candle to this one, it felt as if this was the kiss that bound them together in the eyes of both his Gods and her Spirits.

‘Princess.’

Quickly the princess jumped back and stared at Bintu as the guard smirked at them both.

‘The queen sent me for you, the other royals are waiting for you both to join the festival.’

‘Of course.’ the princess said elegantly, though with a higher pitched voice than her usual tone, before she handed Ivar his crutch and they both followed Bintu.

At last the royal party arrived at the beach and sure enough the festivities had not waited for them.

Men and women wearing yellow grass skirts and large matching headdresses were thrashing and jumping around a huge bonfire as musicians played instruments he had never seen. The only ones Ivar had no problem recognizing were the drums, and they were the loudest instruments being played.

‘Princess! Princess!’ the crowd chanted as they made a path.

Again the Vikings watched as nearly everyone greeted the Tunisian princess as a great friend; some kissing her hands or even her cheeks as they gave her congratulations on her safe travels and her betrothal.

All the while the drums were beaten in such a primal way that it alone seemed to increase Ivar’s heartbeat.

Then, when they all reached the raging bonfire the queen turned her back to flames and eyed the crowd. It seemed that was all she needed to do to get the dancers to stop and back up into the crowd.

She raised her arms and at once all instruments, with the exception of the drums, stopped.

It was almost unsettling for Ivar to see someone have such a strong presence.

‘My people! My beautiful brothers and sisters of the Great and Many Spirits, we are all here not just to celebrate my daughter’s safe return to our shores, but also to give her our blessings and support in her betrothal!’

The ground shook with the roaring of cheers and some warriors were banging their staffs and spears against the ground.

‘We feast to her! We ask that the Spirits to assist her in her Ceremonial Hunt! May she find a beast suitable to cloak her husband, Ivar the Boneless, the Pale Man of Norway! May the Great and Many protect their household!’

The crowd exploded in cheer and soon all the instruments began to play once more.

‘Dance! Dance for the Spirits! Let them move you!’

Just as Ivar went to ask (Y/N) what the queen was instructing the crowd to do he saw that she was not at his side. He looked around for her and saw that she had fallen in with the dancers.

Just as she had her first night in Kattegat she moved wild and fast as she spun and jumped around the fire, her arms swinging violently and her hips seemed to move however they pleased.

Even Queen Aza, who had just been almost god-like, was now dancing as best she could with her belly round with child.

The king and prince had done the same.

‘What are they doing?’ Aslaug asked as she watched the scene.

‘Just what it looks like, dancing to show appreciation to the Spirits and I suggest you all get to it as well. It is considered quite rude not to at least participate.’ Sven said before he sought out Bintu and began to dance alongside her.

‘You heard him dance!’ Ragnar laughed before he pulled his reluctant wife into the sea of bodies.

Ivar watched with discomfort as his brothers all joined in the festivities that he could never participate in.

‘Boneless!’

Ivar snapped around to see that Prince Ayo was dragging a drum over to him.

‘Your legs don’t move do they?’ the boy asked cheerily.

‘Not by themselves, why do you bring me this?’

‘So that you can play! Play for my sister…she will like it.’ Prince Ayo assured as he placed the drum right at Ivar’s feet.

Seeing as he could participate in no other way and he truly wanted to make a good impression Ivar sat aside his crutches and let his body drop into the sand.

‘I have never played any instrument before.’ he told his fellow prince.

‘You don’t play the drums, the spirits use you to play. Like this.’ Ayo smiled as he began to softly beat the drum.

‘Heartbeats, just hit in time with your heart that the Spirits keep beating. Soon your heartbeat will go faster as the Spirits carry the rhythm from you to her.’

Ivar looked over at his beloved Princess and suddenly he wanted more than anything to see her move to his own heartbeat.

Nervous at first he tapped the drum, the noise he made too small to be heard over the much louder musicians.

‘You have to hit harder, make her hear you.’

Ivar took a deep breath, and this time he hit with more force and sure enough it was louder. He saw that no one seemed to question the noise.

‘Keep going.’ Prince Ayo encouraged.

Ivar closed his eyes and began to hit the drum in sync with his heart, it was strange to him, playing an instrument. Still, it was quite enjoyable to do, he liked the feeling of hitting the drum and focusing on his heart instead of his forever pained legs.

Soon the sounds around him changed.

The other drums seemed to wade off and the other instruments soon went silent as well, now all he heard was his drum and the sound of sand being kicked around the bonfire.

When he opened his eyes he saw that only Princess (Y/N) was dancing and she was dancing with such vigor and passion it looked unreal for any human to move so fast.

Ivar was so enchanted watching he was unaware that while he was still beating in time with his heart with one hand, he had also begun a wilder rhythm with the other. Unaware of his own actions he stood no chance in noticing that the crowd had stopped moving entirely, the dancers and citizens all watched this moment between the crippled Norse prince and the beloved Tunisian princess.

Ivar beat his drum and watched the beautiful woman dance so intensely that at some point he had stopped breathing all together. It was already so intense that once he realized he needed to fill his lungs with air he had nearly fallen over.

He took in a great deep breath and, at last, his hands fell from the drums.

As Ivar sat in the sand, gasping for breath, Princess (Y/N) was even worse off; she had fallen to her knees in exhaustion from such rigorous dancing.

It was young prince Ayo who began the cheering, the noise making Ivar look up and see that the entire festival was applauding not only for (Y/N)’s dancing but for him as well. He looked and saw his own Viking family cheering for him.

His father had a smile on his face, a proud smile that Ivar had seen only enough times to count on one hand. His mother clapped slowly with a begrudging smile, as if to say she still didn’t like the situation but she was happy for her favorite son. Ubbe and Hvitserk were laughing merrily as they clapped, even Sigurd clapped for him.

‘Let us all be thankful for witnessing such true love, and let us continue our celebration into the night. For at sunrise….’ the queen announced, pausing as the last of the cheers died down.

‘At sunrise, Princess (Y/N) will begin her hunt for her husband’s cloak and she will not return without it.’

Ivar blinked as he looked up at the queen who was already instructing the other musicians to continue playing. His eyes found the princess approaching him and she, still catching her breath, sat at his side and rested her head on his shoulder.

‘What does she mean?’ he asked.

‘As she said, I must not return without a fit cloak for you.’ she said breathlessly.

‘And if you don’t find a beast fit for skinning?’

‘Returning empty handed is not an option; doing so would mean not only rejecting the marriage to you but it would dirty my name. No fighting man would marry a woman who refused to hunt for his cloak, it would show she was not willing to do what was required to provide for a husband.’ she said seriously.

Ivar did not like the idea of her being alone on a hunt, but he knew asking her not to go would only insult her.

He had no choice, he would have to sit back and allow Princess (Y/N) her own opportunity to prove herself as he had done in the Matrimonial Fight.

Placing a kiss on her forehead he said softly to her.

‘Be safe, I want you to return without a scratch and I want a very handsome cloak.’

‘I will bring you a cloak fit for the Norse Gods.’ she promised.