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conaionaru · 3 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

I can be your enemy

Synopsis: The aftermath of Aslaug’s death leaves Vanya shaken and hollow while the brother’s talk of revenge and Hoenir tries to recover

Warnings: little bit of badass Vanya, angst, talk of revenge, depression, manipulation,

Tags: @didiintheblog @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @thereareendlessopportunities @xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @youbloodymadgenius @lol-haha-joke @heavenly1927 @shannygoatgruff @buckysjuicyplums

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

Vanya felt like a passenger in her own body. As if someone tore a part of her soul out and left the body behind to carry on living. Ivar and Aslaug were dead. Ivar drowned out on the sea just like Aslaug saw, and the woman herself was murdered in cold blood.

How happy Vanya was in her new life, so content with what she gained. Maybe this was God's punishment for turning her back on him and the religion. Vanya couldn't voice how she felt. It was as if all her happiness was ripped out of her and replaced with sadness and anger—neither big enough to fill the hole, leaving her partially empty.

Her son was all that was left of her new life; the babe was more vocal about his feelings. Since they moved into the Ragnarsson's hunting hut, Aros has been crying and screaming non-stop.

And no matter what she tried, he just kept on being upset. Never before did she feel this useless as a mother, not even able to ask anyone for help. Ubbe and Sigurd arguing about revenge weren't helping either.

"She never loved us. She only loved Ivar. Oh, yeah, and Harbard. Yes, she loved Harbard, all right. She made a fool of herself loving him. You should have seen her!"

"Ah, you forget I did see," Ubbe replied to his brother. His face looking horrifying from the beating he took earlier.

Sigurd moved closer to the fire, looking at his brother in earnest. "Do you think Harbard was a god? Was he a god, Ubbe? Or just a man?"

Ubbe took a deep breath to compose himself and looked away from his younger brother. "He took advantage."

"I guess that doesn't matter either way."

"She was still our mother!" The eldest Aslaugsson reminded him sternly. Done with Sigurd's attitude towards the late Queen.

Moving back, he looked down at his hands, his eyes misty and voice sad. "By the end she was a stranger to me."

"Was she a witch?" Vanya scoffed at the ridiculous question ignoring their questioning looks.

"We'll never know."

With the help of his axe, the injured Viking got to his feet, groaning in pain from the various cuts and bruises. "Ah, well... Lagertha must pay the price."

"Let Ivar kill her if he wants to."

"If he's still alive." Ubbe watched his sister in law stiffen as soon as the words left his lips. Proving his theory might be true.

"What?"

"Both our parents may be dead. We may have just become orphans, Sigurd." Laughing, Sigurd leaned back on the furs around the fire. "What are you laughing at?"

"Our father isn't dead, Ubbe. Ragnar Lothbrok can't die."

"Dead or not, it doesn't matter." Vanya finally spoke up, pulling Aros away from her breast and fixing her dress. "Aslaug must be avenged, if not for the fact that she was your mother then for your honor. You keep reminding everyone that you are the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. But you hide here like a coward. You are letting Lagertha get away with it."

Sigurd rolled his eyes at her, not bothering to hold back despite her glare. "She is surrounded by shieldmaidens who already beat Ubbe once. How are we supposed to fight her?"

"With an army. Aslaug was a Götaland Princess; I am sure there are people loyal to her, ready to aid her sons on their quest to revenge. You are the only ones who can do what's right by her memory." Vanya pressed on desperately, kneeling next to Sigurd's frame by the fire.

"What about Ivar? Don't tell me you think he is dead too? I pegged you as the last one to give up on him."

Vanya sat back on her heels with a sigh and looked at her hands as Aros crawled up next to her, whining for attention. "He is not here, but you two are. We need to gather an army in the shadows. Keep Lagertha on her toes, but don't look like too much of a threat to her."

She could have told them what Aslaug saw happen to both Ragnar and Ivar. But they had enough grief for now. Let them focus on avenging Aslaug first; they can do as they chose about Ragnar's death later.

Sigurd scoffed and pointed at the panting seer on their furs. Unconscious and beaten, Hoenir looked like a shadow of what he once was. The shieldmaidens would pay for that too. He was more to Vanya than a protector; he was her friend. And his current state would be avenged as well.

"Look what they did to Hoenir! Do you really think that Lagertha will let us live? We will be watched like prisoners in our home. Just because it was once her home too." Sigurd spat out again, annoyed with the topic. He didn't want to waste his life on revenge and bloodshed.

He hoped Vanya would understand his point; after all, she was a pacifist. And now suddenly she was as bloodthirsty as Ivar. "Are you sure you want to spill blood for Mother? If I do as you wish, will you be able to stomach the battles and bloodshed?"

"If it means doing what's right... I will stab the bitch myself." Vanya confessed, her voice hard and eyes like steel. Ubbe watched his sister in law and nodded in agreement.

"Then, it is decided. Lagertha will fall." He raised his cup for a toast and looked down at his brother. "Right Sigurd?"

With a reluctant sight, Sigurd raised a cup towards him. "May her reign be short."

Vanya tended to Hoenir the rest of the night. The tall man was feverish and mumbling in his sleep; the words were hard to understand, so she ignored them. Dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a wet cloth was all she could do right now—hoping that he will survive the night.

When Sigurd woke the next morning, it was to the sight of Lagertha's lover sitting on one bed. He kicked his brother awake, startling the sleeping princess as well. Her head rose from Hoenir's bedside, Aros whining in his crib as well.

"What?"

"Oh, do not get up. I am Astrid." The black-haired shieldmaiden replied cooly, watching Vanya push the now awake Hoenir back down. The wanderer suffered many wounds, and Lagertha was certain that he would die because of them. What a surprise to see him up and ready to fight. A strange man indeed.

The brothers exchanged a look, not at all alerted by the intruder in their hut. "We know who you are." Sigurd reminded her, confused by her introduction. "But why are you here?"

Astrid folded her legs over each other and cupped her hands on her knee. "One day, I would like to change the way you look."

Everyone watched her, confused and sleepy. And definitely not in the mood for small talk with the enemy. "What?"

"I am making it my business to make friends with the sons of Ragnar." She trailed her eyes over to Vanya and her glare. "And his grandson and daughter in law as well, of course."

Ubbe smirked in the same way his father does and scoffed at the big reveal. "Forgive me, Astrid. But I am afraid that we..."

"Yes. You should be afraid." Astrid cut him off, all playfulness and charm gone. "That's what I came to tell you. If you touch a hair on Lagertha's head... You are dead men."

Astrid rose to leave as Ubbe watched her amused, and Sigurd's confusion hit the roof. Meanwhile, Vanya wished to see Astrid and the rest of Lagertha's entourage to drop dead. Including the treacherous Torvi that nearly killed Hoenir and probably passed the bow to the new Queen of Kattegat to kill Aslaug.

Ubbe threw his cup against the door to stop her. "Do you really think that if I am not afraid of Lagertha, then I would be afraid of you?" Astrid glared at him, offended by his lack of fear and respect for Lagertha.

"Leave, bitch!" Ordered Vanya standing over Hoenir with a sword in hand. The seer's blade was heavy for her untrained hands, her whole arm shaking.

Astrid rolled her eyes at the ginger's theatrics and pointed her finger towards the weapon. "Put the blade down before you hurt yourself, Princess." The last word was spat out in a patronizing way, the same way Silas used to call her - sister. "You don't know how to use it."

"Maybe not." She shrugged her shoulders, smiling cheerfully before the grimace fell from her face. "But I know that if I push the pointy end in deep enough, I will finally have some peace and quiet. So leave before I try my hand in fighting."

The older woman shook her head in humor and raised her arms in the air. "I am unarmed. From what I heard, you wouldn't harm a defenseless woman. Your kind heart doesn't allow it."

"If it befits a queen, why not me? Maybe I will let you turn your back to me as well." Vanya spat, reminding Astrid that she is a threat as well. Lagertha made the wrong enemy by killing Aslaug. The Queen's sons might forget, but Vanya never would. She was of the House of the Raising Sun, and they never forgot. "And don't concern yourself with my gentle heart. It turns vicious when challenged. Ask my brother of what consequences that holds."

With that, Astrid left, slamming the door behind her. The young mother dropped Hoenir's sword to pick her son up and soothe him. "What happened to keeping a low profile?"

She turned her back to the door and frowned at Ubbe. "I am honoring your mother's memory, showing them that I am not afraid or week. I am Vanya of the Raising Sun. Only living heir to Osmond, King of Slegia and Wrosan. I am the wife of Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok. I bore him a grandson, and I will not be bested by a greedy old crone and her mouthy lover."

Vanya stomped out of the hut, Sigurd watching her go, still half asleep. They looked at Hoenir, who snorted in amusement. "You take one nap, and all of a sudden, Vanya turns into mini Ivar."

Hoenir hit the target over and over, his anger flaring with every strike he made. "Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough." The words echoed around in his mind, trapping him in a prison of self-hate and dissapointment.

His wounds screamed in protest as the blisters on his hands opened and bled. But the pain didn't matter. He failed to do his duty, and Aslaug died because of it. What if the usurper decided to kill Vanya and Aros as well? Then his journey would have been for naught, and all his promises of protection just empty words.

Hoenir needs to get better, stronger, and more reliable. So no one could defeat him again. The Gods had a plan for him; everybody said so since he was a small boy. Did he become too comfortable that they chose to punish him? Or was it just a coincidence that he was reading into too much?

"For someone who has been up for two days, you are working too hard. Carry on like this, and you will drop dead!" Vanya's tired voice was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. The princess has been nagging him about his health since the day Hoenir woke up to see Astrid in the hut.

She cared for him, and as nice as it was, it was also very distracting. His duty laid with keeping her alive, not himself. With a fleeting glance towards the hut, he saw her leaning against the door frame in her nightgown. Her red hair was down, and a little bit messy from sleep.

Sigurd walked up behind her, lacing up his breeches while eating bread. The Ragnarsson looked like a mess as well, but his hair was always hard to look at, so Hoenir ignored it. "How long have you been up?"

"Hard to say. I woke in the night." Vanya frowned at the reply and walked over the damp grass towards him. Lowering his sword, he tried to scold her for walking around barefoot but got dragged into the hut instead.

"I have no time for this, Vanya. I need to train."

"You can train later! If you open your wounds, who knows if you survive them. I won't see you die, Hoenir." The ginger scolded him kneeling down in front of him with a wet cloth to clean his bloody palms.

Ubbe sat by the table, holding a squirming Aros in his knee. The Ragnarsson's face had linen with herbs under to make the swelling of his face go down faster. "As much as we are happy to see you back in fighting spirit. Why the rush? We agreed to wait and make a plan first."

Hoenir scoffed and looked down at his calloused hands with the bloody scabs. "I was beaten so easily. All it took was three arrows, and they had me at their mercy. If they slit my throat, I would be dead by now."

"If you keep this up, you will be dead in a fortnight." Sigurd reminded him, looking at the barely healed scar on his shoulder.

"Maybe that's the punishment I deserve for being a failure. An unhonorable death that will ban me from Valhalla."

The slap that hit him in the face stung, but the pain felt good. He deserved to suffer far worse for letting Aslaug die. The woman believed him when he told her about his destiny of protecting Vanya. She practically saved him from dying by Ivar's hand. All the hospitality and trust she had given him, he repaid by letting her die.

"I understand some of what you feel but don't say those things. I command you to think better of yourself. No one is to blame but that blonde bitch and her minions."

"Vanya is right. Torvi impaled you with arrows; they knocked you out. At least you fought back. If anyone's to blame, then it is me. We let ourselves be fooled and seduced. I stayed behind to protect my mother and failed." Ubbe rasped out, glaring into his second cup of the day.

Hoenir shook his head and hanged his head in shame. "I was supposed to be at your door. Keeping you safe just like I promised I would. You slept in Aslaug's bed. If I stayed by your side, I could have prevented her death."

Sigurd sighed at the self-hate talk of his friend. For someone so quiet, he had a lot of bad things to say about himself. "No one will blame you for sleeping in your home, Hoenir."

"That's not it..." He trembled as the words left his mouth, leaving a new wave of shame over him. "I wasn't there because I spent the night in someone's bed."

Sigurd snorted at that and put a reassign hand on his healthy shoulder. "So did we. But we weren't so secretive about it. Whose bed was it?"

"His name is Leifr."

The room grew quiet as they watched the seer's shirtless hunched over frame. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white and shaking. "Ah, that explains his looks at you. He looks pretty enough." Sigurd shrugged it off, not caring if his friend liked men or not.

Hoenir looked up from his lap to meet eyes with the Ragnarsson, who gave him a reassuring smile in return. "You... aren't disgusted by me?"

"Why the hell would we? You like men Hoenir, not corpses." Ubbe snorted at his brother's retort and raised his cup in a silent toast of approval. Even Vanya smiled at the wanderer in compassion. If he expected backlash from anyone, it would be a former Christian.

"We all like different things. And sometimes it is hard to explain why we want the people we like. I love a violent man with mood swings, and you like men in general. Ubbe, Sigurd, and Hvitserk sleep with the same woman. One judges any of us, why should they judge you?"

"Skol, to that!" Sigurd called out as everyone sipped from their cups. Hoenir is sitting there stunned looked at them in disbelief.

"So... you won't throw me out? Shun me?"

"You are our friend," Sigurd explained nonchalantly.

"Practically, family." Added Vanya in glee, picking up Aros in her arms to feed him.

"We do not know who made you reluctant to tell us. But we don't care at all. Do what you like or whoever you like. So do we. Right, Sigurd?" The brothers nodded at each other as Hoenir swallowed to ease his dry throat and thanked them in return. Taking a cup from the oud player's hands, he downed the whole thing in one gulp.

The last time he had told anyone that he was into men, he had been thrown out of his home. Ever since then, he wandered the earth, trying to find a place to fit in. After years of trying, he settled for following the will of the gods and hiding his secret from everyone.

Leifr had no problem hiding his true nature, and when he saw Hoenir talking with Sigurd, he came to steal him away. At first, they just talked, and later on, the talking led them to Leifr's bed.

The boy kept their meetings a secret, and at Hoenir's request, stayed away from where they could be seen. For someone who had no problem being called an Ergi, he was very considerate of his lover's feelings.

After breakfast, Vanya went out with Aros to take care of something; she and Hoenir talked pleasantly. The seer's mind was still in turmoil from earlier, but slowly the tension left his body, and a small shred of happiness took its place.

"I have plans for today."

"And what might those be?"

Vanya smirked at the innocent question, her smile a little bit mocking. "I am honoring Aslaug's memory."

"And how will you do that?"

"Wait and see."

Ubbe and Sigurd sat in Lagertha's hall, drinking her mead and scheming. The woman looked too comfortable on their mother's throne. And if their plans came to be, Ubbe would be the new king of Kattegat.

The boy wasn't all that interested in the crown, but as the oldest of Aslaug's sons, it was rightfully his. Sigurd had no taste for revenge or ruling, and Hvitserk was more of an explorer than a diplomat. Ivar was too young and ill-tempered to sit where their father once sat.

Out of all of Aslaug's sons, Ivar is probably the most hellbent on avenging their mother. Telling him of their mother's demise when he returns means Lagertha's certain death. But if he were to rule, only the gods know what would happen to their home.

Vanya might be able to lessen his temper, but ruling and raising children is a hard business. Ubbe saw it break his mother; he wouldn't wish the same fate upon his sister. She also told Stithulf that she had no desire to rule anyway. So leaving the killing and crown to Ivar would mean chaos. As the oldest, it was his responsibility to avenge Aslaug and take over ruling Kattegat.

When Sigurd opened his mouth to tell Ube something, a commotion from outside cut him off. Everyone's heads turned towards the door where the noise was coming from. "All hail the rightful Queen." "Gods protect her!" "Thank you for everything!" "Long may she live!"

The people yelled from outside, causing Lagertha to smile at all the praise she was getting. "How quick they are to turn against mother," Ubbe growled in distaste, rising to see the crowd outside.

Lagertha stood up as well, excited to see her loyal followers. But when the doors to the Great hall opened, the crowd had its backs turned to her. Instead, they applauded someone in the middle of the group who was giving out something. With a furrowed brow, Lagertha and the Ragnarssons watched the people.

"That's Hoenir!" Whispered Sigurd to his brother, pointing to the middle of the crowd. And true enough, the seer stood there stoic as ever, surrounded by cheering citizens.

"Thank the gods for you!"

"May the gods give you many more children!"

"All hail the Princess!"

"All hail the rightful Queen of Kattegat!!"

Ubbe scoffed in amusement at the second to last sentence; it was obvious who the cheers were meant for. Vanya stood in the crowd handing out bundles of food, coin, and clothes. Smiling at everyone and wishing them well.

"People of Kattegat! I swear to you that no matter what may come, I will always stand by your side! You shall not hunger or freeze as long as I have the means to help you!"

The crowd cheered out Vanya's name, calling her a gift from the gods. But the most memorable part was that more people named her their rightful Queen. Lagertha looked like she might implode from anger.

But Vanya didn't correct them once; she only continued to gift them with things and wish them well. She talked to the people and hugged their children. The longer she stood there, the more people seemed to love her.

"I sweat it on the gods! Just because the Queen's dead doesn't mean that I will stop helping you. Nothing has changed. May Thor strike me dead if I am laying!"

A child ran up to Vanya, asking her to be picked up. Vanya called the child by name and lifted the girl into her arms, and kissed her temple. The smile on her lips turned into a scowl when her eyes met Lagertha's. The princess spat on the ground in distaste and turned back to the people to entertain the crowds.

Ubbe smirked next to Sigurd and slapped him on the shoulder. "Keep her on her toes."

The younger Ragnarsson smirked as well and shook his head. "She also said we should stay in the shadows. Not blatantly question her authority."

"Driving her insane and insecure might do the trick as well." Lagertha walked towards the younger female, looking like a murderer on the loose. Which she, ironically enough, actually was.

The shieldmaidens shooed the crowds away, Lagertha meeting Vanya in the middle, only Hoenir by her side. "For someone so young, your memory isn't the best."

"Why do you think so?" The ginger feigned innocence and obliviousness. Acting as if she wasn't trying to undermine Lagertha's rule moments ago.

"The Queen isn't dead. I am right here." The blonde's face hid anger behind a friendly facade. "And you aren't the queen either."

Vanya shrugged her shoulders and raised a mocking eyebrow. "I never claimed I was."

"You didn't correct them either."

"They were screaming so many things, and I was so busy handing out resources. I can't correct so many people as well."

Lagertha clenched her teeth and gave the ginger a tight-lipped smile. "And did you get the coin and the food? How did you buy all these things?"

With ease, Vanya drew a letter from beneath her corset; it bore the seal of Slegia. "When my mother requested Silas's body, she didn't ask for the gold or jewelry as well. So I had the liberty to use it; however, I wanted to."

"I will not have you challenging me, Vanya. You no longer hold any power. Remember that and stay in your place."

Vanya smirked slyly the way Aslaug used to and shrugged mockingly. "If you truly think that, then you are the one whose wits left them."

The ginger left the Queen behind as she joined her brother's in law on the Great Hall's steps. Ubbe drew her to his side, and with an arm around her shoulder, he led her back to their hut to gloat. Brynja joined the quartet with Aros in her arms, scolding the princess for her stunt.

#vikings #history vikings #vikings imagine #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar x oc #original character #original female character #ivar imagine

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masterwcrk · 3 years

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the old guard (repost, re-tooled). fandom verse.

verse: ☆ ❛ not meant to be alone ❜ || verse. ( au. — the old guard ) sub-verse: ☆ ❛ like from the ashes (1813) ❜ || verse. ( au. — the old guard ) status: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE, interaction by request canon: netflix's the old guard location: various, thread dependent age range: 16-26, thread dependent. note: alternate plotting available for old guard canon & oc muses! (especially Andy & Quynh)

she always remembers things out of order. sometimes it’s the crash of the waves on a distance Grecian shore as her ship careens down into darkness & the water swallows her whole. sometimes it’s being burned at the stake after running from an arranged marriage.

it never lasts but more than an instant - each of those lifetimes cut short by the snap of the threads of fate. there’s only ever the single constant across each of her lifetimes; the motley band of immortals that always seem to find her, or whose path she seems to continually wander into in each & every lifetime.

perhaps another constant is her art. in each lifetime, she finds a new medium or finds a way to refresh another. in this lifetime? it's finally time to return to a classic. Clary works as an artist & travels wherever her feet take her - retracing timeworn paths in the hopes of finding that one missing piece that will spark the return of her memory one more time, so the cycle can start anew.

her first lifetime, long ago in the 13th century BCE, had started her down this path - originally traded as a slave in the greco-roman empire, clary won her freedom & came into service at the temples to take up the mantle of pythia. she would spend several lifetimes in service to the temples as an oracle, each time being reborn & re-installed in the temples while her tenure stretched across the expanse of the ancient world. when her time as the orator of the gods came to a close in 393 CE, she was set free into time, unanchored this time. (1300 BCE until 393 CE.)

she would resurface later in the 6th century, marrying Arthur & overseeing the installation of the round table. She would go on to give him two sons - Amr, & Mordred, but Amr dies tragically of pneumonia. her husband dies, & she lives long enough to see her youngest crowned as his successor before passing away, herself. (500- 540s CE)

The next time the immortals would dream of her wouldn't be until the late 700s, & this time she would taken on a very different incarnation. as the Götaland princess Aslaug, the third wife of the viking hero Ragnar Lothbrok, she's kept her mantle of that of an oracle, becoming one of the legendary völva that guided her people & her husband to victory. she would die at the hands of his first wife, Lagertha, at the age of forty one after bearing her husband four children. she was survived by two of her sons, & a grandson. (770s-810s CE.)

her fourth arc begins under the reign of King Henry VIII in the early 1500s. there, she would rise in the ranks of the nobility, keeping a careful balance to stay involved, but out of the way so as to not raise suspicion for the gift of prophecy still running through her veins. It was during this time that her memories started to come back more slowly, & later. Where as the dreams had started just days before her sixteenth birthday in previous lifetimes, this time they held off but only enough that she didn't think anything of it. (early 1500s - mid 1500s).

her fifth arc took her out of her comfort zone, living the life as a pirate under the name Anne Bonny & exploring the seven seas as she enjoyed a level of freedom she hadn't had in centuries. like her previous lifetime, the dreams started up again later - making her 20 before she dipped her toes into the world of her well-loved immortals, much less remembered their faces & names.

the 1800s would see her sixth incarnation, returning to familiar ground in regency london as the daughter of the contentious & regrettably deceased LORD MORGENSTERN.

(see: like from the ashes verse for more info. 1797 until 1830s).

her final arc brings her to the modern era, where she works as an artist in Manhattan. when in previous lifetimes they had dreamed of her starting on her sixteenth birthday, this time a full decade has already passed. she's well established in the art community for her breathtakingly realistic renderings of historical sites, as well as her knack for predicting where important art-related historical artifacts might present themselves. her memories are tenuous at best, & slow to return, & it's not until a chance encounter with someone thought long-gone that everything starts to fall back into place.

a typical note, I generally accept the canon of Quynh kidnapping one of the immortals as outlined in Forces Multiplied, but on my case I either list it as Clary & Booker, or Clary instead of Booker, with her dying via drowning before the rest of the immortals get there. this is typically what kickstarts her true immortality instead of her cycle of reincarnation. I’m open to alternate plotting for this, however! this verse is just a guideline.

#☆ verse intro. → fandom verses #☆ ❛ my plans are not terrible ❜ || verse introduction #☆ ❛ not meant to be alone ❜ || verse. ( au. — the old guard )#repost

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conaionaru · 4 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

You are my everything

Synopsis: Some pregnancy fluff, cute Ivar and good future grandma Aslaug.

Warnings: fluff, angst, cute Ivar

Tags

@youbloodymadgenius @shannygoatgruff @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @queenbeeta @lol-haha-joke @didiintheblog

P.S. Everything in cursive is in Old Norse. Flashback are in bold and cursive.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it.

Vanya walked the streets with Aslaug by her side, as Brynja was off today cause her father grew sick. The two women walked by the forge where Ivar hammered steel and watched them pass by. Aslaug chuckled at his antics and apologized on his behalf. Vanya liked this side of Aslaug.

Mostly when she saw the Queen, she had a cup in hand or asked her intrusive questions. But ever since her belly grew bigger, Aslaug held back on the alcohol. She spent more time with Vanya and shared tales from her own pregnancies. The Queen of Kattegat also told her of Ragnar. Vanya decided she wasn't that fond of the man who left his infant son in the woods to die. What kind of monster would do that? He didn't raise any of his sons properly; Bjorn left with his mother, and Ragnar abandoned his other sons. Vanya may not know his motives or him, but she felt for the Ragnarssons.

"When you are more along, we can find out if it will be a girl or boy. Or do you want it to be a surprise?" Aslaug questioned curiously, looking down at the cheerful redhead.

Vanya pursed her lips in thought before smiling. "I think I want it to be a surprise. Did you know they would be all boys?"

Aslaug nodded, seeing Hvitserk walking with Ubbe while stuffing his face till he looked like a squirrel. Ubbe shook his head at his brother's antics and lightly his him over his head, and Hvitserk hit him back. "The Seer told Ragnar he would have many sons, and they told me I would bear them. I would have like a daughter too, but the gods didn't grant me that. But now I have you, Love."

Vanya smiled proudly at the praise, feeling like she finally belonged somewhere. The Queen was more of a mother than Siflæd ever was, the Ragnarssons were like brothers to her who teased and supported her, and Helga and Floki were like an uncle and aunt. The people loved and greeted her every time they saw her, congratulating her on her baby and wishing her luck. Vanya found a home.

A child ran up to the two and held up a bunch of flowers for Vanya. The ginger beamed at the little girl and carefully took the flowers from her. "Thank you very much, Selby. They are beautiful. How are you?" She slowly crouched down to the girl's height as the cute three-year-old told her how they played at the beach, and she fell into the water. Vanya laughed at the girl's expressions and hand motions before the other children run to them too.

"Princess!" They screamed happily, asking her if the baby was ok if it kicked and if it would look like her or Ivar. "I hope it will be kissed by fire like you. I like red hair!" Vanya agreed with the seven-year-old boy with a wooden sword thinking of little Ivar's with red hair. It was a funny sight, indeed.

The children felt afterward, and Aslaug helped Vanya stand, smirking at the lively Princess. "You are already great with children. You will be a good mother, no problem."

They continued on their walk, walking by the shore in silence, both content with the calm atmosphere. "I would like to visit some farmers soon, thank them for all their hard work. Brynja mentioned a few farmers were having trouble with crops; I would like to see them and help them if needed."

"It is still baffling to me how much you interact with the people. Your King and Queens are not known for their kindness. At least not here." Aslaug's voice was so flat and calm; it surprised Vanya.

"That is true, not many care about anything but the crown. But were are not in England. Here you don't sit on a throne and look down on them. You are amongst them, see them, hear them. It is only right we help them, show them we are not so different, and I am hoping it will make them forget I was a Christian once." Vanya confessed embarrassed about the last bit. She wanted to fit in with the Northmen, not be a foreigner who they have to respect cause she married their prince.

Aslaug chuckled at the confession and took Vanya's hand in hers. "I came here pregnant while Ragnar was still married to Lagertha. She left, and Ragnar married me to legitimize Ubbe and all our other sons. I was a foreign Princess with nothing but a child in my belly, and yet, now I am the Queen of the trading center of Norway. You may be a foreign Princess, but that will change one day. The Gods always smile on brave women."

Vanya's smile was one of joy and pride; even her eyes reflected her emotions, exposing them for all to see. Aslaug was right, back home, Vanya was just a sheltered sister to the King; here she could be amongst the people, help them, find a place in the world for herself. Vanya wouldn't remain a foreigner for long; she could feel it in her bones.

The Princess returned to her chamber when the moon was high up in the sky, and one could hardly see in front of them. She and Aslaug got carried away talking and forgot to return sooner. They spoke of Aslaug's home, Götaland, of Harbard, who took away Ivar's pain and the Ragnarssons childhoods. Vanya told her about her father, negligent mother, cruel brother, and all he put her through. They comforted each other till the sun went down, and the winds grew colder.

Ivar sat at the table with his back to her, pouring a cup of mead to calm his nerves with his missing mother and wife. Vanya crept up to him and put her hands around his neck, startling him. "What are you doing?" He asked his shoulders tense coldly.

"My hands are cold." Vanya whined, grinning cheekily at his discomfort.

"I can feel that." Ivar pulled Vanya's hands away and sent her to sit down on her chair near the fire. He took her small hands into his and rubbed them hoping to warm them up faster. "How was your walk with mother?"

Vanya gave him a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through him. He loved whenever she smiled at him, especially if she smiled because of him. It made him feel loved. "She is a great woman. A little bit pushy, but at least I know where you get it from."

"I am not pushy." He grumbled, pouting as Vanya giggled at his expression.

"Of course not." The ginger teased, standing up from the chair and walking to the bed. Ivar watched her go, putting his cup down he followed her. He untied his legs and took off his shirt while Vanya changed into a nightgown. It was no wonder that she got cold; her dress was warm. It was pink with long white sleeves and a belt tied around her waist. He complained about the last part this morning, but his mother reassured him it didn't matter. She said the babe would be fine.

Yet Ivar still feared for the babe, what if something happened? What if Vanya lost it? Or worse, what if it was born like him? He didn't want his son or daughter to know what the life of a cripple might be like. The laughter, the loneliness, the hate you feel towards yourself. Ivar's child should be healthy, run, and play with the other children, like Ivar himself never could. So he worried, not only for the child but for Vanya herself. Aslaug was in incredible pain giving birth to him; he was the worst of the pregnancies and births she had. He didn't wish that kind of pain upon his wife. What if she didn't survive that kind of pain, bled too much, and lost her life? He couldn't carry on without her. Ivar depended upon her love, touch, smiles; he couldn't lose either of them.

A hand on his cheek snapped him out of his thoughts; his wife stood before him in a white spotted nightgown, looking worried. "I am fine. Get in bed, let's warm you two up." So Vanya slowly crawled into bed, her back against the headboard. She moved awkwardly, not used to the growing bump. Her back and breast ached sometimes, but at least she no longer vomited, which she was very happy about. His loving wife had a way of finding the silver lining within everything, no matter what, everything had a bright side.

She put her hand on her belly and smiled at Ivar with her brows furrowed. "Come feel." The ginger whispered, pulling his hand towards her stomach. Ivar's shaky hand moved over the bump as the babe moved, while Vanya watched his face. His mouth twitched, and she was pretty sure he was fighting a smile.

"It's so exciting, Aslaug said it will kick next month." She beamed her hand on top of his caressing one. He looked so content sitting there next to her, feeling the life they created together move inside her. He allowed the smile to be visible, or maybe he wasn't even aware that he was smiling at all. Vanya watched him in his content state; he looked so at peace, relaxed, and calm. Her own eyes were dropping sleepily, so she laid down and fell asleep.

Ivar couldn't sleep just yet. The babe still moved inside, and he couldn't help but feel it move. It reassured him their child was alive and alright. "You will be glorious, my child. I can feel it. You better take after your mother, her smile, her mind, and heart." He laid his head next to Vanya's stomach and watched the bump as the child stilled.

"No one will hurt either of you. You are safe here, with your family. You will be loved and protected, like no other child in history." He laid his forehead against his sleeping wife's belly and closed his eyes. "You and your mother are my everything. All I have and all I am is yours."

A hand tangled itself into his hair as he sobs shook his body. "I love you, Ivar Ragnarsson." The sixteen-year-old Viking looked up at his smiling wife, who also held tears in her eyes. He crawled up to her side and connected their lips in a sweet kiss. They rest their foreheads against each other, looking into their eyes. A sea at storm meets the sky in the spring. One corner of Vanya's lips lifts as Ivar whispers the words back to her with sincerity and vulnerability. She snorts out a laugh that Ivar mirrors. It took four months, but they finally know the truth. They love each other, and nothing can or will change that. Not Sigurd, not Silas, not their faith or anybody. They are both whole.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #original character #original female character

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