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.’
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Tracey’s Birthday Fic-a-Thon!
Hi everybody! I never did this before so excuse how lackluster this post looks.
For those who don’t know, I’m turning 15+16 on July 17th. I was wondering… if you have time of course, would write a some feel-good (or feel-angst) one shots, head cannons, or drabbles about some of my favorite men (& women) candy that I write or blog about.
Names include, but not limited to:
Lewis Tan:
Yahya Abdul-Mateen II:
Precious Lee:
Trevante Rhodes:
Monster Woo:
Jimin:
Chris Evans:
Winston Duke:
Henry Cavill:
(I had to give faces to names, sorry)
[Keep Reading]
I will list a few prompts and you can start there or freestyle, whatever floats your boat. I prefer romantic smut fics, but they don’t have to be. Just tag them as #ABirthdayFicforTre.
Prompts:
“I’m only baking a cake, what can go wrong?” *Everything goes wrong*
A birthday evening that turns into an wedding proposal
Birthday Baecation/Friendcation
“Surprise! Aye, where your clothes at?”
Karaoke night “Please stop singing for the love of God.”
“I made you a mixtape/playlist.”
Romantic walk on the beach
“Come get your cat!”
“Excuse me miss, I believe you stole my heart. May you please return it.”
Birthday massage
“I’ll help you with wash day babe.”
“I don’t want to go out, let’s stay in and cuddle.”
“I bought this and thought of you.”
“I was browsing online and I found this story you wrote about me.”
“I’m glad that I’m here with you.”
Indoor Nerf gun fight
The love interest’s dog leads them to my dog
“I’m only cooking dinner, what can go wrong?” *Everything goes wrong*
“Hey I’m lost, can you help me find where [whatever place you choose] is?”
Birthday shopping spree
“C’mon, let me do your makeup. It’ll look good I promise.”
Found log dog, returns it to the love interest/future friend
Love interest/ friend hears me singing in the shower and joins in
“I can take all the groceries in one trip, don’t worry.”
Loses phone at the park, love interest/future friend finds it & returns it to you.
“I love everything about you.”
“I know that you didn’t want anything for your birthday, but I got this for you!”
“Wanna watch a scary movie?”
“Your mom said I’m invited to the cookout so that’s why I’m here.”
With best friend at a sports game and the kiss cam comes and we kiss. We secretly crushed on each other.
Birthday pool party and Love interest/friend shows up unannounced.
Whatever you want. (except i*cest, race play, use of slurs, etc.) Just be respectful basically.
This is open to everyone, but I’m tagging the people that I often see write fics so if you wanna join, I’d love it! And I am all about no pressure, so submit when you can and shoot me a message/tag whenever. 😊
Tags: @royallyprincesslilly @tgigoldie @yaachtynoboat711 @randomwordprompts @muse-of-mbaku @cecereads209 @sheabuttahwrites @kittehkwrites @crushed-pink-petals-writes @ingeniousmindoftune @stargirlfics @celestianstars @pm-my-hubbies @liquorlaughslove @laketaj24 @fumbling-fanfics @natashacoco & whoever sees this.
Thanks in advance for making this the best birthday ever! 🥳😁
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