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nukyster-blog · 1 month ago

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𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖋 𝕬𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖘 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝕽𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 "𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘌𝘺𝘦" 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘐𝘷𝘢𝘳 "𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴" 𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯

(𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘱, 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵)

Alone. That was their rhythm, an unspoken dance played out time and time again. Locked in their silent battle within the walls of a war room, languishly batting the other, only proceeding to focus on their enemies after this melody had passed.

The wolf of Kattegat was no stranger to the simmering jealousy Aemond barely kept in check, the resentment beneath his polished restraint. Quite the ire of the dragon within him. And Ivar found it downright comedic. He wanted to savor it on his tongue, drink in Aemond’s fury and snuff out the flames. Which would only piss the prissy dragon, had he voiced.

"And yet, here you are, watching" Ivar crooned the last bit, amusement flickering in his icy colored blues. He pulled himself forward with practiced ease or at least that's how it appeared to the unsuspecting, bracing against the weight of iron. Rather than sitting, he chose to linger above Aemond. Ivar's fingers curled beneath Aemond’s chin, lifting it just enough to scrutinize with a glint, "Must I always do what, dear Aemond?"

Ivar had long noticed the way Aemond preened under his touch though the ivory prince would never admit. It was almost pathetic, the way Aemond masked his hunger for a tad of validation, keeping it tucked beneath his stiff demeanor. Trading swords, making it sing, was a normal activity, but even then, Aemond reacted like a cat, secretly soothed by the fleeting moments of bloodlust contact they blew. It should have been strange to Ivar, even off putting, the way Aemond responded in those flashes.

A man so unyielding, should not welcome another’s touch, especially hands laced of vice. And yet, Aemond absorbed such a touch like home. Granted, these occurrences slipped by the second, unworthy of too much thought.

Ivar had never been one to deliberately indulge him, not like today. No, these occasions were few and far between. Grinning as the Cheshire, Ivar watched as Aemond jerked his head free - slight hesitation prior. Then reclaiming his seat, fixing himself back into place like a doll.

"Alright, what of it? You realize the banter are just ploys" His voice containing feigned innocence as he wore a sharp smirk. Ivar's gaze bore down Aemond's, still looming over him, "Either I'm missing a detail or you're acting like a septa, to think I'd be eager by any of those numbskulls", he nonchalantly dismissed Aemond's rattled yet ebbed tone concerning Ivar's whispers of the ear to a select few in the council.

"Secrets are dangerous, no matter how small"? Ah, as if I hadn't know! Is that your angle here? No no… Can't be. You've got something heavier on your chest. What's got you oh so wound up?"

Ivar smirked, shifting in closer, hovering just above the crown of Aemond's silvered hair. He positioned himself deliberately to the side, cutting the invisible cord of their shared stare, forcing Aemond to crane his neck if he wanted to meet his gaze again. Then, in a slight of a hand, Ivar's gloved fingers threaded idly through a few strands of that pristine ivory. As if Aemond was really the doll he propped himself as.

"Now, tell me, are you accusing me of toying with a few in a not so seemingly way, princeling?"

Ivar couldn't shake the feeling that Aemond actually enjoyed these uncommon, isolated spectacles. Save for the muted coveting he pretended not to behave like.

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nukyster-blog · 1 month ago

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actual footage of me trying to find synonyms for every fucking word just so I don’t sound like an illiterate mf <3

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nukyster-blog · 1 month ago

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I love whoever made these harass edits. 😊😊

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nukyster-blog · 1 month ago

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Adrift Chapter 22) Never will, never have

Chapter 22) Never will, never have

.-.-.

Piglet slaughtered the boar; cooked a heavy stew of the organs, smoked pieces of the meat, and from its fur she made a haphazard attempt at assembling new trousers for Ivar. Most of his clothing had either been torn by the tusks or by Piglet as she’d saved his life.

The overall mood at their little camp was still tense, but bearable. The two young women hardly shared a word and, if so, it was an order by Piglet.

Yet, bearable, and Ivar had decided he was going to make the most of his condition. The moment Piglet’s dark eyes shot a smoldering glare toward Valerié, he’d stiffen his body and stifle a moan. Her indignant composure would easily evaporate and she would tend to his every need. Which, up until this point, consisted merely of either holding his hand or feeding him.

He could live with the babying for now, by the Gods, right now he was indulging in her care and gentleness. Just one more time, he’d tell himself, at least three times before supper.

Piglet’s devotion towards her faith did not go unnoticed; the three of them sat by the fire as the mouthwatering smells of roasted boar wafted into the air. Valerie had observed Piglet thoughtfully, slurping stew from a wooden bowl.

“You are eating berries,” the one kissed by fire affirmed.

“I am,” Piglet answered, the embers in her eyes glowing. She’d positioned herself aside Ivar and spoon-fed him boar’s stew.

Piglet’s growling stomach and meager meal hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ivar either, but he’d lived through enough holier-than-thou moments with her to touch the subject.

But Valerie unfortunately took the opportunity to be inquisitive: “why?”

A tirade about halal, Allah, and her true and utter devotion flourished until the poorly skinned meat caught on fire. A shared panic, attributed to the potential of a raging forest fire, encouraged collaboration from both female parties. Even if one handled the pressure better than the other. Piglet raked the stake out of the fire and started stomping on the burning piece of meat while Valerie bounced on the tips of her toes screaming bloody murder.

Ivar merely exchanged gazes with Utstott before the bird hopped over to the trampled piece of meat; an abundant meal for one small white raven.

“Now look at what you did!” Piglet exclaimed, slamming her fist into the direction of Utstott’s feast.

“What I did?!” Valerie jutted her chin toward, and clapped her hands on her hips.

Piglet’s body swayed towards Ivar, still vividly gesturing to the spoiled meat. When his response lacked words; his eyes bounced from one woman to the other and back, jaw slightly ajar. Piglet let out a frustrated grunt, resolutely turned on her heels, and marched into the fortress of trees.

Well, milking his way out of this was a good strategy for at least half the day.

.-.-.

Although the hostility lingering over their camp hadn’t completely dissipated; Ivar had to say he was content that his blood hadn’t spilled for nothing. Piglet huffed deliberately loud but ignored Valerié who on her turn refused to get her hands dirty and focused on untangling her hair and getting dirt from underneath her nails.

Ivar remained comfortable at the ox cart wheel and ate his fill of freshly killed boar. Chewing on a tough piece of meat, he thought with melancholy about the previous part of his enemy he’d eaten; the heart of the Giant.

Utstott must've somehow understood why Ivar’s torn lip morphed into a sinister smile. The bird, eaten so fat he struggled to flutter off cackled; an almost human laughter.

A few days passed, which Ivar used to eat, sleep and heal enough to be fit for travel.

Piglet squeezed his shoulder lightly after both maidens hoisted him into the back of the cart.

“Soon we don’t need her anymore,” she whispered in his ear. In response Ivar nodded sheepishly with a blank face until Piglet settled behind the reins. Then his face dropped as he watched Valerié collect the last bits of their belongings. Her body was more voluptuous then Piglet’s and she wore all her beauty with sheer confidence, showing her wares with every strutt.

He knew that what he felt for her was plain physical attraction; but did that matter? He’d suffer through the Giant’s flogging or another boar attack all over again just to find himself back between her thighs.

No, he wasn’t ready to lose Valerié just yet, even if it meant he’d be the one who’d be kissed by fire; one slip of her lips and Piglet would know he wasn’t Ivar half-a-man.

“Let’s get out of this shithole,” Valerié complained and as she puffed down next to Piglet, “and find some civilization.”

.-.-.

He wasn’t drunk, but his battered body contained enough alcohol to make his muscles ease and his head feel foggy. The combination of ale and the toll it took on his body to recover lapsed him in and out of consciousness. His head and feet lulled from side to side on the steady rhythm of the oxes. Ivar felt strangely rooted inside the cart and was almost afraid to even think about it; he felt content.

For a while the only sounds came from the forest; mainly birds and little insects. Ivar listened thoughtlessly, occasionally opening the water sack for some more ale.

Then Valerié gasped and exclaimed as their cart broke through the line of trees. Her thrill was born of relief; situated at the heart of a plain drained by two small converging rivers lay a walled city. Surrounded by small settlements, the place reminded Ivar a bit of Dorenstad, a city he’d rather forget.

Soon he learned the name of the walled city; Dijon, famous for its wine, according to Valerié. As the oxes trotted on, Valerié's excitement was contagious. As the woman kissed by fire summoned all her knowledge of the city, Piglet made their cart accelerate.

Such a large city meant one thing; a proper Inn, food, a decent bed, and a hot bath.

And for once, they had silver to pay for all of it. Plus, a fellow traveler who spoke the language of the inhabitants.

Ivar’s blissful bubble popped as his brain tried to recollect when it was the last time he had a proper bath, considering the one he took inside the tavern Valerié had worked. Before, before his life as a slave, before being stripped of his royal title. During his entire ordeal inside the walls of the Castle de Haar he’d never been granted more than a bucket of cold water to clean himself with. After escaping, he and Piglet had been either on the run or surviving. Wolves, bandits, mosquitoes and quite recently, boars. Never a true moment of rest.

Ivar honestly could not remember the last time he’d felt fully clean, when there wasn’t any dirt underneath his ripped nails.

Through his lids he stared at the dirty feet swaying by the same rhythm of the oxes, Piglet’s sols were callous enough to walk any type of surface. Dirty, she’d been dirty since the day she’d met him.

Ivar swallowed a lump and reached for his ale again ashamed that it hadn’t dawned on him before, that his trial in the walls of the Haar were a fraction of the years and years Piglet had been suffering, mainly alone; wrapped in rags and stench.

He never asked her how long she’d been enslaved; from time to time the question had circled inside his head. But he never asked, not even now. He rather not bring up the subject. For once; knowing Piglet she’d rather cut off her tongue then answer. And second; he couldn’t bring himself to think of how her life had been before the Giant chained him up inside the stable.

Alone, she must have been alone for quite a while. Her only ‘friend’ being falsely accused of witchcraft and burned alive; the rest of the inhabitants shunning her for her skin color. Teerkind, tarchild; the name the linen maidens had branded upon her. She’d been an outcast and, aside from the animals inside the stable, no-one wanted to be close with such wildling.

Except for one person.

Ludolf de Haar.

By the Gods the ecstasy of ripping off that bastard’s jawbone.

Although eating the heart of the Giant had been a personal victory, caving in Ludolf’s face with his own jaw had been vengeance on a whole different level.

The Giant had been Ivar’s personal tormentor; nearly drowning him in a well, almost cutting off his right hand; all the useless beatings, the punishments. He’d barely survived forty minus one lashes of the whip. The brute had humiliated him countless times, made him shed tears, blood, and sweat.

But the Giant had been an opponent; one who Ivar strangely respected; hence he’d eaten his heart.

Ludolf had never shared that position. He hadn’t been Piglet’s opponent. No, he was her worst nightmare. Men.

From time to time, Ivar would dream of destroying Ludolfs face; that lopsided smile ripped apart by his fingers.

But in those dreams, he’d never see the destruction of Ludolf through his own eyes. No, he’d watch himself in the act, from a few feet afar, craning over his own shoulders. And it had taken him a while to realise who’s point of view he’d see; Piglet.

And all she saw were two completely opposite abominations of men; both carrying a different mortal sin.

Ivar hated Ludolf more than the Giant; because Ludolf took something from Piglet. And because of that Ivar knew he could never have what he wanted from her. “Why do you keep looking at me?!” Piglet snapped, agitated, and it took Ivar a moment to realise she hadn’t directed her snarl towards him. Through his lids he watched Valerie brush her hair back behind her ear, gazing contemptuously at Piglet: “I’m simply trying to establish what’s so special about you and worth dying for,” she scrunched up her nose, giving Piglet a long look-over and a dejected shrug, “I can’t see it mon petite, you have a pretty face, but so do many other femmes. You stink, are obnoxious, short-tempered, thick-headed. And I know for a fact that you don’t spread your legs. So, I honestly can’t understand why he loves you so feverishly.”

A sound escaped the back of Piglet’s throat, her shoulders shot up and her back became rigid as a board.

Ivar felt his heart pound with such a ferocity that he felt like it would beat straight through his chest. Fighting a rising panic he kept his eyes shut, falsely pretending to be asleep.

“Oh don’t tell me you’ve never given it a thought,”Valerie continued smugly when Piglet failed to speak, “did it never dawn on you before that the poor crippled fool in the back is utterly and completely devoted to you?”

“You’re a whore,” Piglet sounded as if air had been knocked out of her lungs, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what I am and that’s exactly why I know what I’m talking about, you blind stupid girl. Believe me when I tell you I’ve seen the degradation of men the moment their cocks take over their brains. I endure their lust, their hunger and will myself through all the filthy things they want me to do. But… bordel de merde… his face will forever wear the scars of that boar. If that’s not the most honorable thing a man can do for love I don’t know what is.”

Valerie’s word cut Ivar deep and it strung up a fear that unmanned him. His heart lurched and he wished it was from anger, but truth be it; it scared him to death that Valerie had been able to cut him right open and put it out on display.

Piglet wasn’t supposed to know he’d give up his life for hers in a heartbeat. And how he wished he could take it to his grave.

But now, the love he bore for her lay out in the open and it left Piglet at a loss for words.

“I fucked him, you know?” Valerié snorted and let out a dry laugh, “I fucked him and he still wants you, an enigma, the both of you.”

Panic seized his brain and he shot up, eyes wide open in an attempt to calculate the damage of Valerié’s last confession. “No…” Piglet’s voice was numb with shock, slowly tending toward him.

A nameless dread engulfed his chest and clawed it’s way up into his throat when he noticed how terror stole her words and how she cowered back as she saw him for what he truly was and always had been.

A man.

Panic flared in her eyes and then they rolled all the way back.

.-.-.

A/N: So… this chapter did not go as I had planned but gosh am I happy it didn’t! It’s been a very long time since I’ve been able to write and although Ivar and Piglet live rent free in my mind, I truly did miss putting their story into actual words. So, what I personally like about this chapter is how in the previous one Ivar came to terms with the fact that Piglet managed to build him back up, into a better version of himself (yay, took me a while but yay Ivar-redemption-arc!) and in this one knows that his feelings for her will never be answered equally. And then Valerié drops the F bomb and honestly I’m not sure how the two of them will be able to recover from this.

Anyways, I’d be happy to read your thoughts!

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

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@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

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#ivar the boneless #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar oc #youtube

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