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milkb0nny · 5 months

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Hello. I saw the open request box and I didn’t know if you would be open to write something for Bjorn? Is he a character that you like? Do you have a favourite character from Series Vikings? I read a lot of your work and it’s so beautiful. Would you be able to write something about and obsessed Bjorn with reader and maybe some smuttyness ✨✨✨Mybe she joins him on the first trip to the Mediterranean 😍😍Andhe can see her from the ship across speaking to Floki and Helga ?

loyal dishonesty

Björn x neutral!reader

Björn: A man obsessing over you

Summary: Björn, who is known to be an adventurous and lustful lover, finally caught an endless desire: you. Though, how is he to portray his passion and admiration towards you?

Note: Thank you for your request! Björn is an... okay character. I rewatched the series so many times and with every rewatch I'm able to like him more. Still, he's far away from being a favorite. 😭 I love Ivar and Floki, as well as Helga and Torvi. Also - the smüt might be a little... Well, I usually don't write smüt. 🫠

Warnings: a little smüt, lustful behavior

Word Count: -

♡....━━━━━━━........ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ........━━━━━━━....♡

⚜️ When Björn fell for you, his attention became laser-focused on you. The first spark emerged just like with other women, though with you he felt he couldn't reach you. You were different - hard to get yet playful. He's known for his ambition and drive, but when he's in love, that intensity is redirected towards his beloved. His mind desired you, his body burned for your touch and his eyes were always glued on your very beautiful features. Every decision he made was influenced by thoughts of you.

⚜️ He kindly offered you drinks, a lovely chat or a sweet tease to make him seem interesting. Your personality was not only captivating but making him obsessive. Björn's love manifested as a fierce protectiveness - and an unhealthy obsession with you. He was almost obsessive about keeping you safe, especially on the way to the Mediterranean Sea. He secretly checked on you - your health, your daily activities and your bonds with others.

⚜️ Although his history with cheating is well known, he's also a jealous person. He despised to view you with other men or women who glared at you with lust. Björn felt entitled to you as if he had owned the right to you. No one should come too close, no one should touch your precious body without his permission. Though you weren't his, he still kept barging in whenever a person insisted perverted intentions.

⚜️ Björn is not one who opens up. He prefers to be viewed as the strong provider, a fearless man and a good soldier. However everyone is vulnerable. Björn found himself in a difficult position: he wanted to be vulnerable to show you his honest love though he didn't want to lose his identity as a powerful man. Throughout your time together you watched the thick wall break into pieces little by little. You learned about his flaws, his emotional struggles and especially about his insufferable self esteem. Deep inside he was more insecure than you ever had anticipated. Nevertheless you loved him for sharing that with you which was another reason to never let you go. You knew things no one else was supposed to know. In order to keep his secrets hidden, he needed to make you his. His only.

⚜️ As Björn's love deepens, so does his desperation to hold onto it. Emotions crept up his mind he had never encountered before with anyone else. A strange feeling, robbing his thoughts at night. He fears losing you, his passion, more than anything else and is willing to go to extreme lengths to keep you by his side, even if it means sacrificing his own happiness or ambitions. You did not only entertain him, you showed him how true love looked like. The feeling of your warmth was unique and too worthy to ever let go of. Your embrace motivated him to fight for his ambitions but you also scared him. You could not only pass away during battle, but sicknesses also haunt people's lives. A constant bitter taste - one that made him into a loyal husband.

⚜️ His care showed through intimate times as well. Whenever you begged him for nightly adventures, he was more than ready to fulfill your desires. However, in the back of his foggy mind, he would always make sure you're comfortable. Scaring you or hurting you during such vulnerable actions frightened him. Even if his thrusts were rough and heavy, his hands kept softly petting your shoulders.

⚜️ His obsession with you came so far, that he never engages in positions where he can't see your face. Oh, how he adores your flushed red face, your closed eyes and the messy hair of yours. Björn was convinced he would miss out on your heavenly being if the two of you would not see each other during the deed.

⚜️ Björn is a master of seduction, and he loves to show his affection through physical intimacy. Whatever he lays his eyes on isn't safe from his flirtatious attempts. Especially with you he loved to take his time. Playfulness was a form of embracing his love: he would tease you, give you soft pecks and would tickle you only to hear you laugh. From tender caresses to steamy embraces, every touch is filled with desire and longing. He'll tease and flirt shamelessly, always keeping you on your toes with his witty banter and mischievous grin. After all, you were the one for him.

♡....━━━━━━━........ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ........━━━━━━━....♡

#vikings x you #vikings x reader #vikings #vikings bjorn #bjorn ironside #bjorn x reader #Bjorn x you #bjorn headcanons #bjorn hcs

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 3 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for tagging me @timetravelingpenguin1066 <3

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

111.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

413,187.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Actively: House of the Dragon, The Last Kingdom and Ewanverse characters. Previously: Vikings, MCU, Game of Thrones, and a few miscellaenous characters played by the Skarsgård brothers.

4. top five fics by kudos

Who Taught You How to Love Like That?, Unbearable, Ride, Mine, Perzys se Rūkla (wow, I am popular with the Daemon crowd on AO3, who'd've thunk it?!)

5. do you respond to comments?

For a really long time I didn't, simply because I am a creature of procrastination and AO3 isn't a platform I check often. I think it got to something ridiculous like 400 unread comments, so I wiped them all and started fresh and since then I make a point to go in once a week and reply.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either Careless Words or My Body is a Cage

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably The Shielded Heart.

8. do you get hate on fics?

I did for As the Gods Intended - this person was really bent out of shape about the incest and abusive dynamic within the fic, but I went onto their page and all of their fics were Lucemond ones, which seemed hypocritical to me, so I blocked them!

9. do you write smut?

Yes.

10. craziest crossover?

I don't really do crossovers - I did a Tom Bennett/Billy Taylor cross over once. That's my only one. It's called Body Electric.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not an outright copy and paste, but I have fallen prey to mosaic plagiarism, and it feels equally violating. Especially when the person admits to it, but then refuses to rewrite the portions they've lifted from you.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, Unbearable was translated into Portuguese for Wattpad (with credit).

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, the unpublished Socussy fic - @bottlesandbarricades @targaryenrealnessdarling @em-writes-stuff-sometimes and I all created something nightmarish. It lingers in Google docs, like a beating heart beneath the floorboards.

14. all time favorite ship?

Floki and Helga from Vikings (I have previously written fics for this) and Tifa and Cloud from Final Fantasy VII (never written fics for this and never will)

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have yet to leave a WIP unfinished!

16. what are your writing strengths?

Characterisation, clear and concise prose.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I can be too objective.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I never use a translator, as I prefer the challenge of figuring it out myself. Particularly High Valyrian.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Vikings.

20. favorite fic you've written?

I'm currently very proud of Cozened Indigo.

No pressure tags: @vampire-exgirlfriend @emilykaldwen @targaryenrealnessdarling @moris-auri

@flowerandblood @barbieaemond @superprincesspea @exitpursuedbyavulcan

#tag games

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unassumingastartes · 1 year

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Part 2 of Heresy Era Primarch fan casts.

I'm still in the stage of my selections where I have very solid choices as to who I would like and why; I may reach a stage where I struggle either due to not being able to find a particular actor or due to not being very familiar with the character themselves.

Particularly for this post, I have had these actors in mind since becoming a fan of warhammer.

[The writing is subpar on the post imo at the moment :c but I'll edit it over the next few days to where I'm happy.]

Lion El'Jonson-

Charlie Hunnam.

In the wild forrests of Calaban ruled by chaos corrupted, warp tainted carnivorous beasts. There was one animal that survived by itself; it was small, ferocious and brave. It fought, killed and consumed all challengers.

Until it was discovered by a Knight named Luther. Just as the animal was about to be slain, Luther realised it was a small blonde haired boy. The boy had done the impossible and lived in a forrest, in which brave knights went to die. Luther named the boy Lion el'Jonson and raised him like a son; like a knight.

The Lion is powerful, honourable, knowledgeable yet secretive. Even amongst his brother primarchs he is a gold standard, he has proven himself time and time again. Charlie has also proven himself time and time again of being able to perform as a powerful leader. Especially in Sons of Anarchy.

Mortarion-

Gustav skarsgård.

I tried to stay away from casting multiple people from the same series, but I couldn't help myself with Gustav's performance in Vikings as Floki especially during his time in Greenland, being very reminiscent of Mortations time on Barbarus not just visually but the emotional performance was so powerful (which is saying something for that to stand out as Gustav is phenomenoal throughout all of Vikings). Through the harsh environment, the confrontations, the craving for hope where it's not. He cemented himself in my brain immediately as Mortarion.

Floki in the early seasons of Vikings all though he is an extremely tall, lanky unassuming ship builder but is utterly terrifying to even the most warforged veterans when he has to be.

As I referred to in part 1 Gustav has a something that is required to play a primarch a completely unique aura and ability to bring such characters to life.

Sanguinius-

Aaron taylor-johnson.

I have a very special place in my heart for Sanguinius as it was an image of him that got me interested in warhammer in the first place. Which is very fitting as his beautiful angelic appearance has the power to draw people to him and want to fight alongside him, but under resides the red thirst; a powerful curse of vampirism that afflicts sanguinius and his sons.

He is equal parts charismatic as he is fierce. People are drawn to the angel from Baal. Loved by most of his brothers especially loved by and close to his brother Horus Lupercal "The Warmaster."; The Angel was also afflicted by another curse one he shared with his brother Konrad as they both saw visions of the future... it gave Sanguinius hope but it did not do the same for Konrad.

Here is the link to part 1 incase you have stumbled across these posts out of order :3

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer community #death guard #mortarion #dark angels #sanguinius #fan cast #space marines #primarch #vikings #aaron taylor johnson #charlie hunnam #sons of anarchy #horus heresy #warhammer 40000 #40k #wh40k

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

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Rebuild Your Ruins, Part 3

Summary: you visit Floki for guidance, and to learn of your past

Pairings: Floki X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: language, casual talks about sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.3K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Floki!” Floki looks up from his tree, seeing you walking in the distance. His eyes squint at you before he shoos you away. “Floki!”

“Bah! Be gone with you! You being here only means one thing,” you giggle at his feigned grumpy old man act. Floki actually loves it when you come to visit.

Ragnar was tasked with training you in the ways of a Viking. Floki was in charge of your spiritual journey. Because of that your relationship became closer, more open. You allowed yourself to be honest and vulnerable with Floki, and he always helped you on your path to become the woman you were.

“Floki!”

“Away!” He grunts, but stands in front of you with his cheeky grin. “Why have you come today? Men trouble? Hehe,” he does his little giggle returning to create planks for a boat.

“No.”

“No,” he fakes an overly girly voice, continuing to laugh at you. “What guidance can I offer you today, Aesir?”

“Nothing. I just came to be in your presence. The sound of the water and your trees calm me.”

“Calm you,” Floki looks up at you, furrowing his brow in disbelief. “You’re never calm. You’re just like thunder. Loud and prone to outbursts.”

You grow quiet. Not much has been said to you about why Floki and Ragnar were sure that you were a gift to them by Thor himself. Letting them raise his daughter in the right ways.

Floki stops his motions, following your eyesight, before looking back at you, “You are troubled. Take it to the gods. After winter, we’ll go to Uppsala.”

“I don’t want to wait. I’d rather like to enjoy my time there,” Floki chuckles at you again, and you sling your head over to look at him. “What?”

“And just who are you enjoying your time with, hmm?”

You want to change the course of conversation. Tired of having these constant conversations of your life and your future. “Tell me the story of the day you found me.”

“Is that the story you really want to hear? Or would you prefer how I knew you were for us?” You stare down at the water below, kicking at the dirt, before heading into his house. “Ah, silence means I have you curious. It was a grand design of how you came to be reborn as Aesir.”

“A name that has cursed me.”

“And why is that? What is the Aesir?”

“Our high gods; Odin, Frigg, Thor, Baldr, and Hoar. I’ve learned all that. I was told that Ragnar was boastful in my name. Was my old one not good enough,” Floki shakes his head no, sitting himself on the bed. “Why?”

“You are of Thor.”

“Why? Why must you go around and say I am of Thor’s blood? I am nothing but a human, such as yourself.”

“You are a Viking, my dear. The days before we left for our raid, I was plagued with dreams from the gods. Odin told of how this would be a hard journey, but would be met with treasures beyond belief. And here you are.”

“Floki!” You whine, throwing yourself on a pile of furs. Everything always becomes more dramatic with Floki, because it drives him crazy. “You do not think of me as a treasure.”

“No, I don’t. You are a thorn in my side. Now, go,” you sit there silently, knowing that Floki would eventually offer more. You weren’t sure why the secrecy of their certainty of your lineage, but you needed to know. “Fine. I did dream of the gods. And the runes told us of Thor visiting this raid.”

Ragnar calls for the ship to be covered. Rain pelts them from all sides, and Floki holds tight to the mast. Saying his silent prayer while he looks out at the storm. Lightning bolt after lightning bolt lights up the night sky, and one too close to the ship.

Floki loosens his grip on the mast, and walks towards the front of the boat, “Ragnar, the gods have not cursed us. That is Thor! He is guiding us to the treasure, look!”

Another bolt of lightning hits, and Floki screams, his finger pointing into the distance. Ragnar comes behind him, and Floki laughs still pointing, until he sees Rollo’s disappointed look. “Look, Ragnar. Land. Thor’s hammer is beating his anvil, and showing us where we will be, but look. Pay attention, it will only happen once more. Oh mighty Thor,” a bluish bolt lights up the sky followed by a hellish thunder, and then another lightning hits a large tree on the land.

“There, I told you. His greatest weapon will be there. He’s showing us. Giving us his blessing, Ragnar.”

“What do you suppose the weapon is? Something for me to use?”

“No. No,” Floki giggles as the sky and Thor’s hammer puts on a show. So much lightning that it looks nearly daylight, “A gift that we will have to mold. His child, hehe. He showed me the child in my dreams. Even The Seer agrees, Ragnar. We’re having a child.”

Rollo brings the final load of their hoard, and chuckles at Floki, “I thought Thor had a gift for you and Ragnar,” he argues with the man, but Floki’s eyes look all around the broken tree.

“He does. Have faith.”

“Like Thor would gift you a child. Imagine that.”

“Shh,” Floki holds up a finger, spotting the top of your head. A tiny crown with sharp angles on it, giving it the appearance of lightning. “You’ll frighten her away,” Rollo looks right to the ground below the tree, and sees you jump up in fear, while Floki gives chase. “Nothing worth having is ever ever easy.”

He quickly gains on you, and you were much smaller than he had anticipated. A girl as well, but he knows it’s best not to question the gods. When he grabs hold of you, and he sees your face and tears in your eyes, he knows it to be true. You are who Thor promised him. You had a lot to learn about fighting and fear, but there was a strength burning through your veins, and then the tiny tiara, now covered by your hood.

Ragnar examines you just as close as the strange man, their eyes constantly on the jewelry on top of your head, and you wish you could take it off. Following them to the boat when you get a nasty look from a bigger man than Ragnar. His hazel eyes glaring at you as Floki and Ragnar help you in the boat.

“A child? A child in nothing but skirts. She won’t make it through the winters. And you think this is what Thor left for you?” Rollo says picking up your hair, examining this. “You should kill her.”

“No!” Your hand flings up, hitting him, and before Rollo can touch you again, Ragnar steps in front of you.

“The child is making the journey with us. She may one day defeat you,” Rollo snorts, throwing a bag of treasures with the rest. “That is your uncle Rollo, pay him no mind,” annoyed you sit down with your arms crossed, causing both Floki and Ragnar to laugh, “She’s a stubborn one. Tell me child, did you live in the palace?”

“I’m not royal,” he takes the jewelry off your head examining it, and you try and reach for it, only for your hand to be smacked away, “Give it back, my father gave me that.”

“Of course he did. Child, how do you know our language, hmm?” Crossing your arms again, you tilt your head up and away from Ragnar. “Who taught you?”

“My father.”

“And tell me,” Ragnar scoots closer to you. Grabbing your chin, he forces you to look at him, “Does he look like me? Braids, tall?”

“He’s a carpenter. Was.”

Floki rubs his hands together, smiling large at Ragnar, “He used a hammer?”

“Of course he did. And you slaughtered him. You took everything from me,” the reality of the fact that you were now at these giants' mercy finally setting in, but you don’t want to give them the satisfaction of crying.

“Hold it in, Aesir,” Ragnar whispers to you. “It’s a harsh world, and tears don't make it better. We are not killing you. You are not a slave. You are our equal. You will learn our ways, and you will be the greatest weapon that we have ever seen.”

“I am but a girl,” Floki laughs at you with that high pitched giggle. “I am a nobody.”

“You are a goddess,” Floki tells you, ignoring the harsh look that Rollo gives you. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Rollo, help her,” Ragnar hands him an ax, while you stand there in your new clothes, waiting on whatever direction he should give you. Your foot twists around in the dirt, as you stare sheepishly at Rollo, he wasn’t like Ragnar and Floki. “Rollo.”

“Why should I teach a slave girl our ways.”

“She is no slave. Do you see her being forced to do my bidding? She is Aesir, and she needs to learn different techniques. She is fast, and a good student. Go on,” Rollo shakes his head no, shoving the ax back in Ragnar’s hand. “One day she’ll be fighting beside you. It might help her to learn your techniques. She could be better at defending you.”

“She isn't one of us. You have fallen for one of Floki’s schemes.”

“And when she grows up, and is beautiful and strong, will you feel the same way? She is a fast learner. If she was not one of us, how could she pick up on this so quickly? Help her.”

“No. You are on your own, Ragnar.”

“Rollo never taught you anything, did he, Aesir?” Floki asks, finishing his story. He takes a bit of dried meat, offering some to you. “Why do you avoid Rollo?”

“I don’t like him.”

“Hmm, so what are you going to do about your little problem?” You throw your dried meat at him, standing to leave, “Sit down, Aesir. You didn’t come here to learn about your new life. You came here to talk about your boys. I have known you long enough to know that you need advice. Talk.”

Your eyes pan over to the fire, but offer no words. Floki using that voice meant it was best to not argue with him. “Can I tell you what I think?”

“What is that?” Your words hiss out of your mouth, finally looking at him. Floki was exceptional at reading you now. No matter what you said, he knew what you actually meant.

“I think that Bucky being a whore hurt you. You have heard us talk of your future. Bucky has always been in it. While he was off with other women, you went after his best friend to cause a scene. When you didn’t get it, you and Steve quit your fuckery.”

“You know nothing.”

“Oh, I don’t? Had you and Bucky not been in the open the other day, would you have had sex with him?” Shrugging your shoulders, you stand, picking up the few things that lay strewn about his Floki’s home. “And then there’s Ari. Every bit of a mystery to you, but a perfect specimen of a Viking. Tall, broad, muscles, and you can see yourself getting lost in his embrace. He’s new, and interested. But so is Bucky.”

“Bucky enjoys whores. Not a woman that could kill him,” Floki laughs at you, and you look around his home. People were talking as if you had a choice, while still giving you no choices. “So what if Bucky enjoying the company of another woman’s warmth hurt me? Me and Steve didn’t deter him, either. Why should I allow him to be with every woman, while I wait just on him?”

“Exactly. Why should you? So be with Ari?” The idea seemed easy. But you know deep down that you could never let Bucky go. He was meant to be yours, and now you would never know. “Or, why not both?”

“Floki!” You screech, and he laughs. His body awkwardly throwing back on the bed in a fit of giggles. “That is preposterous.”

“And you didn’t say no. Do you think the daughter of Thor could be faithful to one and not the other? You choose one, but you will always seek comfort from the other one. You know you would, Aesir. You can’t be tamed by one man. Two possibly. While in Uppsala, partake in the mushrooms, and have fun with both your warriors without shame. Of course, it might help if you had sex with them individually first. There is nothing to be ashamed of the passions of the body. They are natural. Take away those ten years that you were corrupted in thinking a woman should lay under one man. Bare his children, and become his servant. Let them serve you. Have fun with them. Decide on your own if you need both.”

“This is ridiculous. I came here for guidance and…”

“Aesir,” Floki stands, and you remember what sets your new people off from the old. They were giants amongst men. Fierce and terrifying with their looks alone. “You are spoiled, child. Always have been. You don’t do well with choices. You want it all.”

“And I can’t choose both,” you tell him heading towards the door.

“You should. It’s becoming dark. You won’t make it home. You know what happens when you arrive late. You’ll be forced to listen to Ragnar and Lagertha. Bucky’s house is closer,” you sling your hand at him, letting him know he’s being silly. “You know I’m telling the truth. Stay here then, or stay with Bucky for the evening. Who knows what will happen.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @smile1318 @whimsyplaty92 @sgtjaamesbaarnes @thebuckybarnesvault

#rebuild your ruins #vikings au #vikings #viking!bucky barnes #viking!ari levinson #floki #floki x reader #bucky barnes #ari levinson #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 11 months

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ch. 8 — frician (to desire)

notes: margaret by lana del rey was a big inspo for this one

summary: alethia arrives in kattegat

warnings: i dont want to give it away tbh. in a good way i promise!!!! jack we talked about this literally last night (its not to that extent but still hehe)

tagged: @demon-of-the-ancient-world @levithestripper @grantairescurls

general masterlist | series masterlist

Alethia

Lagertha was kind to her. She was glad that she did not end up alone, as she had feared, and yet, there was the perpetual feeling of only being wanted because she was linked to Athelstan.

They all stared.

She knew they whispered.

Still, Alethia boarded ship, successfully this time, making for Kattegat. Ecbert could not stop her, and she was not inclined to stay any longer than she had to. If only she could have felt as if this was where she was meant to be.

In truth, Alethia had no idea if this was the right thing to do. What if she was messing everything up, ruining things for Athelstan? This was his life, not hers, and it felt like she was intruding.

And still, Alethia followed Athelstan like John the Baptist, quiet like a shadow. In Kattegat, Athelstan helped her onto the docks. It was only when she touched those wooden planks that Alethia felt free.

She breathed in the salty air that was no different from the sea mere moments ago, and yet, entirely something else. This was to be her new home. Alethia would make it work, she had practiced enough for this moment for the entirety of her childhood.

The eyes glued to her back were there when Athelstan squeezed her shoulder, her hand, looked into her eyes with that gaze meant to comfort were not lost on Alethia. Rollo, Floki, Ragnar, Lagertha – they would not look away. Alethia wanted to turn around and hiss at them as she would have with King Ecbert, but instead, she ducked away and towards the Great Hall, disappearing in the feast that was being hosted for the return of the Vikings.

Athelstan kept his distance, as he had since they had met again. Alethia knew that there would be a gap between them, some sort of irrevocable change upon reunion, and yet, she ached for things to return as they had been.

They never had, not since she’d been a girl. And in that moment, Alethia felt ancient.

The woman with the feline eyes approached her a few hours into the feast, when Athelstan was still being held close by Ragnar, and most of the crowd had surmised to get drunk instead of doing anything meaningful for the remainder of the night. Alethia backed herself into a corner, where a cat curled around her ankles and she could nurse a cup of mead in peace.

Alethia knew that she was a queen the moment Aslaug approached her. She held herself with the same inherent dignity as Catelyn Stark had, as Sansa had. Alethia straightened her back, pushing herself up. The cat jumped away, disturbed by her sudden movements.

“Queen Aslaug.” Alethia said, bowing her head.

“How do you know who I am?” Aslaug asked. She was holding a bundle in her arms, the babe whom Alethia presumed to be Ivar sleeping lightly.

“You hold yourself as I would expect of a Götland princess.”

Aslaug raised one of those well-manicured brows, but she gave Alethia a small smile.

“Then you are the woman that plagues my dreams.”

“Sorry about that.” Alethia said.

“You have an accent.”

“Sorry about that as well.”

“It is all fair and well. I expect Athelstan has been teaching you to the best of his abilities.” Aslaug said. She took a seat next to where Alethia had been, patting the free space. The cat returned to Alethia’s lap.

“I dreamt of you. I am not… friends with Athelstan as my husband is, but I think in this, I understand him better than Ragnar does.”

Alethia looked down, scratching the cat between his ears.

“He loves you.” Aslaug whispered. Alethia paused, her heart beating wildly in her chest. When she looked over to Aslaug, the Queen of Kattegat was smiling.

Alethia did not know what to say, swallowing. She looked back down, clearing her throat, and a small laugh escaped Aslaug.

“Do you love him?” she asked. Alethia wanted to say yes, but the guilt of it strangled her, and she could not say a single thing. Aslaug sighed.

“You are good for him. He is not someone I understand very well, but Athelstan is a man who has suffered greatly. Even if he is a Christian, I can see that.”

“Thank you.”

“It is nothing.”

“It is everything.” Alethia protested. Then, she leaned back against the wall behind her, resting her head. “I was afraid of you, you know?”

“Me? I am not someone invocative of fear.” Aslaug replied.

“Please. You are a Götland princess. A völva. You see things others do not. I am not afraid of warriors. They all try to kill me, but so far, none of them have succeeded. Those that see beyond the fog of reality, they are the ones that scare me. You, Queen Aslaug, are one of them. You have my respect, and my admiration, no matter what others say about that.”

Now it was Aslaug’s turn to be speechless, but Alethia could not stay silent. She had to continue. The words built on the back of her tongue, forcing themselves out of her mouth.

“You are brave, too. I heard of Ivar and his disability. From what I understand of your culture, Northmen despise what they perceive to be weakness. I knew a boy like Ivar once. His name was Bran, and he was one of the most powerful men alive. No one thought he would survive what happened to him, but he did. Your Ivar… you have a right to love your son. He needs you.”

“Thank you.” Aslaug said. “And I… I know what happened to you. Most of it, anyway. The correct way to address you should be Queen, and not simply your name.”

“Please, do not.” Alethia replied.

“I won’t.” Aslaug promised. “I do not know how much the Gods showed me of your life, but I hoped that what I did see was all of the pain you experienced. It is enough for ten lifetimes.”

Alethia’s heart caught in her throat. She tried to stop the tears that pricked her eyes, right until she looked at Aslaug. When the Queen smiled at her, cold facade from a few hours ago gone, Alethia let them fall. She gave herself three minutes of respite before she cleared her throat.

“Queen Aslaug, may I ask a favour of you?”

“Almost any.” Aslaug replied.

“May I protect you? I would be honored to serve you and your children as a shieldmaiden, for I know you left many of yours behind when you came here. I do not wish to go to war anymore, but protecting a family, to protect children – that I can do. It is the sort of fierce gentleness I wish to embody.”

“Give it three moons. Rest. Then, we shall speak of what you have asked.” Aslaug promised. “But now, go. Find your priest. Do well by him.”

“I will.” Alethia promised. She did not expect Aslaug to cup her jaw, to lean forward the way she did, as if she was reading something behind Alethia’s eyes. The moment passed, Alethia shuddered, and then, she left. Aslaug turned to her son.

Athelstan

Ragnar whistled as Alethia approached them. Neither he nor she turned to look at the King. Alethia only stared at him, eyes somewhat bewildered. She looked lost, as if she’d forgotten where she was. Athelstan was fully aware that all eyes were on him as he crossed the distance between them and touched Alethia’s shoulder.

She looked right at him, green eyes boring into his own.

“Are you alright?”

Alethia looked down, and then back up at him again. She closed her eyes. “I need a break please.”

“Of course.” Athelstan said. “Go wait outside for me. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Alethia nodded, slinking towards the door. Athelstan turned to Ragnar, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. In that moment, Athelstan could not laugh at it.

“Nothing smart, Ragnar. Not tonight.” he said. Then, Athelstan followed Alethia outside. She was picking at her nails when he found her, and Athelstan watched as she hissed under one particularly painful tear. Suddenly, he was reminded of his mother. When Lillian had bad dreams, she would do the same thing. She had destroyed herself in the process.

Athelstan knew he was his mother’s child.

It was why he put an arm around Alethia, guiding her through the empty streets of Kattegat. Everyone was still in the Great Hall, celebrating. Everyone but the two of them.

He did not know why he brought her to his longhouse, but Athelstan felt the palpable sort of relief when the door to his home shut them out of the world outside.

Alethia spotted the portraits immediately. Athelstan had forgotten they were there, not having packed them away before he left for the raid. She went to them immediately, staring with wide eyes.

Gently, Alethia picked up a portrait of Floki, staring right at the viewer. Athelstan tried to swallow down his fear, stepping towards Alethia to explain.

“Athelstan these are…”

“I know I shouldn’t have.” Athelstan replied.

“What do you mean? They are beautiful. This one right here, it is exactly how Floki stares at you when you say something he does not like. And this one-” Alethia grabbed another piece of parchment, this time of Ecbert looking down at the subject. “It is exactly how King Ecbert sits his throne. Are there more?”

Athelstan hesitated. Of course there were. There was an entire sketchbook dedicated to Alethia , but he was not sure if he wanted to tell her that.

His silence was enough for her. “May I see them? Please? Your art is so beautiful.”

Art? His portraits were art?

“It is blasphemy.” Athelstan replied, shame making it difficult to breathe.

“Blasphemy? Athelstan, there are many things in this world that are blasphemy. This is not one of them. Trust me, I know.”

“How?”

“Because I love art. I have seen much of it. Van Gogh, Monet, Kahlo, Rubens, Gentileshi, Rembrandt, Michelangelo – you name it, I know it. Your portraits have spirit. Do you know the most important thing about art, Athelstan?”

“Portraiture must be used to portray the life of Christ. To display our belief to the world.”

“No.” Alethia shook her head. “No, that is not art. That is illustration. Art is that which makes you feel something. These portraits are that.”

Athelstan did not notice the tears until they tracked down his cheeks. He could not move, did not stop Alethia when she grabbed a small journal from his table. She looked at him with raised brows, and Athelstan nodded softly. Alethia opened it, and froze immediately.

He prayed she would not turn away from him for this. Alethia sat on his chair, looking at the first page. It was a portrait of her the day she had arrived in Ecbert’s villa. Alethia’s hand ghosted over her own features, careful not to touch the charcoal and smudge it. After a moment, she flipped to the next page. It was her side profile, this time sketched right after a long lesson of English grammar.

Her sitting on the edge of the roman bath followed, then Alethia balancing a sword, then only a collection of her features that Athelstan had practiced with, all disconnected. There was a sketch of her hand on her shoulder, tugging on an old scar. That was from the bath after Alethia had lost her child. Then, there was Alethia sharpening a dagger, Alethia talking to a serving girl, Alethia, Alethia, Alethia…

She paused on the page where Athelstan had sketched her right after the battle against the Northmen. Athelstan had struggled with it, because he had never drawn someone with nothing in their eyes. Portraying someone’s gaze to be empty was a thing of the almost-impossible. Alethia set down the journal, returning it to its rightful place, and Athelstan awaited judgement.

“Thank you.” Alethia whispered. “You have made me immortal in the only way I wish to be.”

Athelstan was a selfish man. “Which way?”

“That of love. I see your devotion, Athelstan. I see it in every line of each portrait. And then I have to look back up to you with empty hands in search of some way to thank you, and I have nothing. I am a beggar. I wish I had something to show for mine own character.”

“You need nothing.”

“I know. I know, but I wish to give you something, Athelstan.”

“Why did you trust me? Why did you tell me your secrets when you could tell me nothing else?” Athelstan asked.

Alethia smiled lightly. “When you know, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Alethia stood, the chair scraping on the wood. She took Athelstan’s hands. Gentle. The gesture should have felt repetitive. It never would, not to Athelstan.

“I saw you , standing behind King Ecbert in that damned courtyard. I saw you, Athelstan, and I saw your pain, your gentleness, your willingness to try, to give me a chance. Out of all the people there, you were the only one that did not regard me like an animal. Perhaps I saw my own pain reflected in you, but I do not want that to be it. I wanted… I knew that you would be right .”

Athelstan closed his eyes, trying to take another breath. Each one was harder than the one before, and the tears that had been isolated exceptions at first now ran down his face, hot and salty. He was not sure what they meant.

And then, Alethia’s hands were on his face again. They caressed his cheeks without guilt, with the gentleness of a million lifetimes that they did not have. Athelstan could have fallen at her feet right then and there.

She touched her forehead against his, wiping his tears. Athelstan let himself sob, only once, for all the pain he had let pass through him to avoid what he was doing now. He was ruining a moment, he was-

“It’s alright.” Alethia said. “Don’t force yourself to stop.”

Alethia was the only one he trusted to catch him if he fell, and so, he did. She held him as his senses left him and his shoulders buckled under the weight of everything he thought he’d forgotten about. Athelstan buried his face in the crook of her neck, there where the world meant nothing.

Time was meaningless where they stood, and for the first time in his life, Athelstan was not holding up the sky all by himself. The weight on his shoulders had not been lifted away entirely, but he was not carrying it alone, then.

Athelstan felt the storm brew in his stomach. It coiled itself, beginning to boil and bubble up into his throat, and then, his mouth was forced open. His arms turned against him and he left Alethia’s shoulder, looking at her. With violence, the words were taken out of his mouth and into the air, and Athelstan trembled with fear as he said them. But they were right.

“I love you.”

Alethia’s eyes widened, she froze, and for a moment, she looked scared. Then, her eyes softened, her mouth broke into a wide smile, and there seemed to be some of that violent love that had forced his vocal cords moving within her as well.

“I love you too.”

“How do you say it?” Athelstan said. The words broke out of him too.

“What do you mean?”

“Those words, how do you say them in your tongue? Your mother tongue, not any of the others. Your language. I want to say that to you in your language. If anything.”

“They mean more in my language. The way that you want to say them, they are impossibly heavy. It is not the same.”

“Good. I want it to mean something.”

“Ich liebe dich.” Alethia whispered. She said the words as if she was directing them at him, not teaching them to him.

“Ich liebe dich.” Athelstan repeated. Alethia laughed, air leaving her lungs, her chest rising in a rapid exchange of air.

“Ich dich auch.” Alethia replied. Athelstan knew what she had said, without any doubt. This time, it was Athelstan who moved first. Finally, he had the courage to kiss her. He was not so afraid that he had to ask, he simply did it.

His lips touched hers, and Alethia melted into him, pulling him closer. She was slow, languid, patient, nothing like that first time, where it was as if they had tried to cram everything into one kiss. Athelstan felt lost, unsure what to do, but as Alethia’s hands wandered to tangle in his hair, caress his jaw and neck, and her tongue dared to move further, he found some of that confidence that only Northmen and Ecbert seemed to possess.

And then, Alethia pulled him even closer. Athelstan was flush to her, his head began to spin, and he suddenly became overly aware of just how close they were. He knew what came next.

“We don’t have to.” Alethia whispered suddenly. “This is enough for me.”

“I trust you.” Athelstan replied. He felt no guilt, and he was not surprised at that. It was Alethia. How could the most sinful of things be bad with someone as beautiful as her?

No God could convince him that everything he was doing was wrong.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this.” Alethia said.

“I could not. Not with you.”

“But you… what about God?”

“Let God see that I love you, and if He condemns me then, I shall gladly accept the pain of it. It will have been worth it, for you.” Athelstan replied. Alethia’s eyes widened at his words, her hands digging into his tunic.

“Athelstan…” she began, but he shook his head.

“No more, Alethia. I am sure.”

Alethia nodded, and she kissed him again, leading him towards the bed. Athelstan felt his heart beat in his chest. He had only ever done this once, and then it had been under the influence of whatever Floki had given him. He did not know…

But Alethia was gentle, slow. She lied down on his bed, and Athelstan allowed himself to lie atop her, kissing her slowly. Alethia’s hands wandered, undoing the laces of his tunic. He was somewhat relieved to see that her fingers trembled as well. She pulled it over his head, barely breaking the kiss, and Athelstan shuddered as her hands ghosted over his chest, before she reached back up, fingers combing through his hair.

Athelstan could not help the quiet groan that escaped him as she kissed his neck, leaving a small bit at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

There was something within him that snapped, and Athelstan flipped her around so that Alethia sat atop him. He reached up, pulling her closer. His hands wandered, undoing her tunic now. Alethia leaned down, kissing him with a fervent urgency that left Athelstan dizzy. He slid the tunic down her shoulders, watching as the fabric fell. Athelstan could not take his eyes off of her, determined to commit every scar, every raised bump, everything he could see to memory.

“My eyes are up here.” Alethia joked. He laughed nervously, looking up, and that made Alethia laugh in turn.

“You can look.” she whispered.

“I’ll do a bit more if that’s okay with you.” he joked back.

“Oh?”

Athelstan let himself touch her, sins forgotten, let his mouth kiss her neck, kiss her collarbones, her shoulders, lower and lower, down her body. He dared to move her as if she was not immovable, a mountain against him, a man.

His hands found their place at her hips. Alethia rolled them with a knowing smirk, and Athelstan tried to suppress another groan.

“What are you staying quiet for?” Alethia asked, her hands travelling down his chest, his stomach, until-

She reached inside his pants with no shame, fingers wrapping around him deftly and sealing any sounds that could have left his mouth with a kiss of brazen challenge. Athelstan sighed into her mouth, already bucking up into her hand.

Gently, he stopped her by the wrist.

“What is it?” Alethia asked. “Do you want to stop? We can-”

“I want more. I want you.” Athelstan replied. Alethia nodded, making to undo her own breeches, but Athelstan knew with a firm suddenness that he wanted to do that himself.

“Lie down.” he said, his voice calm. He did not know where he was taking it from, the courage, only that he suddenly had it.

Alethia followed his words, lifting her hips as Athelstan removed the remainder of her clothes, until she was bare before him.

“That’s not fair.” she whispered. “I want to see you, too.”

“Be patient.” Athelstan reminded.

“Oh, patient, are we now?” Alethia teased. “I thought you wanted me so badly.”

She is in his blood, he thought. In his very bones, in the foundations of his body, his soul. And yes, God, he wanted her badly. But Athelstan was not going to rip the clothes off of her body and fuck her like an animal.

Maybe he could if she taught him.

For now, there was only the gentleness that he had promised her. She tugged at his pants again, impatient and Athelstan noted that Alethia was needy . The thought made him think of things he was better off keeping to himself.

Alethia undressed the rest of him, and now, there was truly nothing that Athelstan could hide. Her hand returned to him , and Athelstan thought that he could not wait any longer, which surprised him, considering that he thought he was patient. Apparently not when it came to her.

He gave her a half-question in the form of raised brows and she gave him a half-answer in the tiniest of nods.

Alethia guided his hips, looking up at him once more, and Athelstan gulped down the rest of his fear. He pushed inside her, and almost immediately, his eyes rolled into the back of his skull. This was not what he had been waiting for for over a year, but, God, wasn’t it a good reward anyway?

“More.” Alethia whispered. “I want all of it.”

He obliged, giving her the rest of what he had, until his hips were slotted against her pelvis. There was a thought in the back of his mind, one of the sort that he was finally holding her the way a husband was supposed to hold his wife, and it made his blood rush. He had not wanted to have her because of this, but it was a gift Alethia had given him.

Afterward, Alethia curled into his arms, still naked. Athelstan traced the scars on her back, the massive one on her abdomen, the ones on her thighs. There was an automatic anger as he saw the many small cuts that inched up towards her womanhood. Athelstan was not sure he wanted to know what had been done to her.

The cuts that littered her stomach scared him more. How was she still alive? It didn’t matter, what did was that she was alive.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her collarbones, and, finally her lips, as if Athelstan had not done that enough already. He knew there was a dark bruise at the base of his neck where she had bit him. It was little surprise to him that Alethia liked to scratch and tear, and more that he had enjoyed it.

“Do you feel sinful?” Alethia asked.

“No. But I…”

Athelstan trailed off. It was not the right time, nor the right place. He would keep the question for another time.

“Did you like it?” he said instead.

“I did. I hope you…”

“Yes. It was… I do not know how to…”

“Call it mindblowing.” Alethia winked. Her smile was sardonical, and Athelstan snorted.

“Worldchanging.”

“Thank you. I always knew I had superpowered… you know what, I’m not finishing that joke.”

“Thank you.”

“Rude.” Alethia teased. Athelstan turned onto his back, pulling the blanket over him and Alethia. She put her head on his chest, and he knew that she was listening to his heartbeat. Athelstan thought that it was Alethia’s way of making sure he was alright.

“Why did you draw me?”

“Because you are the light that illuminates my life.”

“Adoringly poetic.”

“Hmm.” Athelstan hummed. “I loved you since I laid eyes on you, I think.”

“Really?” Alethia asked.

“Truly. And there is something about you that makes drawing you an utter joy.” Athelstan admitted. “Your eyes…”

“The eyes are the window to the soul.” Alethia recited.

“I like that.”

“I knew you would.”

“You are impossible to ignore.” Athelstan whispered. “I love you for it, my lady. My lady, my love, my light.”

Alethia smiled. There was no pain in her features, and her muscles were not tense. It was everything Athelstan could have asked for.

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