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survivingthejungle · 5 years

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foreigner’s god iii

absolutely none of u want this but you know what?? im fucking posting it anyways bc i LIKE IT

so here’s part 3

If the bond between the sons of Ragnar hadn't already been split after avenging their father, then they certainly were the moment that Ivar picked up his axe and launched it into Sigurd's chest. But when Ivar offered that his brothers remaining were welcome to join him on his journey to continue conquering more land and searching for the princess he had met not long before, something stirred in Hvitserk's heart. He was willing to look past the atrocity that Ivar had committed, if only for a while, if it meant that the dream he had been having could finally be answered.

When the youngest Ragnarson happened upon Floki and Helga planning to leave with their stolen child from Andalusia, he was half surprised that he was able to convince them to stay around for him. He was honestly devastated by the fact that he'd murdered his own brother, and Floki knew this better than anyone: one look at Ivar begging them to stay with him was all that he needed to know that Ivar would crumble without the one person who'd always been there for him. "My heart is broken," he whispered, voice hoarse from sobbing.

Floki hugged him tightly. "It will repair," he promised. "Think of your Liusaidh. Ivar the Boneless, scourge of the world. You will survive this."

—

"The Saxons are in disarray. This is a good opportunity. We have the resources to make a permanent settlement," Ubbe reasoned.

"D'you agree, Ivar?" Hvitserk silently hoped that he wouldn't, but his tone remained impartial.

"I don't want to disband the army. In fact, I want to continue the war against the Saxons while we are still in a position of strength! My suggestion is that we go back north, to where we defeated Ælle. We should establish a permanent camp, as you say," he gestured to Ubbe, "But near the coast. From where we can raid wherever we want."

"Our father's dream," Ubbe argued, using a half eaten chicken leg to punctuate his point, "Was that we wouldn't be just raiders. That we would behave in a different way." "You're not listening, Ubbe. We- we have to have a stronghold. If we go north, we are closer to our own lands, and shipping routes… we can build an impregnable fortress." "Where?" Hvitserk goaded.

"I've heard of a town. Called York." His brothers, clearly interested, stopped eating for a moment to listen. "It is built on a major river and it is not far from the sea. And I think that… we should take it."

Ubbe dissented. "No. It would seem like a withdrawal."

"Yes. Yes, it would," Ivar concurred, "But it is only tactical. Surely you understand, Ubbe, if we establish ourselves in the middle of the country, then we are surrounded by enemies! In York, we are near our home. Right, Hvitserk?" Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe, hopeful. "I agree with Ivar. We should go north, and take York."

"That's good," Ubbe said, fake cheerfully, and left the tent. Hvitserk and Ivar shared a look.

"What about your Princess in Inis, Ivar?" Hvitserk prompted. "York is not near that other coast."

"No," he admitted, "But that is why we are going to Inis first, and then taking York."

"What do you mean?" he promptly spat back. "You just said— "

"I know what I said to Ubbe. But, brother, we are going to raid the other kingdom first, take what I am seeking, and then return to York. And…" he paused for a brief moment. "I am sure there is something you would like from Inish as well. The princess has plenty of sisters," he suggested.

Hvitserk wouldn't show it, but the thought of that excited him. He wondered if the girl that kept appearing in his dreams could possibly be one of the sisters Ivar mentioned.

—

"They're coming." Liusaidh woke up early in the morning, gasping for air like she hadn't breathed in hours. She had burrowed into Caridwen's side in the middle of the night during a particularly loud thunderstorm. The mac Neíll children all loved the rain, of course, but it was somewhat of a ritual for them to all gather in Caridwen's room when there was a midnight storm.

Niamh, on the other side of Caridwen and not moving a single inch, called out muffled by the covers, "What are you on about, Lius?"

"Vikings. They're coming. I— I had a dream about it. They're in England and they're coming to Inis."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brigid called from the other end of Caridwen's bed. "Vikings don't want to come here."

"I'm not kidding, both of you! It was like a vision; like I could see it happening in real life, but sped up very fast."

Labhraín was only half awake at that moment, but understood perfectly what Liusaidh was describing. "She's right," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm having a dream like it."

Caridwen, now fully awake and aware, sat up and got out of bed, walking over to her nightstand and pouring a jug of water into a bowl to wash her face. "Well then," she mumbled, "I suppose we should tell someone?" Brigid nodded.

"We should tell Morrigan, she knows all about these things."

"What do I know all about, you wee rascals?" Morrigan asked, entering into Caridwen's room to prepare them for the day.

"Liusaidh and Labhraín have been havin' the same dream about the same wee Vikings comin' to the island," Brigid told her. Morrigan nodded.

"Well then, wains, I'd say we'd better figure out what it all means then, wouldn't you?"

—

The princesses all trailed alongside or behind Morrigan as she led them to the drawing room in their section of the castle where they would all have their lessons— though, for today, instead of learning embroidery or music or writing, they'd be learning how to interpret the youngest mac Neílls most recent dreams. As the five young ladies took seats all around the room, Morrigan instructed Liusaidh and Labhraín to sit in front of her and relay their dreams in as much detail as they could recall.

Liusaidh went first, informing them about how she saw their beloved home, billowing in smoke, being plundered and pillaged by Viking raiders; how she saw her sisters all being pulled away from one another, while one group fled to safety and the other was lead to the Viking ships; how she could clearly see the face of the Viking boy that they had met in England not so long ago, and how he was the one dragging her away from her destroyed home.

Labhraín, still mildly bothered by Liusaidh's own dream, was then instructed to share her own. It had been recurring for several nights, and always the same: the same bloodied Viking man charging at her, always running away, but never fast enough, and being captured and dragged away to their heathen ships. Morrigan nodded understandingly upon hearing both dreams while the other three sisters waited with bated breath to hear her conclusion. "Well, lasses, it seems we have some mystics on our hands. Those are purely prophetic dreams if I've ever heard 'em— and I have, best you believe. What we're to do now is tell your Ma and Da all about what you've been seein', and let them decide how to deal with it."

—

As it turned out, the girls' parents decision on how to deal with it was to simply not deal with it at all. Despite all Morrigan's attempts to convince the king and queen that their daughters' dreams were truly seeing the future, and that they had much to fear, they couldn't be made to believe it.

"Girls," their father began, "I know that you believe that your dreams are tellin' the future. But I can promise you, with all I know, that it's simply not gonna happen! Your dreams are just the results of having too active imaginations, and from bein' at each other's sides all the live-long day. Lord above, you'd think the two wains were more twins than the actual twins," their father muttered to their mother, who simply nodded in response. "Now go to your studies please, all of you. Thank you for letting us know about your concerns, lasses, but there's nothing to worry about."

—

The next morning, Ivar and Hvitserk took off with a small band of men — enough to do damage, but not enough to make the rest of their great army less powerful— and headed off toward the opposite coast to sail to Inis. They'd informed Ubbe at the last minute, telling him of their plans to capture the kingdom and steal away a princess or two, and he was less than pleased with the idea. "You can't just raid an entire country on a whim, Ivar," he'd scolded, "These things have to be planned. What if you don't take enough men and get everyone killed, huh? This is a horrible idea. And what if the Saxons push us out while you are one?"

"The Saxons could not push us out no matter how hard they try; even if I take some men away for now. We are still stronger than them in every possible way, Ubbe. Have faith, brother! We have a plan. We know their kingdom does not have a very strong army. It will be an easy raid. Like when father sacked the monastery at Lindisfarne so long ago. There is nothing to worry about; and we will be back before you can even miss me," he smirked smugly, patting his oldest brother's cheek.

And so, despite his protests, Ivar and Hvitserk headed west to Inis, to capture the kingdom of Tara and, perhaps, even some princesses.

—

Within a week of Liusaidh and Labhraín's dreams first recurring, there had been news that Caridwen's betrothed, Alfred, was deathly ill, that the kingdom of Wessex had been taken over by Vikings, and that a band of "rogue" Vikings were heading west. Caridwen, who hadn't seen Alfred in close to three years, was devastated. There was no news that he had died (yet), but his mother Judith claimed that he wasn't showing signs of recovering any time soon. The two young royals had exchanged letters back and forth rather regularly after they'd first met one another all those years ago, and she was distraught that he was so ill and so far from home.

Her mother and father were concerned as well; not only for Alfred's health, but also for their daughter's future. "If Alfred doesn't survive, who will be left for her? His brother? Christ in heaven, Danu, it's not that I want to send the girl away, but we need this alliance."

"All we can do for now is pray, Aéd. We can't start makin' arrangements for the wain before anything even happens. Have faith that he'll be alright. If only for Caridwen."

Eoghan and his younger sisters, minus the eldest, were more concerned about the whispers of rogue Vikings and that they were coming west. Out in the forest once again, climbing trees and picking berries, they discussed their theories.

"Labhraín and I told you all that Vikings were coming. We had dreams and everything, but you didn't believe us."

"You don't even know that they're coming here, Liusiadh," Niamh called up to her sister, sitting on a tree branch and whittling a twig she'd found. "Y'have one dream and all of a sudden think you're a mystic; sweet Jesus."

"Niamh! You watch your words talkin' about the Lord!" Eoghan chastised her. The two of them were sitting below the trees on a quilt that they'd brought from the castle.

"Aye, Niamh, you shouldn't swear," Brigid called from beyond the bushes, picking berries. "Because when you swear, our Lady in Heaven, she cries her tears; and then make rain." She appeared in the clearing with the rest of her siblings. "Isn't that right, Eoghan?"

He stared at her for a moment, baffled, before slowly nodding. "Aye… so it is, Brigid. So it is." Brigid, pleased with his assurance, nodded once and smiled before hopping back off to pick more fruits.

"I think you're all dense as rocks for not believin' our dreams," Labhraín called. She was sitting on a tree branch opposite Liusaidh, weaving together flowers that she'd picked on their way to the forest. "Even Morrigan said so."

"Eoghan?" Liusaidh called to her brother. "How long d'you suppose it would take some Vikings to reach our coast from Wessex?" Physically, she was trying her hardest not to appear bothered; but the shaking of her voice betrayed the steadiness of her face.

"Week, week and a half maybe, Lius," he told her honestly. Eoghan was never the type to lie to someone for their own comfort. "But there's no way to know for sure whether or not these Vikings are even trying to come to Inis."

"Aye, not until they show up right on the coastline," Brigid deadpanned. "'Course, by then, it's too late. Y'know, because we're already trapped."

"Christ, Brigid! D'you have any damn empathy for your sister at all?" Niamh yelled. Eoghan, peeved with her profanity, launched an elderberry at her forehead. "Catch yerself on, Eoghan," she shot at him.

"What's your problem lately, Niamh?" Labhraín asked. "Just gets me angry that you're all actin' as if there isn't something wrong when there clearly is." After a beat of silence, she continued. "Our oldest sister's bein' married off to a wain she met one time; and if that wain dies 'cause he's sick, then Da will make her marry his older brother, who might as well be an old man. And no one seems to care except me, not even Caridwen. And here you and Liusaidh are havin' dreams about Viking raids! And no one's been battin' an eye at any of it! It's pretty damn disgraceful, if you ask me!"

"Take a deep breath, dheirfúir. You'll pass out," Brigid reminded her through a mouthful of elderberries.

"Brigid," Niamh started, eyes closed and eerily calm. "I'm this close to launchin' you off that cliff." Brigid backed up a pace, eyes widening for a moment.

—

They came in the early hours of the morning.

The two youngest, still plagued by their possibly prophetic dreams, awoke a while after the witching hour, and found their way to one another in the castle's dim hallways. It was Liusaidh's idea to take the horses out and ride to clear their minds; while Labhraín didn't agree at first, she eventually caved. The girls left without stirring a single person in the castle from their sleep.

They were too far inland from the coast to see the ships landing on the shore or hear the hollers coming from aboard.

The sun had only just begun to rise on the day that their futures would be altered forever.

—

"This is the place, Ivar? You're sure?" Hvitserk asked. They were just moments away from reaching the shore.

"Exact place? No, Hvitserk, I am not sure. I have never been to this place before, have you?" he snapped. "If it is not here, we will find it. But I know it is the right country."

"I can only hope, Hvitserk muttered. When the ships were beached and the castle was in sight, the rogue band of Vikings poured out onto the sand; and once Ivar's chariot was prepared, they headed toward the place where he prayed to the fates that his Liusaidh would be.

—

After the girls had calmed themselves during their walk in the forest, they returned to the open field to find their horses gone. "Maybe they got spooked by a snake," Labhraín tried.

"There are no snakes in Inis, fool. Remember Naomh Pádraig?"

"Something else, then. A bear, maybe?" "I hope not." They shared a solemn look and took off back toward the castle. "I'm sure they went home, though."

"We should hurry back, then. In case anyone sees them without us and thinks we're in trouble."

Once the walk was purely downhill, the girls were shocked at the state of their castle home. There were ships surrounding the coast, the gates were destroyed, windows were smashed, almost everything outside, was turned over or broken, and — there were Vikings. Real life Vikings. Everywhere. They were frozen on the spot, unable to say or do anything out of pure shock, until one Viking took note of them and pointed them out to the one who seemed to be the leader. He was riding a chariot pulled by a white horse, and was the only one not running around and wreaking havoc, so he must have been the one in charge. He took off uphill toward them and they ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, their bodies working faster than their brains.

—

Ivar called for his brother. "Hvitserk!" he yelled, "There are two of them. Maybe one is the girl from your dream!" It was obvious that Ivar was making fun of him, but his curiosity piqued and got the best of him; he followed his brother's chariot as fast as his legs would move towards the ones Ivar was chasing after.

—

He was gaining on them and they were running out of options. They still had not reached the top of the hill, and the girls' legs were going weak on them. Labhraín tripped over a well-hidden rock, which put Liusaidh plenty of paces ahead of her. She almost stopped when she realized that her sister had fallen, but the chariot was getting too close. "Keep running, Liusaidh!" Labhraín called, and she obeyed her sister. She took off parallel to where she'd fallen, hoping to deter him from getting to her instead, and it seemed that her plan worked. The man in the chariot, wearing a heavy-duty metal helmet, took one look at Labhraín and went after the youngest instead. He was gaining on her faster and faster, and was getting closer and closer, until all Liusaidh could do was look straight ahead and pray to God he was farther away than he sounded.

Her prayers were not answered in the way that she was hoping. All of a sudden, the white horse and chariot were running up ahead of her and came to an abrupt halt, blocking her path. She was met face to face — well, face to helmeted face — with the man who had been pursuing her for so long. "Hello, Liusaidh. It is so nice to see you again."

That voice, she thought, it sounds so familiar.

He took off his helmet. It was the Viking prince she had met all those years ago in Wessex — it was Ivar the Boneless. "You are so tired from running," he observed, and suddenly she was too aware of her panting breaths and heavy legs. She noted that he was speaking in English to her. "Why don't you come up here and sit down?" he offered.

"Níl aon slí," she spat at him, glaring daggers. "Bastaird Lochlannach."

He smiled condescendingly. "Well. I do not know what you just said, but I can tell that it wasn't very nice. Am I correct?" She remained stone cold. "I don't want to hurt you, Liusaidh. But you need to come with me willingly, or we will have problems." Still, she refused to move. He entertained her defiance for a moment, but was fed up with it very quickly. "You know," he started, "It would be such a shame if anything happened to your other sisters back at the castle. My men are there now, making sure they don't do anything… irrational. But if I were to give them permission… Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy to hear what would happen to them— "

"Stop," she interrupted him in English. "Don't… don't hurt my sisters. I'll go. Just leave my family alone."

"Very wise. Come on, then," he gestured to a small, bench-like seat next to him on the chariot. "It isn't very Christian to keep your guests waiting, is it?" Begrudgingly, she accepted his outstretched hand to pull her up into the chariot, and sat down uncomfortably next to him. He refused to let go of her hand, instead bringing it up to his mouth. "You know," he began, the horse heading back to the castle and the shoreline, "I have been very excited to see you again since we last met. Do you remember? In Wessex?"

"Yes," she hoarsely whispered. "I remember."

"That was the last time my father was alive. Did you know?" She shook her head. "King Ecbert pawned him off to be killed. My brothers and I began planning our revenge as soon as we heard. And we finally got it, all these years later."

"Why did you come here? We had nothing to do with your father's death."

"Oh, I know." He released her hand and brought his own to smooth over her hair, like he was petting her. "I did not come here for revenge. I came for you."

She was speechless, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"You know, I never forgot about you," he told her, seemingly changing the subject. He smiled down at her. "I always knew that I would find you again one day."

—

While her sister took off in the other direction, Labhraín realized that the man on the chariot was not the only one chasing them. There was a man coming after her on foot, sword in hand, blood splattered on his face; she got an overwhelmingly unsettling feeling of deja-vu.

He seemed to feel it, too, because she could swear that she saw his eyes widen in realization when he saw her face. If it were at all possible, he began running toward her even faster. She stumbled over herself in a rapid attempt to stand back up and began running as fast as her legs would move her. She periodically looked back over her shoulder to take note of how close he was, and he was rapidly gaining on her. The hill still had yet to peak, and she was losing energy.

She misjudged a crucial step and stumbled again, and her exhaustion caught up to her as the Viking did. (She realized now, what was so familiar to her — this was her dream. This was going to happen all along. She couldn't escape it.) She could hear him breathing heavily, getting closer and closer, footsteps pounding on the ground. He grabbed her arm roughly, once he was within reach of her, and pulled her toward him.

He brought his sword to her back to keep her from trying to escape and brought his other hand to grab her face now. He said something to her in what she could only assume was Norse, a bone-chilling smile on his face. At her terrified and confused expression, he repeated himself in English. "It's you."

"Níl aithne agam ortsa." She tried to shove him off of her and escape the pressing sword, but he held her tighter in response.

"Ah," he warned. "We've already defeated your people. It will be best for you to obey me. Come," he ordered, and she glared defiantly instead. He adopted an evil smirk and ran his thumb over her lips; she felt half tempted to bite, but decided not to. He then abruptly grabbed the back of her head and brought his sword to her neck, eliciting a small gasp, and maneuvered them both so that he was behind her, hand guiding the small of her back and sword still ready to slice. "You are a stealthy little thing, you know?" he mumered in her ear. "You have been showing up in my dreams at night for quite some time. I was beginning to think that I would not ever find you."

"What do you want from us?"

"Oh, I don't care for anything your kingdom can give me. I only wanted you. And now that I've gotten when I came here for, I will go back to England with my brothers, and we will take over York."

"Alright," she tried to reason. "You've gotten me. You've gotten what you came here for. Then you must leave immediately and not harm my people."

"That's not my decision, pretty girl. You will just have to hope that your sister doesn't anger Ivar. He is in charge of all of this," he gestured to the scene before them. Hundreds of violent Viking warriors running amuck and causing panic in the streets of Tara.

A thousand more questions ran around her head, but she took a deep breath — the sharp metal of Hvitserk's sword pressing into her throat — and remained silent, tilting her chin up just a hair. If she was going to die, she would die with all the dignity she could muster.

—

They all four returned back to within the city walls not long after the two girls had been captured. It was evident that Hvitserk had not been lying when he said that Ivar was in charge of the army, because when he entered into the crowd of violent foreign invaders with Liusaidh at his side, they all fell silent and watched him closely, as if they were a pack of hunting dogs and he was their master returning with a fox. He stopped the chariot briefly, yelling something out to his warriors, and they all turned back the way they came and headed back to their longboats.

Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a panicked look when the two men who had seized them led them into the castle instead. "Dúirt sé go raibh grúpa fir ina ngiall," Liusaidh informed her sister, refusing to speak English in front of the two men.

"An gceapann tú go ndéanfaidh sé iad a mharú?"

"Níl — níl a fhios agam," Liusaidh croaked, a heavy tear sliding down her cheek.

Ivar interrupted their conversation. "I hope you are not trying to plan an escape," he threatened, grabbing Liusaidh roughly by the hair and forcing her to look at him.

"We're not!" she cried, scalp burning sharply.

"Good," he responded, "Because it would not end well." He released his hold on her and lightly tapped her cheek. Ivar abandoned his horse and chariot and instead grabbed a pair of very heavy-duty metal crutches. He also grabbed two short spare ropes, throwing one to Hvitserk, and tied Liusaidh's wrists together, leaving enough on one side to pull her along with him like a very tragic leash. Hvitserk did the same to Labhraín's wrists, tying them so tightly that she gave a weak yelp when he tugged on them. He said nothing, nor did he make any attempts to loosen then, only smirking darkly.

They entered into the castle, quickly finding where the Viking warriors were keeping the rest of the royal family hostage. They were in the girls' music room; Caridwen, Brigid, and Niamh were still in their simple white cotton nightgowns, same as Liusaidh and Lahbraín. Their father and brother were both wearing soft cotton trousers, one pair brown and the other a dark grey. Eoghan's tunic was a shade of white like his sisters' clothes, and King Aéd was wearing a deeply dyed red one. Their mother, also in her nightgown, had managed to also throw a deep green cloak over herself, dreading to be seen by such heathen invaders in her sleepwear. Ivar spoke to his men, surrounding the family with swords pointed and ready, in their native language, and the men backed away. "Your highness," he began, mock-bowing before King Aéd and still holding onto Liusaidh's rope. "We are very sorry to disturb your sleep. My most sincere apologies. But we got what we came for, as you can see." He lifted Liusaidh's hands with the rope, and Hvitserk did the same. The two girls looked pleading and sorrowful to their family, but understood that it would be much too risky for any of them to make any sudden movements. "So we will be on our way now. — And, don't try anything when we leave. I have made a promise to sweet Liusaidh here that I will not kill any of you, but if you try to hurt me or my brother... my hand may slip," he threatened. He then barked an order to his men to leave the castle and head back to the longboats, and he and Hvitserk turned and headed back the way they came, leaving the mac Neílls to their own devices in their ransacked castle. They stayed put, too afraid to move a finger (for Liusaidh and Labhraín's own safety, they could hardly claim to understand the thought process of these heathens), as the girls were dragged back outside.

The four of them exited the castle doors and, when Hvitserk shut and barred them, one of Ivar's personal guards presented him with a lit torch. "What are you doing?" yelled a panicked Labhraín, both at Hvitserk and Ivar — whoever would listen. "You said you wouldn't hurt them!"

"I said we wouldn't hurt them. If they can't escape the fire, well… that's not our fault. Hvitserk! Set it."

—

Liusaidh and Labhraín were dragged away by a handful of Vikings, becoming too fidgety for just one person to keep a grip on them. Thrown onto Ivar and Hvitserk's boat — the biggest one of the fleet — they could do nothing but watch their castle home go up in smoke as they sailed away from the shore and due east.

Neither of them had the will or the energy to protest as their ankles were bound and another rope was tied to connect their wrists to their feet. Ivar hobbled on his crutches to take a seat at the edge of the boat next to Liusaidh. His gloved and rough hand ame up to stroke the side of her face and brush through her hair. "You will forget about them one day. And you will learn to be happy with me," he promised, but the promise to her sounded more like a threat.

—

At the back of the boat, Hvitserk had seated himself next to Lahbraín. He brought her a spare blanket, placing it around her shoulders as she couldn't do it herself. He placed his palm on her cheek and brushed a tear away. "I am not a bad man like you think," he told her in a low whisper. "You will understand that eventually."

#vikings #foreigner's god #vikings fic #floki #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarson #ubbe ragnarson #ubbe lothbrok #hbo vikings #history vikings #ivar x reader #ivar x oc #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x oc

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