#ragnar/OC

[gale-dekarios]

i adore seeing everyone's HCs for the kids their tavs/durges will have with their romances, but you can't convince me durgestarion's child wouldnt be at least a little fucked up, or that gale wouldnt be infinitely more pretentious now he has a kid to brag about.

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Tesinktober2023 Day 1 - Music

"*sigh* alright. A fine but bloody tale. I can do that one.

There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red~"

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Paarthurnax, meditating: The quieter you become the more you can hear.

Odahviing and the Last Dragonborn: *headbanging to Ragnar the Red*

Paarthurnax: *sigh*

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come. 

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods. 

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives. 

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance. 

And Ivar relished every moment. 

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated. 

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them. 

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives. 

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come. 

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act. 

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him. 

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come. 

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted. 

Fucking pathetic. 

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer. 

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it. 

"Wake him up." 

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man. 

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now. 

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement. 

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief. 

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?” 

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case. 

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue. 

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination. 

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane. 

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.” 

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white. 

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her. 

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain. 

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off. 

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover. 

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side. 

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–” 

Another smack reverberated in the air. 

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out. 

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse. 

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!” 

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill. 

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands. 

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha. 

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.  

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing. 

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.  

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise. 

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs. 

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of. 

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still. 

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin. 

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?” 

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now. 

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.” 

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic. 

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face. 

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed. 

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high. 

“You live!” 

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence. 

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?” 

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim. 

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them. 

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real. 

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm. 

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest. 

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side. 

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out. 

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name. 

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water. 

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket. 

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn. 

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?” 

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number. 

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief. 

Someone was calling him about Kari. 

As an emergency contact. 

From a hospital. 

Where she is a patient. 

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him. 

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him. 

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying. 

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her. 

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting. 

He had promised. 

And he failed. 

Again. 

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again. 

“Yes.” He croaked out. 

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call. 

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?  

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic. 

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed. 

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror. 

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.” 

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option. 

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes. 

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her. 

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass. 

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel. 

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort. 

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind. 

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on. 

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[yewphoric]

D O V A H K I I N

Yol.. Toor... Shul!

[paracosmoon]

king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion

[noirofhyrule]

I'M ALIVE HEY HELLO THERE!

MAY THE 4TH 5TH 6TH BE WITH YOU

WHY JON FAVREAU WHY DID YOU KILL MY POOR BABY I LOVED PAZ VIZSLA SO MUCH WHYYYY

[mommytauriel]

+ · 。~ OC chart for Thyra

This is my oc chart for my oc Thyra! She will be the main character for my upcoming Vikings story! I’m still wondering if I should post the story on here as well, please let me know what you guys think! I hope you guys like her!

This was my first time doing something like this! I’m definitely going to be doing this for other oc’s of mine 🤗

Feel free to send in some asks or questions that you have for this story! I would love to answer them 🫶🏻

[namelessbutters-doodles]

Paul : you want to go wake up Mommy?

Them: Ba!

So! Guys, meet Velvet and Paul's child!

Velanie, the child of Vonstar and one that'll be born in the future when Velvet and Paul are ready to bring one into the world. They don't speak that much, sometimes mute but when they respond or want something they'll let out a sound. in which, they're parents will understand.

they wear there mother's jewelry sometimes, play with makeup, sing with there father and all around be a joy that brings a smile to everyone, there hair is usually wild so Paul does it while Velvet keeps them distracted.

for a while now, ever since I wrote mating press I started to imagined what there kid would look like and this is the result of two lovers on a night full of emotions that created them...

Velanie, An Angel.

@genesstankycodpiece

@sagii24

@starry-eyed-never-satisfied

@elrohare

@angelbambisworld

@spacedoutman

@2hotintheshade

[omgkatherine01]

Heart of Darkness: Chapter 2 - Freya Ragnarsdottir

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Osferth x female reader

Please comment, like and share

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you lost your father and brothers.

Your uncle was now the new lord of Bebbanburg, to your and your mother's disappointment.

For two weeks, you had been keeping yourself inside your room, not speaking to anyone except your mother. Your uncle tried to reach out to you, but you closed yourself from him and anyone else besides the woman who gave you life.

"I was told you still haven't return eating properly," your mother muttered, both of you sat on your bed one morning.

You shrugged, and looked at the handcraft figure in your hand. It was supposed to be a warrior figure, but in your eyes, it wasn't very good. Your big brother however, complimented your work, and asked you for one weeks ago, which brought a smile to your pouty face and you immediately went on to work on making one for him.

Did he died holding your gift? you asked yourself sadly, not realizing a tear slip down your cheek while staring down at the wooden figure until your mother brushed the tear away.

"I know, my love, I miss them as well," she said softly. You released a shaky breath and glanced at her before looking down. "I will go tell the cook to make us breakfast, we'll eat here together, alright?"

You shrugged, and your mother took it as an agreement. She left you alone.

--

"What would you do with the little lady, my lord?" Scallion, your uncle's close ally, asked him when they and Father Beocca were alone in the Great Hall.

"Nothing yet," your uncle Aelfric said, "She is only seven, she needs to grow before I'll marry her off to a lord."

Father Beocca noticed a small smirk appearing on Scallion's face, and he didn't like it at all. "And who do you think of marring her to?" Scallion asked.

"Don't know, I'll find someone," Aelfric said.

Beocca opened his mouth, as if you remind them he was there but a guard walked in, "Excuse me, my lord, but you have a visiter. He claims to be a messenger."

"Let him in," Aelfric said. A man walked in and Beocca tensed, recognising him as one of the Vikings.

Aelfric tilted his head, "I don't know you. You don't have the appearance of a messenger. And Ubba's payment's not yet due."

Beocca frowned, Ubba's payment's not yet due? Did he... His blood was boiling by this thought and new information.

"No, lord," the viking said, "I was a ship's master."

"Ah, well. I have no ships. I need no ship's master."

"I have news that you will want to hear," the Viking said. Aelfric raised an eyebrow, "Well."

"I would want something in return, lord," the Viking said. Aelfric scoffed as he turned away. "Not now, not quite. But perhaps we could continue to help each other."

"Perhaps," Aelfric shrugged.

"Two days south of here..." the viking started, "Is a rat with the man I used to serve. Until he banished me. He has a slave. He treats him well. This is a slave you're entitled to buy back, if you wish to."

Aelfric frowned and repeated, "Buy back?"

"He's your nephew," the Viking said, surprising the men. "Uhtred, lord. He lives."

Aelfric had a calm expression of his face, but Beocca knew now that he was angry that the young lord had survived. He had to get to him, but first, he had to get you out of the castle, he did not trust your uncle around you. He quietly stepped out without anyone noticing, he had to inform your mother what was happening.

--

You were watching the sun setting down from your window when your mother had returned to your room again, you turned and frowned when you noticed her expression.

"Mother?" you asked quietly, blinking when she peered outside and then quickly closed the door.

"Grab your cloak," she immediately said in a hash tone as she hurried toward your bed. You stood from your window seat and stepped forward, confused and worried when she grabbed your cloak and started to tie it around you.

"What is it?" you asked, "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, you are leaving this place," she said. You frowned again, not understanding, "Why? Where am I going? Does uncle taking me away?"

"No," she said, placing her hand on your cheek as she kneeled down, "You listen to me, never trust your uncle. You going with your brother to Winchester, you will be safe there."

"My brother?" you repeated. "Uhtred is alive," she said quietly, "Come." She took your hand as she stood up, and quickly moved to the door. You held your wooden figure on your left hand tightly, shocked by the information while your mother peered outside before pulling you out to the hall with her.

The two of you reached to the barn where Father Beocca was waiting with Uhtred's horse, which had returned alone that day Uhtred disappeared. A guard was by his side, and when he saw you coming in, he walked out to guard outside.

"Quickly," he said in a hush tone. You turned to your mother, looking up at her with a frown and tears in your eyes, "You not coming?"

"No, my love," she said softly and bend down to kiss your forehead, "I must stay here."

"But why?" you asked. "There's no time, my dear," Beocca said and looked at your mother, "I'm sorry, but you must go now before Aelfric will notice you not there to see him off."

Your mother nodded and looked at you again. She quickly pulled you into her arms, kissing your head, "My sweetheart," she muttered and pulled away, clearing your eyes and cheeks from your tears, "Be strong. Alright? Be strong."

You nodded, "I love you, mother," you muttered. "I love you too," she said and kissed your forehead again as she gently held your cheeks, "Tell your brother, that I love him as well. Alright?" You nodded quickly and sniffed as she pulled away from you.

With one last look at you, she turned and quickly left the barn. You turned to Beocca as he placed a small bag on the back of the horse and he turned to you. He placed his hands on your arms as he bend down, looking at you with a soft expression.

"It's alright, listen to me, carefully, alright?" he asked and you nodded. He pulled the hood of your cloak on your head, "I will be riding with your uncle to meet with your brother and the Danes that have him, you will ride from a distance, alright? You must not been seen."

You nodded quickly and he continued, "You will hid far from the trees in the forest. When we get Uhtred, he will ran to your direction, you two ride to Winchester. Uhtred knows where it is. You will ride there, and I will met you both there."

You nodded again, "All right," you said quietly. He lifted you up on the horse and handed you the reins. "Remember; follow from a distance."

You nodded and watched him leaving quickly.

--

"What if I'm against being ransomed?" Uhtred asked Ravn, the blind older Dane as he led him forward in the forest by the hand. The old man who was kind to the young boy since the day he was captured by him and his clan, gently held onto his hand and spoke, "Your family has discovered that you're still alive. And they wish for you to be returned. But they must pay."

Uhtred glanced back toward the leader, who he grew to like and look up to, "Pay Ragnar?"

"Ubba takes more than half," Ravn explained quietly, referring to the blond man with tattoo on the side of his face. "It's normal."

Uhtred gently let go of Ravn's hand and watched him step away. He frowned slightly, the only one he missed in his family was you. His little sister... and Uhtred hated to admit it, but he also missed your mother.

His step mother, who he never really tried to get along despite her kind words and protectiveness over him. He knew since he was little that Gytha wasn't his birth mother, and that his true mother died when he was a babe.

But she still viewed him like her own son.

Uhtred suddenly felt guilt thinking about the past. He should have been nicer, he should have called her 'mother' with more kinder tone, and be more of a son to her like she viewed him.

Uhtred never treated you coldly like he treated your mother, you were his sister, you both shared the same father, and he loved you since the moment you came into the world.

For two weeks that he been captured, he didn't try to escape and come back to you. He now felt like he had abandoned you.

You must now know that he was alive. He was worried that you thought that he had abandoned you.

He hoped not.

Uhtred forced a small smile when Father Beocca approached. "Uhtred," Beocca greeted with a smile. "They're treating you well?"

Uhtred nodded lightly, "I am fed, yes."

Beocca nodded, "Good, good. That's all we ask." He noticed something around the boy's neck, "What is that around your neck? Some symbol?"

"Oh, this?" he asked and lifted the necklace up, showing Thor's hammer that was gifted to him by Ravn's son, the leader, Ragnar Ravnsson, "They... they make me wear it."

"May I see it?" Beocca asked, looking at Ragnar who was leaning against a tree. With a nod, the priest approached. He took the necklace, and glanced behind him to see Aelfric speaking to Scallion, so he turned to the boy and spoke quietly, "Look, I will speak plainly, your uncle will kill you. Right, you cannot go back to Bebbanburg. You must escape. He wants to be the ealdorman. He wants to be the king, in fact, like the pathetic Egbert over there. A puppet king for his Danish masters. Your sister is waiting on the north side from here, behind you--don't look back." He stopped Uhtred from turning. "She can't go back too, she will be sold off when she will grow older. You two go to Wessex. King Aethelred, real king Aethelred... and his brother, the prince Alfred... they're good men, good Christian men--"

Ragnar stepped forward, "That's enough whispering in his ear, priest." Uhtred turned to him, breathing heavily. Beocca grabbed his arms, making him turn back, "Uhtred--"

"One more word, I'll have your ball bag for a purse," Ragnar threated calmly. "I'll meet you there," Beocca whispered before stepping back and speaking calmly, "That will not be necessary."

Ragnar watched him stepping away and looked down at the boy, noticing him staring at his uncle. "What did he say?"

"He... he asked if you were treating me well," he lied, glancing up at the man before stepping back, looking a little shaken up which Ragnar and his son noticed.

They looked at each other, knowing something was off. Uhtred glanced around, and finally spotted you before you moved away to hid.

His little sister.

Uhtred let out a soft shaky breath before he quickly turned away and looked at Ragnar and Ragnar the Younger to speak quietly, "I need to go for a moment to pee."

Ragnar clearly saw through him but didn't speak of it and instead looked at his son, "Go with him."

"I can go by myself," Uhtred said. "Not at this moment," Ragnar said as he shook his head a little. Uhtred hesitated but turned and walked away with Ragnar the Younger walking beside him.

The boy let out a soft sigh and nervously looked around as they walked a little far away from the group. "So, who is the little lady who is hiding around?" Ragnar the Younger asked, a little amused when the boy looked up at him worriedly.

"She's not in trouble," he said. "No, not from you," Uhtred muttered, "She will be if my uncle finds out she's here."

Ragnar the Younger hummed, "Well, then, bring her out. I won't tell and I won't bite." Uhtred looked up at him for a moment before looking around, "You can come out, y/n," he said softly.

You stepped out from behind one of the trees, leaving the horse farther away from where the three of you were at. You looked from the young man in hesitation to your brother. He nodded and gave you a small smile, as if he was scared you weren't happy to see him.

You walked closer quickly and jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. Uhtred hugged you back tightly, closing his eyes in relief. After a moment you two pulled away from the hug, but you grabbed into his arm when he turned to the young man.

"That's my little sister, y/n," he said and glanced at you, "This is Ragnar the Younger. I was with him and his family all that time."

You looked up at Ragnar the Younger and took a step behind Uhtred to hid behind him when the young man kneeled down. "Do not fear me, I won't harm you," he said.

"Are you going to tell them I'm here?" you asked in a small voice, "Because if you will, I will be in trouble." He nodded, "All right then. Then I won't." You looked a little relief and he looked at Uhtred, "What did the priest say to you?"

"My uncle will kill me," he said, "He's not here to bring me back, he's going to kill me as soon as he will get his hands on me, and he will get rid of my sister. He can't find out she's here."

Ragnar the Younger looked from him to you, watching you lowering your gaze to your wooden figure in your hand. He held his hand out, "Can I see it?"

You hesitantly handed your wooden figure, and he recognized it since he saw Uhtred with one like this a few times. "That's a very nice warrior figure," he complimented, remembering Uhtred saying you had made one for him. "Who made it?"

"I did," you answered. Ragnar the Younger smiled a little, "That is very good. Perhaps you would make me one as well."

That actually made you smile a little. He handed the wooden figure back to you, and let out a breath before nodding to the side, "You see that bridge?"

You and Uhtred looked to where he nodded and looked at the bridge farther away with a pond under it. "Yes," you answered softly and looked back at the young man.

"Go there, and wait for us," he said. "Am I to go with you?" you asked a little nervous as you looked from your brother to him. "Perhaps," he said, "After I will speak to my father, I am sure he will speak up to stop the ransom."

"So, will I be able to come with my sister?" Uhtred asked, his voice sounded a little hopeful. Ragnar the Younger simply smirked, "Who knows. Come on." He stood up and looked at you, nodding to the bridge, "Off you go."

You looked at Uhtred and he nodded to you. You quickly moved up the small hill and turned to watch them walking back to the others. You turned and ran to get Uhtred's horse to the bridge.

Ragnar watched his son and Uhtred walking closer. Ragnar the Younger walked toward him while Uhtred stood by a Viking, glaring at his uncle.

"Father?" Ragnar the Younger spoke quietly as he leaned closer to him. With a hum, he spoke again, this time much quieter so no one could listen, "That lord is going to kill him." Ragnar glanced at his son and then away, listening. "His little sister is waiting by the bridge, she can't go back."

Ragnar the Younger moved away a little and turned back to the rest. As they watched the ransom in fold, Ragnar was looking between Uhtred and Aelfric.

"How much?" his uncle asked. "300," Ravn said, sitting next to Ubba. Aelfric looked at them, scoffing, "That is a ridiculous amount. How can a boy be worth 300 pieces of silver?"

"Because I say so," Ravn said. "Because he is a lord and an ealdorman." Aelfric shook his head a little, "No, he is a boy. I am the ealdorman of Bebbanburg. I carry the seal and the banner."

"That seal is my father's, which is now mine!" Uhtred said, glaring at him.

"You be silent," Ubba said, "You are for sale, nothing more."

"For ransom, lord," Ravn corrected. Ubba nodded, "That's what I said."

"My lords, I have given up land, horses," Aelfric said as he sat down, "I've offered a generous supply of food as well as my sword. All I ask in return is a fair price for my only nephew."

Uhtred shook his head a little. "What would you say is a fair price?" Ravn asked.

"I will offer 100 pieces of silver," Aelfric said. "200," Ravn said. "My allegiance and 100 pieces is surely a fair price," Aelfric said.

"It is not," Ravn said. "I will give 120 pieces of silver for the boy," Aelfric said. Ravn laughed softly and shook his head, "Not enough."

Aelfric looked down for a moment, "Very well." He looked at Ubba and Ravn, "200 pieces. I agree to your terms." Ravn seemed disappointed that he agreed, since he was found of the boy and deep down he didn't want Aelfric to get him back.

Ubba opened his mouth to agree with the deal, but then Ragnar bend down and whispered something to his ear. He moved away and Ubba looked at him, surprised by what he was giving up.

Ragnar nodded, and Ubba turned to Aelfric, raising an eyebrow, "The boy is sold to Earl Ragnar."

Aelfric frowned, shocked, "What?" Beocca turned to Uhtred in surprise, and frowned when he noticed a relief expression on the boy's face.

"Ransomed, lord," Ravn corrected but he did show he was glad Uhtred will be staying with him and his family.

Ubba nodded, "That's what I said. The matter is closed." He stood up and Aelfric did as well, "My lords, I have come a long way. I have offered my allegiance."

Ragnar stepped forward, "Which is why you're allowed to breathe. If you have an argument, it's with me now." They stared at each other for a long moment, and when Ragnar saw Aelfric backing down, he smirked and walked past him, "If business is done, we have ale to drink."

"And King Egbert needs to shit!" Ubba joked and laughed at his own joke. Ragnar stopped in front of Uhtred, who looked up at him with a small relief smile.

"Let's get your sister," he said quietly and ruffled the boy's hair as he walked past him.

You waited with Uhtred's horse by the bridge for a little bit until you heard horses approaching. You stood by the horse and hold tightly into the reins as you saw people approaching on horses.

Ragnar the Younger and your brother were one of them. Uhtred was riding with the man you recognized from before the battle, who seemed to be the leader.

"Hold," he said and the four people with him stopped their horses. Uhtred jumped down from the horse and rushed closer to you, giving you a bright smile.

"It's okay," he said, "We'll be safe now." He looked at his horse and patted it softly as the leader got off of his horse with Ragnar the Younger and another blonde man with a tattoo on the side of his face.

"What is this?" the blonde man asked, frowning down at you. The leader approached to you and your brother, and stared down at you for a few seconds before kneeling down in front of you.

"Your name?" he asked. You hesitated and glanced at your brother before back at the man, "Y/n..."

He nodded and looked at Uhtred, who was staring at him. It seemed that they both were speaking with each other with only their eyes, and then, the man looked at you, and gave you a small smile, "Let's go home."

You looked at your brother who smiled brightly again, and looked at you, nodding. He stepped to his horse and got on it. You looked at the man as he got up and he offered you his hand. You hesitatingly placed your small hand on his larger hand, and let him led you to his horse.

It was a beautiful dark horse, and when you reached your hand up to it, it lowered its face so you can touch its nose. The man lifted you up to sit on his horse.

"Ragnar, you taking another?" the blonde man asked, raising an eyebrow. "She shouldn't be living apart from her brother," the man, Ragnar, said and got on the horse, sitting behind you.

"If that lord will find out the sister is with you, then what?" the man asked. "That won't happen, because she will be given a different name," Ragnar said and with that, the horse started to walk off, with Uhtred and Ragnar the Younger followed.

--

"Mother, they back!"

You lifted your gaze forward when you heard a girl calling happily. When you, Uhtred, Ragnar, Ragnar the Younger and the old man who was blind and named Ravn reached to the village, to one of the houses, two girls were outside playing when they saw you.

A woman walked outside and smiled. She looked at Uhtred as he got off of his horse and smiled at him as he moved closer. The two girls rushed closer to him and embraced him, which surprised him.

"You're back too!"

Ragnar got off of his horse before turning to you. He lifted you up from the horse and placed you down on your feet. He then led you closer to the woman, the two girls and Uhtred.

Ragnar the Younger helped his grandfather off of his horse and the two walked closer. The woman kissed Ragnar's cheek before looking down at you, giving you a kind smile.

"Hello," the young girl told you, giving you a smile, which you returned with a small shy one. "This is y/n, Uhtred's little sister," Ragnar said and looked at the woman, his wife, "And as from now on, they both will be living with us. As family."

She nodded slowly, agreeing with it. "We going to have to give her a different name," Ragnar the Younger reminded as he nodded to you, "Just in case their uncle won't find out she is here."

The woman kneeled down and reached for your arm, gently pulling you over to her. "I'm sure we'll find something that will fit you," she said softly as she brushed your hair. Her touch was soft and motherly, which made you think of your mother. "Brida, please get a fur coat for her."

The young girl nodded and ran into the house. "This is my wife, Sigrid," Ragnar said, and nodded to the other girl who greeted you, "And my daughter, Thyra."

Thyra smiled at you again as Brida ran outside. She put the fur around your shoulders to keep you warm. "Thank you," you muttered softly.

Sigrid watched you with a soft smile, "I had a sister when I was little," she suddenly said softly, "Her name was Freya."

"It's a pretty name," you said. Sigrid nodded a little, "Yes. She was also pretty as her name."

"Freya Ragnarsdottir," Ragnar said with a nod, "How would you like that?" You glanced at Sigrid to see if was alright, and she smiled at you. "I think it suits you well," she said softly. You gave her a small smile and looked at Uhtred, who smiled back at you.

[gale-dekarios]

messy eater

[axxl-rose]

Not Today, My Prince

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 2222

Warnings: Mature language, sexual content

The raid was a complete success, and the festivities continued in Kattegat, with throngs of locals joining the Viking’s celebrations, trying to catch a glimpse of the victorious men. The music was booming, and the drinks flowed like liquid gold as Lottie sat with the Ragnarsson brothers, perched between Sigurd and Ubbe, while Ivar and Hvitserk sat across from them.

Lottie squealed, the atmosphere infecting her being. “What a raid, boys! The Ragnarsson name is truly becoming something of legend.” She praised, raising her mead in a toast.

The boys let out their cheers, raising their cups in agreement. As the men clinked their cups, Sigurd threw an arm around Lottie, alcohol and adrenaline pumping through his veins. “It was incredible out there! We could not be stopped!” He cried, his arm tightening around Lottie’s shoulders.

Lifting his drink to his mouth, Ivar froze as his icy eyes flickered to the action, taking a swig from his cup with a clenched jaw. “Yes, it was fucking incredible.” Ubbe and Hvitserk grinned at each other, sipping their drinks slowly.

Clearing his throat, Ubbe leant in close, encouraging the others to huddle in. “We would’ve been better if somebody could throw an axe,” Ubbe whispered with a smirk, peeking up at his brothers.

The group sniggered amongst themselves until Hvitserk paused. A frown on his face, he pushed Ubbe hard enough to knock him off his chair. “Oh, fuck off! My hand slipped!” Everyone laughed; even Ivar let out a chuckle as Ubbe dusted himself off the floor, shrugging with a smile.

Lottie’s laugh was contagious, a melody that echoed within your head, and Ivar couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes danced with flames and her smile glowed brighter than it. She was a sight to behold.

Noticing Ivar’s stare, Sigurd rolled his eyes. “You still chasing after my girl, Ivar?” he drawled, his speech slurred as he dropped his empty cup to the floor. Ivar snapped out of his daydream and glared at his smug brother.

Noticing the tension grow, Lottie shook Sigurd’s arm off her shoulders. “I’m not your girl anymore, Sigurd,” she reminded him, but he hummed.

The atmosphere became stiff, and the people around the group quietened, their attention focused on Ivar and Sigurd, who locked gazes, neither one prepared to back down. Abruptly, Sigurd chuckled to himself. “You’ve probably imagined fucking her before if what I’ve heard from your room has anything to do with it,” he sneered, laughter sounding from the onlookers. However, his brothers didn’t snigger, and neither did Lottie. They all knew that this would end poorly.

Shaking her head, Lottie downed her drink. “Sigurd, that’s enough,” Lottie warned, glancing at a trembling Ivar, his hands clenched on the table, his veins rising to the surface.

Sigurd ignored her, leaning across the table into Ivar’s face, his breath reeking of mead and meat. “Imagine her lying bare on the bed before you, dripping wet because she needs you so badly.”

Hvitserk placed a hand on Ivar’s shoulder, whispering pleas for him to remain calm in his ear. Yet, Ivar shook off the hand with a snarl. “You better stop, brother,” Ivar growled, his face flushed.

“Her moans echoing all around you as her tight, little pussy wraps around your throbbing cock… it’s pure heaven, I’ll tell you that.” The once giggling crowd had gone silent as Lottie stared at Sigurd in disbelief, shocked he would speak of her in such a way, especially since she was beside him. “But guess what, Ivar? You will never experience this for yourself, as someone like her would never go for a boneless cripple like you.” Sigurd scoffed, waving his arm in his youngest brother’s direction. “You can’t even get it to work anyway.”

Ivar launched himself out of his seat, only being pulled back by Hvitserk and Ubbe before he could wrap his hands around his older brother’s neck and squeeze the life from him. “Don’t you dare speak about her like that, you piece of fucking shit!”

Sigurd just laughed and stumbled away, collecting his empty cup off the floor and ignoring a screaming Ivar and a frustrated Lottie.

†

The obnoxious celebrations and sloshed partygoers were doing nothing for Lottie’s thumping headache. Sigurd was out of line with how he spoke to Ivar and talked about her. As much as she wanted to leave this place and forget this horrid night, she needed to make sure Ivar was okay.

Putting her ear to the closed door of Ivar’s room, and not hearing the tell-tale noises of swearing and smashing, Lottie knew it was safe to enter. Tip-toeing into the room, Lottie raised a brow as she found a shirtless Ivar perched on the end of his bed, head in his hands, tense and trembling.

Hearing her tentative footsteps, wide electric blue eyes met her concerned ones, his body slumping slightly. “Lottie, what are you doing in here?”

Lottie shrugged, a gentle smile decorating her face. “Thought that I would come and find you… talk to you about what happened out there.” She mumbled, twiddling her fingers as she watched the cripple stiffen again.

Ivar shook his head, a scowl on his lips. “It is not you who needs to worry about it. Sigurd was a prick; he should not have said that about you. Ever.” He spat, making Lottie giggle.

“No arguments from me.” She huffed, plopping down on the bed beside him, a creak echoing in the room.

The two stared ahead of them, saying nothing, until Ivar sighed, pushing his braids out of his face. He bit his lip, ripping the sensitive skin as his fingers drummed on the bed. “You know it’s true, right?” He whispered, staring at the flicking fire in the corner of his room as if the flames would engulf him at any moment.

The hairs on her neck stood tall as she raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the worried Prince. “What’s true?” Lottie questioned, her breath unsteady.

Ivar’s leg was twitching as he bounced it up and down, his eyes locked on the blaze, afraid to look at the woman beside him. “That I admire you…” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, ‘admire’ is a weak term. I’m in love with you!” He rambled so fast Lottie could barely understand the maddening man.

“Slow down, Viking!” Lottie laughed, a hand landing on Ivar’s trembling leg, causing his eyes to widen. “But yes, I knew this was true.” She admitted, giving him a cheeky grin.

Ivar froze as if ice water had drenched him from head to toe. “For fuck sakes… seriously? It was that obvious?” He groaned, pulling the ends of his hair.

Lottie giggled. “Besides the fact that you stare at me anytime I am close, you have a guard ‘secretly’ supervise me at all times, and you slaughter any man that dares approach me… yes, Ivar, you are kind of obvious.” 

Lottie tilted her head, hair draping down her back as she observed the crestfallen Ragnarrson, who had thrown himself down on the bed beside her, covering his icy eyes. Besides the dull cheering ringing from behind the closed door, silence filled the room. Sitting up straight, Lottie cleared her throat. “So, if we’re spilling secrets, I should probably admit mine.”

Ivar refused to uncover his face. “You have a secret?” She hummed in reply, staring at Ivar with a grin he could not see. A harsh breath escaped him. “Well, what is it? It could not be more embarrassing than my ‘not-so-secret’ secret.” He snorted.

“I think you’re pretty cute.” The man shot straight up, wide saucers for eyes as he gazed at Lottie. She admitted, her grin becoming a broad smile at Ivar’s reaction.

“Are you fucking with me?” Ivar whispered, his jaw dropping low.

Laughing, Lottie shook her head. “No, I’m not fucking with you.” She stated, standing up in front of him, nudging his useless legs apart so she could position herself between them. Ivar choked on air. “I’ve thought you were pretty cute for a while now, but seeing you stand up to Sigurd, getting all angry…” She sighed, shaking her head. “It was sexy.”

She was entrancing him like she always had, but hearing Lottie confess her attraction for him aroused Ivar like nothing had before. His dreams were coming to life before his very eyes.

Her soft hands rested on his bare, shuddering shoulders, feeling them relax under her tender stroking. “And it turned me on…” She paused, contemplating as she stared into his foggy, blue eyes as if searching for an answer. “I want us to fuck, Ivar. I want you buried inside me while I scream your name.”

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered, gazing up as if Lottie was Freya, Goddess of Love and Death, preparing to claim him as her own.

Lottie straddled Ivar’s lap, pressing their bodies together, feeling their hearts beat in unison, hammering like Thor was striking them himself. “Not today, my Prince.”

She could feel his solid erection against her core, making her raise a brow as the rumours surrounding Ivar’s condition have always made her curious. Testing the waters, Lottie firmly ground her hips down in one smooth motion, making Ivar groan, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

Suddenly, they snapped back open. The realisation that he could be aroused by a woman… by Lottie… was all-consuming. His lips began to tremble, and his jaw slackened. Ivar gazed at the smirking Lottie as if she held the sun and stars only for him. Letting out a deep huff, his hands gripped her hips as she continued her slow movements. “Fuck, Lottie.” He panted, pleasure overtaking all his senses as his head dropped against her stomach.

“Hey,” Lottie whispered, pulling his head back up. Ivar’s eyes were drooped in lust, pupils wholly dilated. “If I’m going to ride you, you will look at me while I do it.”

Ivar thrust up against her on instinct, her sultry words going straight to his throbbing dick.

Leaning down, Lottie placed her lips firmly on Ivar’s. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her flush against his bare chest, grinding up against her as he did. Lottie whined into his mouth, the dominant movement making wetness pool in her trousers. His hands roamed her thighs as their tongues swirled around each other. Lottie’s hands began to wonder, trailing down his broad frame to his cock, giving it a testing squeeze.

Ivar groaned, but pulled Lottie away, making her frown. “Okay, okay... We need to stop.” Ivar wheezed, his eyes avoiding hers as he looked to the ceiling.

Grabbing the Viking’s chin, Lottie stared Ivar dead in the eye. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She questioned, still huffing. “You are Ivar Lothbrok, correct? The man who’s been following me around like a puppy since we met?”

Ivar grumbled, lying back against the bed and covering his eyes. “I know, I know! This is literally my fucking wet dreams coming to life.” He growled, the noise going straight to her core.

Lottie’s thighs felt cold now without Ivar’s warm hands caressing her. “Then, what’s the issue here, Ivar?” She mumbled, confused beyond belief.  

Throwing his hands up in the air and slamming them down on the sheets, Ivar let out a yell. “Fucking Sigurd!”

Taken aback, Lottie rose an eyebrow at Ivar, her face forming a snarl. “Sigurd? Sigurd is why you won’t fuck me! Why are you even thinking about him when I’m straddling your hard-on? Desperate to fuck you!” She cried.

Ivar sat up on his forearms, a frown on his face as he looked at the girl of his dreams. “Because he has had you in ways I cannot, that I do not think I can.”

Lottie shook her head with a soft laugh, hair dangling before her eyes as her hands started to move over Ivar’s chest. “You are the object of my desire. You, your inner power, your fighting spirit is what I have craved for many years. I do not want, Sigurd. I want you.” She declared as Ivar’s hands unconsciously moved up her thighs again.

“Yes, but…”

Lottie cut him off. “No but’s.” Removing her hands from Ivar’s chest, Lottie moved up to her shirt, slipping it off her flushed skin. “Right now, it’s you and me.” Ivar was mesmerised once more as more of Lottie’s skin displayed. “There’s no Sigurd…” She whispered, throwing her shirt to the side, leaving her breasts bare before him, peaky nipples hard in the open air. “There’s no other Ragnarsson…” Ivar’s hands trailed up her warm stomach and cupped her chest, making her bite her lip. “It’s just you and me.”

Ivar nodded absently, his fingers circling her nipples as he held her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. “Just you and me.”

“That’s right, Lothbrok,” Lottie smirked, reaching beneath her and stroking his erect member. “So, are we going to talk about Sigurd, or are you going to fuck me?” She squeezed him, locking eyes with Ivar, who was struggling to maintain eye contact with her bare breasts in front of his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that the only man’s name you’ll ever be able to say is Ivar.”

[totaleclipse573]

Au thingy

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[zwy01]

Noble OCs - Gradeus’ Clan

Making five OCs for every clan!

Asterion: Pureblood. Entered eternal sleep, belonged to Lagus’ generation.

Asterion was the father of Pandora and the grandfather of Gradeus. He was a good father to his little Pandora and felt worried when her personality suddenly changed from energetic and upbeat to lethargic and unresponsive when she was about 80 years old. He tried asking what’s wrong to which she always smiled and answered “nothing”. Pandora didn’t want to make her Clan Leader worry about her, so she never told him about the permanent condition that tortured her on the inside. Asterion gradually stopped with his questions because he could sense that his daughter was reluctant to share. He could’ve ordered her to be truthful, but he didn’t want to force her to be uncomfortable. He was very lenient with her and let her skip mandatory events. Sometimes, he canceled his own meetings and duties to spend time with her. He also defended her when others called her an “old lady” to poke fun at her. Asterion was a pretty relaxed person, though he was a terrifying force whenever someone tried to bully Pandora. Father and daughter had a close, loving relationship despite the wall the latter put up between them. Perhaps Pandora’s tendencies to hide her struggles didn’t come from nowhere. Asterion also suffered from a strange one-of-a-kind condition where he craved the flesh of humans. Only his partner, the mother of their daughter, and his mysterious best friend were aware of it. Other than those two, no one had a clue. Asterion was perfectly fine in his childhood until he hit his teenage years when he suddenly gained an intense and insatiable appetite. Nobles don’t need to eat, yet he was always looking for food. Nothing seemed to be the right answer and his hunger drove him mad. Eventually, after putting everything he could possibly find on Earth into his mouth, he discovered that only human flesh could completely quell his symptoms. Asterion’s partner and best friend helped him source human corpses and even live human sacrifices from the outside world and brought them back to Lukedonia for him. The disappearance of dead bodies from graves and live sacrifices from ritual grounds contributed to the humans’ beliefs of the dead rising and sacrifice rituals working. Asterion was ashamed of himself and kept his condition a secret from everyone else, including his daughter. He felt like a monster, but he had no other choice. His partner and best friend made sure to “pay” the humans for their contributions, which just led to even more live sacrifices thus causing the ritual to become a common practice in many parts of the world. Asterion’s hobbies were meditation and trying to make Pandora happy.

Daedalus: Non-pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to Gejutel’s generation.

Daedalus is an inventor, architect, and sculptor. When he was a child, he kept complaining to his parents about their “boring, unoriginal, and lacking” home even though it was perfectly fine by your average noble standards. There is no best, only better, he repeated. He’d run around and point to the walls, ceilings, and corridors gesturing and explaining the changes he’d make if he were to be in charge of the layout. He was confident with his visions. Daedalus’ creativity would come and go in random surges and he had a tough time sitting still during his education. He’d barely get to the fifth page of his book and then he’s suddenly screaming and jumping up and down shouting “Eureka!!”, to his parents’ confusion. They’d sigh at their hyper son and wonder why he’s saying the name of his imaginary friend… or something, for the nth time. His parents eventually gave up on trying to get him to finish his education because it seemed impossible with his personality. Plus, they wanted to support Daedalus in his passion despite have no understanding of it themselves, so they let him run wild with his full potential. Time goes by, Daedalus turns 200, and his parents gift him with the opportunity to remodel their home. Go ahead and do your magic, they said. Daedalus is overjoyed. They end up sort of regretting making such an offer to their son, though. He turns their home into a giant, complex maze that is so hard to navigate it’s impossible to not get lost, even with loads of practice. Only Daedalus knows how to get around. Guests jokingly comment on how it’s almost like their home was designed to trap people inside forever. Who knows what the designer was thinking. Daedalus calls himself a genius and his work a masterpiece. He names their new home “Labyrinth” which just confuses his family again. His parents love him, so they simply deal with it and accept their new life of never learning how to get from the dining room to the living room. They’re happily suffering as they feel proud of their son. Daedalus, his love, and their son Icarus Pyradros live together in their maze-like multigenerational home.

Helga: Pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Helga is a shipwright. Her parents love the sea and built their home on the coast. Little Helga was born in the glittering waves during a beautiful sunrise. She opened her eyes to the magnificent scenery and immediately fell in love with it. Helga has a very active lifestyle. She harvests planks of timber from the forest during the day and builds ships of all shapes and sizes at night. The twinkles of stars and sounds of crashing waves keep her company as she diligently develops her craft. She works until sunrise and goes home to relax with her parents before heading to the forest again. Her ships are light and strong. When further enhanced with her noble powers, they can easily withstand aggressive attacks from all directions. Helga likes to put her ships to the test. She’d gather her huge group of friends for spars and they’d all go to the beach for a fun, competitive game. She splits everyone into many teams, and some of them do the rowing while others jump between the moving ships as they fight each other in hand-to-hand combat. Last team standing wins. It’s a great way to develop some fitness without getting bored, though sparring in traditional training grounds is neat too. Helga’s ships are popular with nobles and humans alike. There are instances of sea-loving nobles asking to go into eternal sleep out in the water in one of her vessels. At some point, a group of humans witnessed a noble’s death on a ship and mistook the glowing red lights for fire, which is possibly what led to them mimicking the practice and writing sagas of their own with accounts of setting ships ablaze with the dead in luxurious “ship burial” funerals. Helga just shrugs. It’s cool, they can keep the misunderstanding if they want. Well, maybe it’s waste of wood. Her Tradio parent always told to her to thank the trees when she harvests them, so she’s very serious about it. Helga’s partner is an unnamed Kravei. They are childless for now and plan to have one soon.

Ragnar: Non-pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to Raskreia’s generation.

Ragnar is chill. He and his minotaur friends hold hands and dance around in a circle together. Then they braid each other’s hair and have a tea party in the fields and gossip about the love lives of his fellow clan members. Ragnar was raised by minotaurs then by his adoptive mother Freyja. His biological parents had him because they thought having a child would patch their less-than-stable relationship and gave him up when they decided he wasn’t a satisfactory bandaid. Ragnar went off to live with a group of minotaurs who took him in because they pitied him. One day, Freyja was riding her cat chariot and stopped by a lake to rest. Little Ragnar climbed into her chariot and fell asleep. Freyja waited for the boy to wake up and asked him if he would like a permanent home after finding out that his parents abandoned him. She had always wanted another child but didn’t quite have enough lifespan to spare after having her biological children. Ragnar said yes, the minotaurs congratulated him, and he went to his new home. Currently, Ragnar lives with Freyja, her Ceresthalassa partner, and their son Khumbo Ceresthalassa who is his much older adoptive brother. Khumbo’s full-sisters Hnoss and Gersemi also live close by and visit often. Ragnar is a blacksmith of axes. His interest in weapon-making comes from frequenting the workshop of Tabitha Pyradros, the sister of Freyja. When Ragnar comes of age, Auntie Tabitha helps him establish his own workshop which would become the hangout location for him and his minotaur friends. The axes he makes go to his fellow clan members. Ragnar has yet to perfect the art of smithing like Tabitha, but he’s working hard towards that. He’s positive that he can reach her level in a few centuries. How ambitious! Ragnar’s partner is Kirsi Vuokko Loyard.

Torunn: Non-pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Torunn was the playmate and study buddy of Gradeus. She stayed with him until he turned 200 and resigned to pursue a different job which she’s currently doing. She wasn’t assigned to Gradeus by Pandora; rather, she came to him of her own accord. Pandora was more than welcoming of Torunn’s arrival and proposal to become Gradeus’ companion because he kept scaring potential candidates away with his not-so-nice qualities and as his mother, she was worried about him being lonely. In reality, he probably didn’t need a companion like his mother had thought, but he wouldn’t have minded either way. One more person for him to terrorize. In Gradeus’ distant memory, his initial encounter with Torunn was when his mother officially introduced them to each other. Their actual first meeting was when Gradeus “rescued” a very distraught Torunn who had been left behind to suffer by her bullies. They cut off all her limbs and dunked her into a barrel of ale and deliberately trapped her there. As a non-pureblood on the weaker end, she couldn’t have escaped on her own as she had lost too much blood and exhausted all her energy. She was prepared to die. Then in came Gradeus. He aggressively kicked tipped over the barrel out of curiosity and released Torunn as a bonus. He skipped behind her, looked at her in the eye, and grinned as he told her that guess she’s lucky and won’t die today. He went about his day and forgot about it an hour later. Torunn remembered, and she vowed to repay the favor. As Gradeus’ companion, she tolerated all of his eccentric and sometimes violent behaviors whether they were directed at others or herself. It didn’t matter to her, because back then he saved her. She also volunteered to take the blame for the problems he caused without complaint. After Gradeus comes of age, Torunn resigns and opens her own brewery. Currently, she makes ale, mead, and wine. Maybe her inspiration comes from trauma. No one knows for sure. She stays in Lukedonia most of the time and sometimes travels to interact with humans to obtain knowledge of their alcohol. Torunn’s mead may or may not have received the name of “Poetic Mead” from the humans for its divine taste. It’s like a mythical drink to them. She’s rather flattered. Professor Titus is a fan too. Torunn currently lives with her Mergas partner and their daughter.

Thank you for reading! Siriana is next!

[lanami-legacy]

Ki Ragnar: Sith Warrior // Emperor's Wrath // Empress' Wrath

( inspo )