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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Scheming Genius:

“Just when I thought I was Running out of time The King stood trembling at my bedside”

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

(Masterlist) (Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I know it’s been along time since I have last updated one of my series but... I have just been having a lot of problems with the newest chapters of this series, because basically... I do know the events I want to take, but not what I want to write, so I can’t help but feel like what I write is never enough.

So I just wanted to apologize if this is utter shit.

Also this is shorter than usual and I just want to say that this should have been longer but I just... I just felt like I had to post this and then add more, also because I know that all my chapters are just too long.

I do hope that even if it isn’t the best you’ll enjoy it!

As always: this series means so so much to me, so any feedback is more than welcome, everything starting from comments to reblogs, just LET ME NOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Feedback makes our fingers write faster and our heart beat faster!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: The truth is out and the heart that you gave so freely is now broken and yet your strength never falters, conjuring a dangerous plan to be finally free. But is it truly what you want.

WORDS: 10, 9 K

WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate, Blood and Period.

Your breath came harder and harder till it choked and you lost your rhythm.

Your legs failed under you and you were solely able to stop yourself from completely falling head first on the ground, pushing your legs towards the earth.

You did bruise them, but you didn’t care as you brought them in your unfocused stare.

They were dirtied and bloody.

Not solely because you had fallen down.

And the blood on them wasn’t solely yours.

Still you hadn’t much time to think, as you heard male-like steps, hard and heavy on the ground, breaking twigs under their boots.

And fear flooded your system as you reached out for a knife trying to search at your belt and then lower, on your thigh, where you remembered having strapped up a knife.

But now it wasn’t there.

And you realized that it was probably still in the body of the man you had stabbed.

That certainly didn’t ease any of your fear, but your body seemed to have set itself up on either a running away or fighting stance, hence the sense of guilt for having stabbed a man etched itself in the back of your mind as you tried to move away.

Your legs were still too weak and soon you were dragged against the cold soil again.

And there you stayed, your nails pushing themselves in the dirt, as you tried to push yourself flush against the ground, hoping that confusing yourself with the ground would help.

And you prayed with all your last beliefs that you would be spared.

Your lungs constricted and before you knew it you were choking on air.

‘Not again’ you prayed desperately, closing your eyes ‘… I don’t want to die’.

It was now day after the revelation of the previous night.

You had been accompanied by both Caryn and Lia back in your tent, the women trying to coo you in a comforting way, but you didn’t even notice it in your unresponsive state.

It was as if you had closed yourself completely from the world, in a way that left you only overthinking yourself constantly.

You felt stupid.

Which was an awful thing to feel for you, having always considered your intelligence your sole talent.

And to know that it had failed you this much, it only brought you to the realization that your father’s poisonous words were true.

‘You, stupid girl with no purpose’

They echoed, right as you saw the room in front of you deforming into something awful,: your room in the castle as figures appeared in front of you, Kathleen laying on the ground having been struck down, meanwhile Abigail knelt in front of her shaking her awake, as you pushed yourself in front of your father.

One last attempt to protect Kathleen.

But as his eyes met yours, they were daringly blue.

Ivar’s.

That was what brought you back from that horrid vision.

And then there was ruffling with your tent, as you turned to its door, finding thankfully that it was Caryn, her dark curls lightly exiting the tight hairstyle she had chosen for the day.

She looked so beautiful.

And it just reminded you of how truly cunning Ivar could be.

He had outsmarted you, once, and he would do it again.

“You look like you haven’t slept, my lady” commented Caryn, unsure, although her voice was so sweet that it broke you inside and before you knew it, sobbing escaped your chest.

“… I did” because a paralyzing deep slumber had taken you, but it hadn’t brought you neither relief neither comfort, and it was difficult for you to remember the sole dream of that night.

Which meant it wasn’t something that you wanted to remember

“… but my body wishes for a sweet dream, before it faces the reality of things”.

Caryn smiled halfheartedly, something nostalgic in her plump lips and her longing eyes, as if she knew and could understand what you felt deep down, something that only awakened rage in your body.

You had always been babied like you didn’t have a brain and the way she acted with you just brought that back.

You had always believed what others had told you.

What your own father fed you through fear and harsh teachings.

What your books had fed you, fantasies and love stories that had now brought you to believe that the touch of a pure maiden might tame the beast.

But the beast was already corrupted.

And it would have just eaten the maiden, had she come too close.

For a moment yesterday, at the feast, you had thought about a possible life with him.

A life in which you didn’t have to be your father’s spy and you could enjoy the tenderness of the soft feelings you were starting to develop for Ivar.

But you would never have the chance to do such a thing, now.

He had killed his own brother in cold blood.

You had read that on his face when you had asked him if it was the truth.

If Ubbe hadn’t simply said a lie to tear you apart.

And you didn’t know what his brother had done, but it never could be as much as the treason that you’d have to do to him on your father’s beliefs.

Just because he had showed you some love it didn’t mean that this would be how your life would have for ever been.

You had always lost yourself too easily in the fantasy of perfect worlds, fantastic beyond everything and where you could live happily ever after, like the few fables you enjoyed listening when you were smaller.

You had been the biggest fool, truly believing that this would be just another one of them.

You got yourself dressed mechanically, but your mind didn’t shut down in the slightest as it elaborated strategies and thoughts till it got too much and you were suddenly locked inside of your mind in a drunken stupor for everything around you.

Till Hvitserk showed up in your tent.

You didn’t want to see him, but deep down a desperate part of you ached for some kind of confront with the brothers.

To know something that could justify Ivar’s actions.

But deep down you knew it wouldn’t have eased your aching soul.

“… you looked like you haven’t…”.

Why was everyone so concerned with your sleeping?

“… I know” you shot back, with an harsh glare on your face, no need of any pretense with the man you had thought was your brother, although he had betrayed you two times.

“(Y/N)…” he rushed in immediately, probably hearing the annoyance in your tone, the tight rumble of the last word “… this isn’t something that…”.

“… that might concern me?” now your rage, which had been shot down by your tiredness and sleepless night, flared up completely “… he is my husband, Hvitserk! And Sigurd would have been my brother-in-law!”.

“You don’t know nothing about Sigurd!” the comment burned you, but your entire body felt as if it had been set on fire, and for somebody who had never been able to express her own rage, it felt damnably magnificent and tiring “… he and Ivar hated themselves and we all knew it would have come to that end, one or the other”.

“That doesn’t justify Ivar’s actions” your voice was now lowered, but it echoed deeply in the tent, suddenly feeling so closed inside of her, meanwhile Hvitserk took a step back.

Something burning on his tongue, but his brain holding it back.

“… it’s a different culture, princess (Y/N)” your full title now sounded liked disdain “… you wouldn’t understand it…”.

“No, I wouldn’t” the words were now a full offense for you, but again that quiet before the tempest filled your tone and her mouth and you spit everything out as a cascade at the end of a smooth river “… I was thrust in this reality not by my choice and I had to adapt, to learn and to survive. So, I might not understand it, but this doesn’t justify it in any way”.

And before Hvitserk could say anything you pushed out of the tent, the whole place becoming much more intolerable than before, the tightness of your chest being slightly eased out by the air outside.

The sun shone there, although it seemed just like the umpteenth attempt of the whole universe to make fun of you.

But you breathed better and deeper.

But did it soothe you, in any way? No.

You felt your name called out, but you simply kept on running.

It was the only way you could achieve some sense of freedom.

It was your last freedom.

And before you even realized it, your feet took you in front of the place you needed to go to finish all of this.

Heahmund’s tent.

The man looked surprised by your presence there, even more because she was quite aware of the fact that you looked like some kind of savage nymph with your hair unbound and your feet bare.

But he welcomed you inside.

‘… I wasn’t expecting you princess to be here’ he commented, meanwhile he gestured outside, as you entered the tent, noticing the minimal objects and furniture in it, but nonetheless it was Saxon to the core.

Unlike and like you.

‘… I heard that there has been quite the celebration yesterday’ it was obvious that to him all the rituals happening were nothing but heathen dances in the full moonlight and he frowned upon them.

And upon the Christian princess that had joined them.

And for a moment you wondered about what you were truly doing with him.

Was it be a good choice?

“I want a divorce” Heahmund definitely didn’t seem to think it was a good choice, although surprise shone brightly on his face after your affirmation “… something that’ll annul my wedding, although I already know it is illegal for Christians”.

“What?” Heahmund was definitely trying to make sense of the same princess who had told him to mind his own business the previous day, and then today appeared in his tent, just a few days later to pretend a divorce.

You were definitely full of surprises.

Exactly like Ivar.

“… did you know that my husband killed his brother?” you didn’t know why you asked that to Heahmund, but the mindless expression he gave you, confirming that he did know about it, made you feel even more betrayed “… and do you think that isn’t something that might make my husband dangerous to me?”.

“I am here to protect you, princess” it was almost an automatic response, the sole he could give with such short pretense.

“… like you protected me when I was accused of having tried poisoning Ivar?” you had definitely hit a sore spot as the bishop lowered his head and launched himself on the sole chair in the room.

You were happy of standing, able to tower over him, as if to ensure your power over him.

Your father would have been proud of you.

And disgust just flooded on your tongue, at that thought.

“… if he killed his brother, think what he’ll do to me, when he’ll discover what you and my father planned to do with our marriage. All the spying and lying” you knew you must have sounded pathetic, and it made you feel almost like you were chewing onto glass.

But you felt betrayed by everyone.

Because what made you speak and what you had just asked was the rage you had ignored for all your life, the one that had come out of being constantly belittled, scared and taunted, to the point that you felt like you couldn’t react.

You couldn’t show anything that you wanted to feel truly.

And you started being sick of this.

“You knew who he was when you married him, princess” Heahmund’s tone tasted of threat and you weren’t able to stop yourself from grimacing at that, although you gripped tighter your fists, Nanna’s teachings about how to attack definitely coming to your mind.

“… but did I have any choice other than marrying him?” the words echoed in the room in a way that hang on heavy around you, like a humid cloud involving you both and Heahmund wasn’t able to turn his head to the other side, as he had always done “… my father would have thrown me out, if I hadn’t accepted it…”.

“He won’t hurt you, my princess” and strangely you were aware of it.

But… yet… your soul was scared, left betrayed by your own thought of having believed that Ivar could be different from your father, when they were two men who wielded power through violence.

You shouldn’t have been surprised but yet scenes of ordinary sweetness between you and Ivar appeared in your mind and they kept on bothering you, because the revelation made you feel like there were two Ivars, something that you had seen before.

There was the one that would cradle you close to his chest, when you didn’t feel well enough, bringing you to his own private heaven so that you could share a moment, in something that nobody had ever bothered to do for you.

And then there was this disruptive creature, some kind of hungry wolf that trashed anything and anybody that came on his way, something that made you wary, not scared, but your self-respect wanted you to run on your own feet.

And only some basilar sense of honor held you there.

And the knowledge that running away would have solely given you more problems.

“… arrange the divorce” it was an order mixed with a threat, something that you learned from Heahmund’s tone itself, the man quirking an eyebrow at you, although his mouth kept itself in a straight line “… or I’ll handle it myself”.

And as you had come you exited the tent, noticing that life had started going on as usual again.

Everybody had somewhere to go and the sounds of an active army camp filled the air and for a moment you desperately wished to disappear in it, closing your eyes and hoping that, as an enchantment, your own will could bring you away from here.

In a place where you could be safe with your sisters.

Kathleen wouldn’t have felt this powerless, she would have fought, she would have stood her ground, meanwhile Abigail would have charmed everybody in giving her what she asked…

… and then there was you, who felt like everything was lost.

Your feet brought you to place where the boats were being repaired, the entire process having come to some kind of halt, since the workers who had been taking care of the boats to come back home, had been moved to make sure Bjorn’s would be ready for his and Halfdan’s departure.

Something bitter was in your mouth at the thought.

At Ivar’s first betrayal and lie.

You shouldn’t have been this surprised after all.

“I knew I’d found you here” the voice was slightly lighter than Ivar and spoke English graciously with no inflection in his tone and you didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Alexander.

You breathed out a breath of relief.

“… if you are here to tell me you were right, please don’t”.

You were already hard enough on yourself, on your own.

“I won’t” Alexander sat next to you, and although you felt the distance between you two, it brought you pack to a past time, when you were each other’s confessor, although there were things you hadn’t been able to tell even to him.

And now they damned your body to this kind of pain and loss.

“… good” it was so low that you were sure that it dispersed itself in the wind “… because I am already feeling like I lost everything and to know that I have lost also your friendship and respect it would… destroy me”.

What was this show of sincerity?

This sudden opening up to everybody.

It felt like weakness…

… and yet the way Alexander’s arm slung loosely over your shoulder felt heavenly and before you knew it the tears you hadn’t shed but needed to, escaped your control and soon you were crying on his chest desperately.

He simply caressed your back till sobs became sighs and eventually silence enveloped you both.

“… you’ll never lose something that is sacred to my heart” he commented once you had calmed down, gently bringing your hands in his, as you raised softly your head to meet his eyes, and he shook lightly his head “… I shouldn’t have said those things… I spoke of love, but the truth was that I had no right to it…”.

“… I am sorry my feelings can’t be…” but he shushed you softly.

“You can’t oblige your feelings to feel something that you don’t believe in” he spoke softly, measuring his words because they held an equal side of wisdom and pain “… that’s why you are feeling like everything is lost… because your head tells you to feel one thing and your heart… your heart is treacherous”.

“He is a murderer…” your voice was low and yet it could have shaken mountains.

It shook your soul to the core.

“… he… he isn’t the man that I was supposed to love” it felt like a justification.

A flimsy one.

“Love isn’t about deserving or earning” Alexander spoke slowly “… I know it on my own skin, but this doesn’t make it any less easy or more… simple”.

“… I can’t stay here” your legs lightly moved underneath you as if to reinforce the concept “… I shouldn’t have ever come, I should have done what Kathleen wanted me to do, run”.

“And when have you ever followed Kathleen’s advises?” now Alexander’s mouth was quirking up in a smile, a sarcastic one matched on your face, properly “… you are (Y/N), not Kathleen, don’t ever forget”.

“But I do wish I was her!” now your voice was loud enough to make a few of the workers turn around, but Alexander’s eyes shot to them to tell them to return to work, something they did without any questions “… I can’t do this… I can’t… anymore”.

Your hands gripped the earth beneath you, probably dirtying your nails but you needed to anchor yourself down as your lungs slowly started filling themselves slowly, meanwhile you pushed your hands underneath you, stretching your body.

“Then change” it felt natural the way he said it, like it was the only natural solution, but how could you even think about that, when you were stuck as nothing more than a glorified prisoner.

“… how?”.

“We’ll grab a few horses and we’ll make a fun for it” Alexander, always the knight in the shining armor, the one who played Arthur in your games because he was ‘the Just’, certainly wouldn’t have thought about anything more than that.

To him, it would have been a knightly ballad.

And to you a true nightmare.

That was why this would never work out between you two.

He was a dreamer and you had had too much reality in your own blood to believe in those fairytales.

As you had learned in the hard way, they always disappointed you.

“… this isn’t easy, Alexander” your tone was patient and yet tight, as if you couldn’t understand Alexander’s thoughts and point of view “… Heahmund won’t even grant me a divorce”.

“… then the only way is to run”.

This, indeed, sounded like Kathleen.

But (Y/N) was already asking herself where they’d go and hide, what they’d need for it.

And how it would influence the ones she left behind.

Ivar would have probably marched to your father to ask him to find you again to bring you back and your father would have absolutely tried his best to find you, using your sisters against you.

And yet, you couldn’t stay here.

Your hands let go of the earth as if it was poisonous.

But maybe you were what was truly poisonous.

“… I can’t”.

Because Alexander could look forward, like Kathleen.

But you couldn’t.

You hadn’t been able to, since your father had taken away the possibility of a future without him from you.

His actions had never let you think with your own head, with your wishes and your own taste and now you were broken completely.

And stuck in the middle.

Waiting for something.

“Then I’ll stay with you a bit longer…” Alexander’s voice was soothing and comforting and again you leaned your head against his shoulder “… my princess”.

---

When you arrived back in your tent, rigorously escorted by Alexander in a silence that was terrible and your sole solution, you found all your ‘handmaidens’ reunited around your bed, their hands threaded together and their lips muttering a prayer that was too silent to reach your ears.

But you knew that they were praying for your protection, because as soon as you bumped into something with your knee, making enough noise to make your presence known to each of them, their eyes almost madly raised to you.

“Princess!” called out Lia, meanwhile Angelika’s slight smirk became as cold as the rocks outside and Caryn’s sweet smile faltered lightly again seeing your tired and disappointed smile “… we were worried! You didn’t… come for us, this morning”.

You wondered whether they knew.

None of them had followed you outside after you had received the news.

They had been all too busy dancing their hearts out and you couldn’t blame them.

You had always thought and felt like they were your friends and because of that they were happy of being so far away from their home, in a place where they had no real family and friend.

You had always been too naïve.

You wondered how far the word of your fight with Ivar had spread.

Part of you worried for what this might bring onto the scheme that you and Ivar had created.

You knew that Ubbe had told you this secret, because he hoped to bring whatever deal you and Ivar had done down, and he had succeeded in this brilliantly, because had the fight become of public domain, it would have brought down whatever appearance of romance you and Ivar had set up for each other.

Alongside your image of beloved leaders.

But part of you, the one that you had denied for so long, wanted to just push everything out in the open, to be able to mourn your pain publicly and have your own revenge on Ivar’s omitted pieces.

It felt so vile and yet it just felt right.

“… I just had to clear my mind” worry continued on lacing your handmaidens’ eyes, but the part of you that felt the need to doubt everything, now wasn’t able to look at them back.

You weren’t able to look at them without wondering whether it was genuine.

What was true, after all, in this settlement of liars and lies?

Your father would have called you melodramatic and even naïve, because to think that the truth was what you saw was the greatest trick that the Devil had played on humanity.

And who didn’t understand this would have been completely destroyed by others

“Is… your mind… clear, now?” it was obvious that Angelika’s words were a polished version of what she truly wanted to say.

And do, with her way her fists tightened around the pretty fabric of her lovely bluish dress.

She wouldn’t have been as naïve as you, in your place.

“… a bit” words were difficult and you excused Alexander quickly with a few more, not truly wanting him to see what you felt, unable to conceal your ache for what he had proposed, alongside the knowledge that you wouldn’t have ever been able to realize his plan “… I’d like to lay down, alone”.

It was lunch time, but you felt like you would have pushed out anything that you’d have eaten, so you thought that the only way you could tolerate the passing of the day was alone.

With your books.

“… it wouldn’t be wise to leave you…” tried to start Solveig, her voice and her Nordic accent, a small memory of your husband’s one “… we should…”.

“Leave me, alone”.

You must have sounded like a spoiled brat, but you knew that your eyes held the wound of your pride and your imagination.

And soon you heard a fluttering of feet and curt bows, meanwhile dresses grated almost noiseless against the floor, wiping it clean in some kind of ritual that left you to push yourself on the ground, on your knees.

And silently cry.

You dragged your tired body as some kind of wounded beast till the trunk with all your books and searched through it for some old books about laws, most importantly wedding laws, even getting the Bible out.

It was a small one that Father Peter had gifted you when you weren’t anything more than a small crumb, in hopes it’d guide you to sanctity.

How far were you from it…

But the truth was that you could have wielded the book with all the world’s knowledge and yet you wouldn’t have found a solution to your own dilemma, because your father wouldn’t have ever granted you a divorce or annulled the marriage.

You were his little bishop, on his own personal chessboard, willing to the ultimate sacrifice and honored for the protection of the king, something that made you unable to follow a proper trajectory on her own.

Just another piece on the board.

If you asked for a divorce your father would have immediately denied it, because you were a precious spy.

And had you tried to escape, he would have turned himself against your sisters, till he brought you right back where he had always had you.

There was no way to escape his grip.

In the end, you hadn’t had many choices when the marriage had been set up.

And now that it was celebrated and you were the wife of a monster, you had even less.

There was a third way.

That was something stories had always told you.

And as your hands were in search for many more books, almost frantic in their movements, they brushed against the leather sheath of the dagger your father had given you to achieve the most utter level of betrayal towards Ivar.

But could you kill somebody?

The dagger weighted heavily on your hands, but you knew just how to grip it to be sure to stabilize it in your grip, thank to Nanna’s lessons, since you had trained with wooden knives, in your latest lessons.

‘Held it with one hand’ and you followed the instructions in your mind, grabbing the handle with strength, as your fingers pushed up their to wrap against the metal, to grip it steadily ‘… this way you’ll have much more strength from your upper arms’.

And then you’d pierce Ivar’s skin.

And not the bottom of the trunk.

Would it have made so much difference?

Would you have found resistance?

Would you have survived the attack, had you been able to catch Ivar by surprise, finishing the fatal mission her father had given you?

But right when the dagger was through piercing itself in the trunk your hand trembled and soon the trembling pushed itself up to your whole body in a way that made goosebumps appear on your skin, a slight shade of red appearing on you cheeks.

And you felt it because they burned.

Like your arms.

As if you had received some kind of premonition, the knife slipped from your grip, as you felt somebody entering the tent.

And you had gotten yourself used to those dragged out steps.

You had cherished them just a few days ago.

And you knew that Ivar had almost caught you in a dangerous experimentation.

But nothing in you wanted to be careful.

You had been focusing all your energy on hiding the double-play you had brought in your dowry and now you were so tired of everything.

So tired of Ivar’s and your father’s games.

You should have seen how similar they were from the start.

How deceitful and monstrous they both were.

Drenched in violence and unable to love others.

And yet, as Ivar’s eyes met yours, tired and disappointed, all the flashes of your happy moments appeared in front of your eyes, again, and for a moment you felt like throwing your arms around him.

And then the image of blood, tears and smoke filled your eyes.

You had been already too foolish.

And your eyes became of ice.

“… would you like to talk?” Ivar’s voice was as dry as your mouth, but yet it felt like a dam holding back something more and you trained your eyes to the ground, to avoid seeing what he hid in his eyes.

Because they’d have made you think you were talking with a human.

“I sent away my handmaidens away for a reason” you hadn’t ever been this cold and this angry and it felt like every hit you sent his way was one to yourself and you couldn’t help but clutch your fists tight by your side, adjusting your dress just to look busy “… and Hvitserk already tried to say something”.

“He ran out of the tent with his tail between his legs” his attempt at humor was welcomed by a dry glare and this time in your eyes there wasn’t anything to be held back.

They were pure flames.

“… he told me that I don’t understand your ways” suddenly your own dam was broken and before you knew it, you were pushing out all the shit that you had swallowed all these years “… but the truth is that I was pushed in this, without anybody asking me what I wanted and what I preferred”.

“I had to learn on my own how to behave, how to act, how to fucking survive” Ivar backed off lightly, and your body raised in a swift move “… I had to learn how to fight back, how to defend myself from all the ones around me and not to trust anybody…”.

“You are a princess, you should have known these things” now Ivar’s tone was as dark as yours, and as you turned to look at him in the eyes you spotted that he hadn’t been able to conceal that you had hurt him.

And it made you feel good.

It made you take that step forward that separated you.

“… you are right” your voice was the calm before the storm, mirroring completely the static energy that followed lighting, meanwhile your voice became the booming power of a thunder “… I am a fucking believer of stories and you thought that you could control me easily because of that”.

Ivar seemed taken aback by your affirmation, and raised his arms as if to grab your attention but now you were utterly done and if he wanted to make you suffer, you’d drag him with you

“… for all my life I had somebody that controlled me, so it should have been easy for you to do the same for me, it was nice when you could make me act the role of the nice wife, the one that’d have stood by your side, no matter what…” a light of protest appeared in Ivar’s eyes and you chastised it with a look of your own “… don’t fucking deny it, my prince”.

You could have screamed and it would have done less damage than it did now, as Ivar lost suddenly his balance on his own braces and although everything in your body ached to desperately cradle him closer to you, help him up…

… your soul was frozen.

“… but I am done playing these games” and you let Ivar catch a glimpse in your tiredness “… and from now on, I wish you not to be my husband anymore in our tent, I’ll keep up the dutiful wife act outside of here, but I just can’t… I won’t be your bride in anything but my body”.

Ivar reached out for your dress, as you exited the tent, but you were faster.

Running away was your sole weapon.

And it struck deeper than a dagger.

---

Nanna noticed your uneasiness to even look towards a weapon immediately, as you came to here to train, and sent you through a run of the woods, to stretch your muscles before the real training, some kind of hand to hand combat that you had practiced till you knew the moves by heart.

For which you were grateful since your mind was completely gone.

And you couldn’t seriously do much more than crouch down and avoid hit after hit, meanwhile your attacks were lethal, enough that this time you almost hit Lia, the poor girl having to shield herself through a big push onto your chest, which sent you tumbling down.

And you welcomed the fall.

The loss of control was dizzying and maddening and for somebody who was a step close to losing it completely it was refreshing like rain on your face in a hot summer day.

And Nanna caught on all of this immediately.

She approached you as you came back to Bukefalos.

‘… whatever you have in mind, you should know that the brothers never liked each other” you rolled your eyes at her, a bold move that accompanied your own insanity since you wouldn’t have ever dared doing anything like that.

But the truth was that if you had gone through so much shit because of others, it was because you, firstly, had let yourself go through it, eventually creating a patterns of behaviors that you’d assume to avoid angering others.

You thought they’d spare you from pain.

But they had never worked truly.

And now you raged with intensity.

“… Hvitserk already tried this discourse with me” you counterattacked before Nanna could finish whatever she was saying, but unlike with Hvitserk, she held her own ground and waited for your outburst to end “… it doesn’t justify him”.

“It doesn’t, it never will” there was something deeper in Nanna’s eyes “… I am the first to say such a thing, because you see… I was Sigurd’s trainer, I taught him how to fight, although he wasn’t in the slightest talented for it, he was a great musician…”.

The confession seemed to cost Nanna years as her face became suddenly older and you couldn’t help but stop for a moment and think about what she had truly gone through.

You didn’t know Nanna, exactly as you didn’t know perfectly your handmaidens, so to be the witness of such a concealed pain it made your soul suddenly shift onto the most compassionate mood, although rage still burned and asked explanations.

“… I hate him, you know” Nanna’s voice was a soft whisper, her face holding a tight smirk, a sad one that spoke of many nights wasted to overthinking and distrusting anybody “… that’s why I wasn’t kind to you, when you first came, I thought that you were nothing but a meek little mannequin here for his schemes”.

“I am that” your voice tasted like a harsh bite, and Nanna sent you a compassionate look, but no pity in it, as if she knew deep down that that rage simply concealed much more.

“… you were” corrected her Nanna, coming closer to you, and lightly brushed away strand of hair drenched with sweat you hadn’t noticed you had shed “… but the truth is that you weren’t ever meek and stupid, someone easy to manipulate? Maybe at the start, but not anymore. That’s just a front and this strength that you are destroying through your rage… it’s the true you”.

Nobody had ever said something like that to you

You had loved Kathleen to Death and back, and yet, she had always treated her as if you were the meek little girl that your father had wanted you to be, and she couldn’t see past it, in the end becoming one of the many golden cages that wrapped you too tight.

You had always felt helpless.

Even when your strength had been reinforced.

But now somebody had finally acknowledged it…

… it felt like a freedom.

Like a beacon of hope.

That your rage shoved back inside.

“… he is a monster”.

“No” Nanna voice echoed through the empty spot of the forest she had brought you so that you could be more private “… he isn’t a monster, because those exist only in fairytales, little princess, he is a boy who has done and will for ever do monstrous things”.

“… is there any difference?”.

Your voice was slightly broken and even more importantly it seemed almost frail in the way it trembled in your own mouth, as if you wanted to eat it right back, because it was the breaking point.

Your breaking point.

Could you love somebody that would have tainted you?

Somebody who wouldn’t have hesitated to bring you down for his own plans?

No matter the fact that he had promised that he wouldn’t have ever done such a thing.

Could you turn a blind eye to all the monstrous things he did?

What would have made you?

A coward or a hypocrite?

“… there is” Nanna’s voice was instead low as if it was tasting the words, making sure they were the right ones “… being a monster isn’t a choice, doing monstrous thing is, and it only depends on us”.

“This doesn’t make everything better in any way”.

“It isn’t meant to” Nanna’s eyes settled on you unrelenting and piercing “… it is meant to bring knowledge to you. Even you would do something monstrous if you were given the proper stimulus believe me”.

The words seemed so foreign to you.

And yet hadn’t you cheated, lied and hidden?

Could you seriously blame Ivar for his lies?

Still you held your position strongly.

“… this isn’t some kind of silly courtly game, princess” Nanna’s hand shot out to your wrist and before she could grab, your reflexes acted up and you pushed it back “… and look at you, you already know the first step of it: don’t trust anybody”.

“… why don’t you cut Ivar’s throat off in his sleep?” it was treason what you had suggested, your father would have had the people saying it dead, but Nanna simply sent you a soft laugh.

“Because then I wouldn’t be different from him” it felt such an obvious choice and yet it clashed so deeply with the warrior image she had of Nanna “… the difference between me and Ivar it is that I can become a monster to defend what I believe in and he becomes a monster because he has been taught to hate whatever doesn’t agree with him”.

A logic came in front of your eyes.

“… he was born to be king, shaped by an overprotective mother who loved him and a father that hated what he truly was and taught him that love and happiness wouldn’t have been what was in his Destiny” the image of Ivar became much more complex at all these revelations “… this isn’t to justify him, but the first step to stop being afraid of people who do monstrous things is to understand them”.

Nanna’s hand now gently moved onto your shoulder, the grip strangely comforting, since it didn’t coddle you in any way.

But it stood with her.

“… I know you aren’t scared” she commented, as she slowly distanced herself from you “… and know that you are confused, so I hope that knowledge will help you in your choice”.

“As if I had one” you were simply able to mutter.

“… life is a path and you always come at crossroad, little princess”.

---

When you had come back to tent you had soon found out that you were alone, and you couldn’t exactly blame Ivar for not wanting to share the room with you.

But at the same time, you were almost grateful he had left your space.

Nanna’s talk had certainly cleared you a few things, if not about yourself, about Ivar.

But everything inside of you raged and ached for an answer that could calm your fear, ease your worries and finally find a solution to the enigma inside your heart: were you allowed to feel what you had started feeling for Ivar, or had it been all a mistake?

Your feelings were so confused that your feet just wanted to bring you away from there, if not for yourself, for the simple calm of mind that being far away from anybody would have given you.

You wanted just a bit freedom.

But you had taken your first steps in a priced cage.

So, how could you exit when the cage was smaller, and you knew nothing of it…

Your fist punched the light cupboard you had beside the entrance, where you knew that Ivar kept your nuptial gifts and you hit a bit too hard because the cupboard was slightly shaken and before you knew it, something fell right on the floor in front of you.

Floki’s gift, the small box with the moving sides, was now on the ground and as you rushed to grab it, already worried of having broken it, you noticed that out of pure luck you hadn’t broken it, completely.

But the box was now open lightly at the center and you moved yourself to collect it, finding much more than you had bargained for, because the broken box revealed a small piece of paper, which you grabbed, knowing quite well that you Vikings didn’t have written language, although you had received a book with a few runes and the proper pronunciation for words…

… and in fact, the paper didn’t contain any writing.

But it was a map.

A map, that contained all the villages around the settlement, signaling the ones that were already occupied by Vikings troupes and the ones that weren’t, making you discover that you had a convent nearby, a few days of travels.

But, again, you knew that escaping wouldn’t have been useful to anybody.

Unless… unless you managed to maintain the pact with Ivar.

And unless anything happened to you.

Had you died, accidentally, Ivar wouldn’t have been able to break the oath of protection to your father and your father wouldn’t have harmed your sister to try to get you back to him.

But you didn’t have any intention to cut your life so shortly, not only because you were coward and too attached to the life you had just started living, but you knew that suicide might destroy the oath, almost as much as a direct betrayal to either your father or Ivar.

But suddenly more and more ideas set up in your mind, as you remembered Nanna’s discourse.

A terrible and monstrous idea came to you, as you watched at the map, clutching it tighter in your hands till it appeared lightly crisped and marks of your nails etched in it.

You pushed it in your sleeve, and for the second time in that day you went to visit Alexander.

You noticed that a few guards followed you, although not closely and you were even more surprised to discover that Alexander and a few of his men had been asked to stay for a few days more.

‘To ease the princess’ nostalgy’ had mumbled Alexander, recalling the small meeting he had had that morning with Heahmund after you had left, the man looking as desperate as annoyed, and when your best friend discovered what you had asked of the bishop…

… he laughed loudly.

“… I don’t trust Heahmund, in the slightest” you mumbled, under your breath, but were still thankful for having Alexander with you a bit, even more with the plan your mind had conjured.

You showed Alexander the map you had found.

‘They probably wanted to use it to conquer more lands’ commented the blonde-haired knight, as he examined the countries that were left unconquered ‘… they couldn’t know that Ivar would have married an English princess, sealing peace with king Alfred and your father’.

‘… that gives me more credit than I have really’ you mumbled, but more because Ivar being brought in this conversation would have risked ruining all your coherent thoughts and confidence.

“This morning you said we should run away” your voice was low, although the guards outside hadn’t seemed to understand any English, but you tried your best to avoid being discovered “… but for me it isn’t just possible, I do know that if I just run away, my father would bring me back, using my sisters against me”.

“… so, you haven’t changed idea?” Alexander’s tone was slightly pensive and heavy, enough that you were very aware that he stood by your side no matter what.

And you needed that loyalty for your plan.

Something that still made you a bit icky to use, since you were aware that you were partly using Alexander’s fascination for you to get him to collaborate with you.

And it was horrible.

It felt awful.

And it was something that you could feel both Ivar and your father would have done.

Nanna had talked with you about creatures doing monstrous things, but not about the influence they’d have on the people around them,

“… my father wouldn’t search for me if I was dead”.

In Alexander’s eyes a flash of hurt and surprise appeared and immediately he reached out to you, trying to grab your wrist, but you snatched it quickly, as he instead went to gently caress one of your cheeks, as you kept your eyes down.

Unable to see the commotion and devotion in his eyes.

It reminded you of Ivar’s quiet misery of this morning.

Why had you this effect on men?

They were all moved by you and yet they wouldn’t listen on anything you had to say.

“… I won’t help you on your path to self-destruction, (Y/N)” Alexander told you, looking at you attentively “… I can’t… truly… I’ll swear my sword to your protection, but not to your destruction”.

“I wouldn’t need to die, to be thought dead” you added, trying to ease the worry in Alexander’s eyes “… I… if I was thought to be dead through some accident, leaving behind some of my things, I wouldn’t… I would be able to start again a new life, in a convent, where nobody has heard of me”.

The plan was crazy and Alexander did look at you as if you had definitely suggested something blasphemous, and honestly…

… had you had any other chance, you wouldn’t have suggested it.

But Heahmund or your father wouldn’t have ever granted you a chance of divorce.

And running out would have resulted in simply being brought back by force, either using it on you or your sisters.

And you couldn’t stay here.

Not when you had people pushing you through situation you didn’t belong in.

No matter how much you had thought of loving Ivar, your father expected you to do something against him and had Ivar discovered anything about what you had done and what you intended to do, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you.

And you had enough of being controlled and used for others’ plans.

You had now your own.

Your life at a convent wouldn’t have been perfect.

But you wouldn’t have risked your life, daily basically.

“This isn’t… this is…” Alexander’s eyes searched yours, hoping to find some gleam of sanity but you simply held yourself strong in your conviction, because had you lost also that…

… you would have completely vanished.

“… crazy”.

“That’s my only chance” you insisted loudly “… I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t. I know that you want the best for me, but I can’t simply hide behind you anymore”.

Something in his eyes became sad and you had to admit what stood on your tongue, ready to be swallowed, because it was the truth.

And you knew that truth never paid off.

“… I know that you are in love with me” you admitted “… and I know that you want to protect me because of that, but I … Alexander I grew out of the fairytale, I don’t think it ever was. I don’t want you to do this because you expect something in return or because it is what virtuous knights do. I want you to do this because… you think it is the right thing”.

Alexander’s hand fell from your face and for a moment you were sure that you had done the wrong thing, you had chosen the wrong road and now you could only hope that Alexander would at least respect the secret of your words.

But for the second time in this day, you found a bit of luck, in this unlucky situation.

“I am not going to help you, as a lover” it hit you deeply, but Alexander’s eyes stared right back in yours, full of support “… I am going to help you, because I should have done all of this before”.

You looked at him curious about what he’d say next, but you couldn’t have ever foreseen what he’d say next.

“… I should have helped you and your sisters with your father”.

And for somebody who had never admitted what your father had made you go through, although solely emotionally, the knowledge that somebody had been witness to it took you like a sword straight up in your chest.

A bleak kind of pain hit you and you almost felt ashamed that he had found out about this.

“… how?” the words got all confused in your mouth “… how did you know?”.

“I didn’t… I just connected the dots” you didn’t know whether you wanted to hide all of this further in your heart, because shame just took you fully, or to finally breath out the truth.

Because finally you had received some respect, and somebody saw all of you.

“… once… when we were children… I accidentally ripped Kathleen’s gown, meanwhile we were fighting, and I found a big… big bruise on it”.

“… I didn’t realize back then that it came from your father, but I saw the way you flinched whenever he was slightly displeased with you, even more when I saw Kathleen flinching of pain if we ever fought, and seeing bruises on here that she justified as old wounds…”.

Alexander’s knowledge made you sick to your stomach.

Had others known about your father’s actions?

Had they known all this time and never done anything?

Although you were the first to admit that your father’s actions would have put the fear of God in everyone, you couldn’t believe that so many had stayed silent, at seeing the constant ruination of you and your beloved sisters.

“… and as a child I believed it, but when we started growing up we became more and more tight knit and I wasn’t able to ignore the way you’d shift away from your father, or the way Abigail would have her eyes trained down on the ground, whenever he was near… or how much Kathleen limped after she had answered her father’s provocations…”.

Painful memories overcame you as you choked on your own words.

“… that’s why I told you we should have run away, when we were still at the castle, before I got recruited in the army, I wanted to keep you safe, but…” a shade of guilt dyed his eyes “… I was just a boy and there wasn’t much I could do, I didn’t have the power and neither the money to convince your father to let you marry me”.

“And then my brother died and the only that kept me going was the fact that I could have finally been enough in your father’s eyes…” and his eyes showed the idealistic beliefs you had always loved about him “… but right when I came back, I found out that your father had sold you off to somebody’s else”.

The way he pronounced the word ‘sold you off’ made you feel so heavy and ashamed.

But it was the truth.

Your father had sold you like a priced cow.

And you wouldn’t have simply ‘mooed’ your annoyance, anymore.

You would have done something with it.

“… so, I’ll help you, my princess” Alexander sealed off his oath, as his hand reached out to you, nothing romantical in the way that he gripped your small hand in his “… for all the times that I couldn’t”.

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice, as you turned to the map

“... but we’ll need a well-thought plan”

“I have one” you commented lowly “… have you ever heard of the novella of the matron of Efeso?”.

---

You and Alexander had been talking about the plans for quite some time, estimating how much time it’d take you both to get ready.

You ran on stolen time, barely a week from when you’d be leaving for Kattegat, and Alexander’s staying had been extended for a few days, a whole week, if the heathens felt generous, something that made you both anxious.

And yet adrenaline filled your brain.

You almost hadn’t wanted to stop yourself from your plotting schemes with Alexander, but you knew that staying in his tent for more than it was proper would have costed you whispers.

Even more when the crisis between you and Ivar was evident.

So, you had tried to hide your schemes, through various visits, moving again to Heahmund, with the excuse to thank him for Alexander’s prolonged staying, appearing the image of the docile sheep, as the bishop complimented your virtues of patience and perseverance.

‘The ones of a true queen’ he had said, a strange gleam in his eyes, but you had chosen to ignore it, sick in the stomach at the sole thought that he had known about your father’s abuse against you and your sister.

And had never done anything.

Alexander’s confession of knowledge had opened your eyes and what you had thought was a closed world of violence and cunningness, had been open to the whole court to see and witness.

And nobody had done something against it.

They had all been cowards.

Like you.

And yet, a new kind of rage followed these new revelations, because you understood that many nobles completely depended upon your father, but yet, so many had even taken part in your father’s plan with no intention to even try to shed a glance your way.

You and your sisters had been left alone, to be adored and wished upon, and yet beaten down till your resistance broke.

But the truth was that it had never broken.

Kathleen was the portrait of that, and Abigail had much more cunningness than her soft preface gave the appearance of.

And as of you, the time in the Viking settlement had revealed to you, skills that you had never thought you owned.

You had always sold yourself short, and now it was time that you took the power away from all the men in your life that had taken it for you, doing not what Kathleen would have done, but what (Y/N) would have done.

Your father had thought that he had raised a stupid daughter, one that would be the perfect shy wife to a prince that wanted her simply to lay in bed, but you were far more than that.

And you wondered whether Ivar had known it from the start.

But these were questions you couldn’t allow yourself to have.

There were questions you’d leave behind as you took the vows and the veil.

‘… you’d have to change your appearance’ had mentioned Alexander meanwhile you talked about what you’d need to do to be accepted in a convent: money would have bought silence, but it wouldn’t have been enough to stop people from talking once it was finished ‘… maybe dye or cut your hair’.

And all these transformations had all seemed to you one more way to leave that life behind.

Your only regret was leaving your sisters.

The thought of never having to see them again, would have been difficult for you, to say the least, but Alexander had assured you that now that he had his brother’s inheritance he’d be able to move in court and he’d be by your sisters’ side.

He had sworn an oath to it, but you already believed him blindly.

You knew that you’d for ever regret the thought of him not being the one you had married and the one your heart loved, but there wasn’t much you could do, except be grateful for the support of such a friend.

After the visit to bishop Heahmund, you had tried your best to appear in public, wandering through the market alongside a few girls, till the night overtook the light of the day and you chose to dine alone in your room.

You hoped Ivar would ignore you like he had done for the whole afternoon (or better, as you had done with him for the whole afternoon).

But apparently, lady Luck had helped you too much this evening.

And your husband met you in your tent for a private dinner.

This was what he said to your handmaidens, as he sent them away, although Angelika had be to dragged away by a rather annoyed Solveig, the older woman, halfway through pushing her by the hair, something that brought a dry giggle to your mouth.

But as you turned to face Ivar, the giggle got stuck in your throat.

You had expected him to be angry, and although you had armed yourself with a good amount of your own anger, ready to spit back and fight…

… he just looked old.

As if tiredness had cursed his handsome image.

His eyes weighted heavily in their sockets and they hanged down, staring at his bracing, still on him and for a moment your hands shot forward almost wanting to do what you had started doing for him, your nimble fingers more able than the ones of any guard.

But you bit back your lips and pushed your hands away.

Many thought that the curse of sin could be transmitted through touch.

And yet, your whole body ached to give him some kind of comfort.

“… I’ll have dinner, in here, hope you don’t mind” your voice was slightly unsure and trembling, and you thought that it hadn’t reached Ivar truly, till he simply gave you a light shoulder nod, a moan of pain exiting his mouth as he moved his body “… are you hurt?”.

“What do you care?” that voice was so cutting that it was aimed to hurt you, without any doubts “… you aren’t my wife, anymore in this tent”.

You bit your lips, because your tantrum against him in that tent hadn’t been fair both to your strategy, but also to him, because as much as you hated the thought of what he had done, the rage you had shot him with was partly towards you.

You just changed the direction of it.

“… I might not be your wife, but…”.

He raised himself so swiftly and all the food that had been laid on the tray on the bed, fell in a cacophony of sounds that brought you to immediately cover your ears with your hands.

“What are you to me princess, truly?!” he was using the same tone you had used with him this morning, cutting and made to hurt your opponent, in a vocal sparring you had just learned.

And he was a champion in it.

“… you think that it is easy for me…” your words sounded frail to you, so it didn’t surprise you that Ivar destroyed them with a bloodied look and another shout.

This time your hands remained paralyzed to your torso.

“This isn’t about what I fucking did to Sigurd!” he shouted back to you “… this what is going to fucking happen in this tent! We had a fucking deal!”.

You were paralyzed and you felt bile coming back in your mouth, and before you knew it you pushed yourself outside of the tent, and emptied all your empty stomach on the ground, although you didn’t vomit anything much more than mead and water.

You stood with your body bent in two, your stomach aching and your mind running around, in a way that made you lightly scrunch your eyebrows in a way to calm your soul.

But nothing eased the confusion in your whole body.

The way it trembled so lowly.

And then rage filled you.

And you pushed yourself back in that tent.

“… you are right!” you didn’t even look at Ivar, as your hands hastily ripped off the slight nightgown you had been wearing, lowering it over your night garments “… we have a deal, then fucking take what I offered you, be the fucking prince you think yourself to be!”.

Your voices sounded so rough and so broken that they didn’t belong to you but to some wounded animal.

And Ivar looked at you surprised, as you made the nightgown pool at your feet, revealing your body barely covered by the rough fabric of your garments, your nipples piercing through the fabric for the coldness of the room.

A fire was blaring in the fireplace, but it wasn’t in any way of some use to you both.

You were looking at each other as two wounded lions, prideful and yet asking the other to quit this pretense and to help each other.

And you pierced your palms with your nails to make that thought vanish.

“… you seriously married me thinking that I wouldn’t someday protest against everything you have taken me away from…” your words echoed in the air and you weren’t able to stop yourself from the step forward you took.

“I always thought that you were smart” his voice was finally the truth.

But they weren’t of any consolation to you.

“You fell in love with a fantasy, Ivar” you spoke, your voice appearing in all the sadness of your condition “… I am not a fantasy, I am a person, and not a pawn, one that will simply stand by your side, without fear or…”.

“I would never hurt you”.

You refused to meet his eyes, because you knew it would have been the truth.

And it would have undone you.

“… those are words, not fact” and you smiled softy and tragically “… not facts”.

“I wouldn’t….” his voice was finally showing his age, a few years older than yours, and yet infinitely younger in a way that made you wonder whether you had been talking with a child

An unloved one.

“… what do I have to do to show you that you wouldn’t ever be hurt?”.

“… nothing, Ivar” your voice was flat, because otherwise it would have begged for more.

“… there must be something!” his voice was now the tantrum of a child, and as you finally raised your eyes again, you found them laced with a rejection he had known all too well.

When you had first met him, you had thought that the sadness you had seen in his eyes was due to the fact that you were both forgotten children, alone in their thoughts and ideas.

And yet, something in his eyes reeked of the same martyrdom you had put yourself through.

Hadn’t Nanna told you that his own father hadn’t ever had any gentle words for him?

But did this seriously make any excuse for him?

You had grown with a father that had abused you emotionally and you hadn’t ever thought about killing one of your sisters.

“Sometimes the only solution we can offer is simply to leave things as they are” your voice didn’t sound convinced, but there wasn’t much comfort you could offer to Ivar, not when you knew yourself what was going on in your head “… I’ll keep up part of my deal outside of here, but I don’t… “.

“… but you’ll never be my lover” now Ivar’s words made a defeated sound in his mouth “… I wonder why I ever thought that you could be that”.

The words hanged in the air heavily, as Ivar lightly turned on the bed away from you, facing the opposite part and although you had been prepared for worse, the way he had chosen all of this… it destroyed you.

But you couldn’t do much more than adjust yourself on the opposite side of him.

You just needed to hold on till Alexander would have the money and the things you needed and then you’d be able to leave all of this behind.

And yet, like some silly child, your hands reached out to the cold middle of your bed.

---

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Maybe In The Next Lifetime

Reincarnated! Ivar The Boneless+Reincarnated! Reader (Modern AU)

(Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I am sorry it took me so long but this is a small reward to @youbloodymadgenius,who bought me a Ko-Fi, a bit of time ago and I just am so so grateful for this small gesture because it shows that you truly care about us, writers.

It truly means the absolute world to me and I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to properly express my gratitude through words, but I do hope that you’ll like this (you gave me the green light for everything that came up to my mind, so since i saw that you all liked the first part, here comes the second).

If you want more, please do let me know through a comment or a reblog (PLEASE DON’T FUCKING REBLOG WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING... IT’S FUCKING STUPID).

Do leave some feedback if you want to: it makes us, writers, write faster and our hearts beat stronger.

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Visions have accompanied your staying in Iceland, tainting your experience and making you meet the literal 'man of your dreams', but is this a crazed fever dream or is this the truth?

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Reincarnation Cycle, Menton of Violence and Blood, Inaccurate Portrayal of Iceland.

You changed your outfit for the umpteenth time, wondering if there was anything that would ever fit the theme of Midsomar, allowing you to show off your body, in a way that was flattering and proper.

Your friend, Hedda, had already chosen an outfit and was waiting outside of your shared bedroom at the small apartment you had rented for your staying in Iceland, singing out loud some Swedish song and refusing to give you any help with dressing up.

‘You need to find your inner “Midsomar” ‘ she had muttered after you had gotten out of your wardrobe in a bland floral dress ‘… but also you gotta impress that idiotic guy, you met, so… get out your best Maja’.

‘I don’t think that being a crazy witch in a cult will win me many points with any boy’ you had shot back, eventually completely ignoring her suggestions, trying on at first a few other dresses, and eventually settling up on an oversized white shirt in a pair of your best shorts.

The flower crown you had bought in a Chinese shop, already awaiting you in bed, and as you pushed it onto your head, the vision reappeared.

You had been having visions since the start of your staying in Iceland.

At first you had though they were simply strange dreams, created by your first holiday without your parents and far away from home.

They were different visions of different beautiful girls in clothes from different historical ages, but they all had one thing in common.

Your face.

And then when you had at first noticed Ivar, his own face had haunted your dreams.

As a king, as a slave, as a commander, in a haunt that reversed the roles.

Sometimes you’d be the prey and sometimes he’d be the hunter, and sometimes the opposite would happen.

In the mirror various figures shifted: a meek girl with a flower crown like yours, a well-dressed woman, her face hidden by a thick veil and the heavy crown on her head, again appearing in a more frail way on a woman with a spoiled smirk and expecting eyes.

But you knew that deep down they were all you.

And you were desperately trying to understand what this all truly meant.

You had eventually settled on browsing through some rather confusing pages about the interpretation of dreams, settling yourself up in the ‘reincarnation aisle’ discovering that many in forums thought that in dreams, they could see their past lives.

Or so they believed.

But in most cases, it was boring details that could be easily overlooked and most of the time they were interpreted by clairvoyants that wanted nothing more than to make their daily earn.

And you couldn’t blame them.

But your situation wasn’t a hoax.

Because there was so much confusion in your heart and mind.

And you knew it was a downright wrong thing to follow Ivar around, just because he was the literal ‘man of your dreams’.

And you knew that you would have probably ended up sounding as a crazed hysterical woman, had you confessed him that you had been dreaming about him for your entire staying in Iceland, seeing him in various outfits.

But one thing never changed also for him.

He had loved you and he had lost you.

Never the other way around.

Which you found lightly discriminatory and sexist…

… but Fate didn’t welcome any complaints, did He?

You wished you could talk about it with someone, but not only you didn’t know that well the few friends you had done around the hotel and in the city.

But also… who would have believed you?

And who wouldn’t have wanted to intern you in the nearest psych-ward, after hearing about your crazy dreams?

But this secret was burning you on the inside, completely ruining your holiday there, because you weren’t able, not only to sleep properly, but the knowledge of some previous past life was shaking your beliefs to the core.

And not in a good way.

You almost doubted the reality around you.

And more than one time you had found yourself pinching your arms in search of some signs that you hadn’t simply dreamt also this life.

“… are you fucking finished?” muttered loudly Hedda, startling and effectively reminding you that you were indeed in 2019, getting yourself ready for a Midsomar ‘date’ (because Ivar certainly hadn’t meant it that way, when you had basically invited yourself in it).

“Yeah yeah!” you shot back, slightly annoyed at her antics but eventually settling up on adjusting the flower crown on your head, as you grabbed your clutch, stuffing an extra charger for your phone and headphones in it.

And then appeared in the hallway of your room, for Hedda’s inspection, who told you to turn around, meanwhile she examined attentively your outfit, eventually holding up eight fingers, which was enough to make it pass.

‘… cute but have we forgotten the “sexy factor”?’ commented Hedda, as you were already grabbing a jeans jacket in case it ended up being colder.

You had agreed with Ivar on meeting each other for lunch and then move to a little place where a small folklore festival was to be held.

And had you had a bit of energy, you would join your friends for the night to a ‘Midsomar’ themed party, for which you weren’t too eager, but your friends had already seemed offended by the fact that you wouldn’t have passed the day with them, partying and drinking.

But you wanted the true Icelandic experience.

That was why you had moved there.

And honestly partying and drinking could be done everywhere.

Instead what Ivar had told you that he had planned that day was much more typical of the place and not something that you’d have found everywhere.

And having more time to spend with the ‘man of your dreams’ was definitely a bonus.

Hedda, who, although seemed extremely superficial, had assumed an extremely motherly and protective role over you, had wanted to accompany you, although she had used the excuse that:

‘Booze doesn’t affect me that much, anymore’ she had then winked your way ‘… and didn’t you say that Ivar has a cute brother?’.

You had barely seen Ivar’s brother, but you had felt like you had to give something to Hedda for ‘sacrificing’ herself for you.

Meanwhile you were getting out of your small apartment, making sure to lock after yourself, since Hedda always forgot, you received a message from Ivar, letting you know that they had just arrived to his uncle’s barn, sending you his location and reassuring you to take your time, since they had arrived early to help with the preparations.

You had thanked him, meanwhile you were thoroughly panicking because you didn’t want to arrive late, but to dissuade the uncomfortableness of the entire situation, you asked him ‘whether his brother was hot or not’.

Which you realized a minute after locking the door didn’t sound quite alright.

Shit.

You hoped that at least in one of the previous lives you hadn’t been this awkward.

‘.. for a friend’ you added, hoping he didn’t think you wanted to flirt with his brother.

Because you didn’t want to, for sure.

Although Destiny had indeed pushed you closer, you couldn’t deny that you had found yourself comfortable with Ivar in a way that hadn’t happened in so much with the few guys you had tried out a date with.

And it truly made you feel like this was real.

Like that was your reality.

He was clearly much shier than you were used to, but this didn’t mean that he hadn’t a sarcastically cocky side that had brought you to tears with laughter and judgement.

And it made you feel comfortable and at ease.

As if only with him you could be the true you.

And not the long line of previous reincarnations you had been.

‘… my brother does consider himself hot’ he sent you ‘… hot if you like brainless dudes who will do nothing but eat and drink’.

‘That’s Hedda’s perfect type’ you sent back, careful to avoid breaking your neck on the stairs, Hedda thankfully coming to your side to guide you meanwhile you messaged.

“I do hope that he is worth it” commented your friend, trying to sneak a small look at your conversation “… because those shoes certainly aren’t made for texting and walking”.

“His brother is hot” you were simply able to reply in the general confusion.

“Did you ask him?” shot back Hedda, facepalming as she completely stopped you from slamming your face on an unseen step “… you seriously… you better hope that that guy is in for it…”.

“Don’t make me feel worse than I am already feeling!” you protested loudly “… he is hotter than his hot brother, so do pray for me instead”.

“… you’ll need a miracle” she protested, but did make you arrive at the end of the stairs safe and sound, and then took your phone, throwing it in her bigger bag, as you complained loudly “… and no you are driving, so no phone, neither for the hot guy”.

“Always the responsible ones…” you muttered, knowing that it wasn’t the truth in the slightest “… just let me tell him that we’ll reach them in a quarter hour”.

Hedda simply sent you an annoyed look, before relenting as she got in the car you had rented for the occasion.

“… I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those who is constantly texting her boyfriend” she muttered, lowering the car windows and you quickly typed in your message, waiting a few second for a simple ‘ok’ from Ivar.

Were you panicking?

A bit.

But you’d be fine.

Or he’d realize that you were seriously a stalker had you talked with him anymore.

And then Hedda reminded you of her as she sounded the car horn, effectively startling you away from your anxious brain.

And after all, the faster you got the car started, the faster you’d see him again.

You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t a comp6letely creepy thought.

---

You had been able not to lose yourselves on the trip to Ivar’s uncle’s barn, which had been a great way to certainly hype you up.

Hedda’s awful choice in music had done the rest.

But now you honestly didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Please don’t make me spray you with water” commented Hedda between her teeth, as she adjusted her blush and her own flower crown and you nervously curled a strand of hair between your fingers.

“… just give a minute”.

And she did, moving to lightly check some messages on her own phone, meanwhile you eased up in the place where you had parked, which was supposed to be a few minutes away from Ivar’s uncle’s barn.

In the middle of basically nowhere.

Hedda had joked about the fact that you had seriously ended up in ‘Midsomar’ and would be soon sacrificed, much to your already panicking soul, as you tried to search in yourself some willingness to meet again Ivar.

It wasn’t the simple nervousness of finally seeing the guy you had a crush on.

It was a multilayered feeling of fear and anxiety that had gone on for many years, as your lives were threaded together and separated by Fate.

And you didn’t know how to calm yourself.

In the end Hedda did spray a bit of water on your face, bringing you back from your historical thought, as you finally realized that you couldn’t let past history influence your present.

Although you didn’t know how to do that.

“Is everything alright?” asked Hedda as you moved away from the parking lot towards the small house, walking slow so that you could arrive there comfortably “… are you sure that this guy isn’t a psycho?”.

‘I am actually the psycho, with all these dreams of a past that maybe never existed between us’ you wanted to say, but simply shook your head, yawning lightly, because you had been up till late last night for your last turn at the hotel.

And you tried to keep your mind on the hotel’s turns that you’d have to restart tomorrow, to keep your mind in the present you were living.

Which worked well…

… till you arrived to the house and you found Ivar already out, helping up with setting in place what looked like a small gazebo, to protect you from the sun, meanwhile another boy set up a small plastic table under it.

And you wanted to turn and run away.

What had you been thinking when you had basically invited yourself to what looked like a reserved family ceremony?

Did you seriously think it was a good idea?

But before you could make a complete U-turn with your body, you heard your name being called out by a slight Nordic accent and as you turned around, your reality had changed inevitably.

No matter how much you tried to bring back your annoying turns at the hotel.

“… Ivar” the words left your mouth, although it felt like it had just been forced open, no matter how much you didn’t want to say those words.

His eyes smiled gently at you, as he walked to you, his clothes weren’t modern anymore, but they were an hard armor of leather, constricting him in a way that pushed his whole body to appear bigger than he was.

Relief flooded in you, as you faced him again, the knowledge of him having come back to you completely making you emotional, although you stopped yourself to wait for him to come to you again.

Your vision was disrupted by Hedda’s nails digging themselves in your upper arm, and when you batted your eyelashes, the entire set up you had imagined was gone.

Although Ivar was very much in front of you.

And looked like he had asked you something.

“I am sorry, I didn’t…” Gosh… he must have thought you were a weirdo for sure.

“… I just said that I am glad that you are finally here” his words were truly genuine as a softer smile appeared on his face “… and that you found us so easily”.

“I am a wonderful GPS” commented Hedda, noticing that you were having quite the trouble replying and more generally at talking “… I am Hedda, by the way”.

Ivar looked wary of Hedda but didn’t say anything, and his brother seemed quite taken by her appearance and he pushed himself up from the place where he had sat down, presenting himself to her.

And from the gleaming bits in Hedda’s eyes, you knew that he was hot enough.

And you were soon left with Ivar.

Gosh, could you embarrass yourself more.

Probably… yes.

You almost wanted to plead Hedda with your eyes to stay with you, but at the same time you completely understood she wasn’t your babysitter in any way.

“… so that is why you asked me if my brother was hot” simply commented Ivar, and although you blushed profusely at that knowledge, you felt like he had just shattered the wall of awkwardness between you.

“Hedda needs to have her own fun” you muttered “… mostly because she is a bitch whenever she doesn’t get enough attention”.

Ivar laughed loudly, and when you had both calmed down, you moved to ask if you could do something to help him.

And he redirected you around the gazebo to set it up, as he revealed to you that his uncle would be away for the day.

He was extremely blushy the whole time he said it, and you were a properly matching tomato.

‘… he said that he is too old to for these things” he commented softly ‘… he went fishing and will be back by nigh-time’.

‘Still it was very generous of him to offer us his place to stay’ you tried to make your words appear gentle and kind, although you couldn’t deny that you again felt a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

Two guys and two girls with a small private barn all to themselves.

Hedda would have called you a stupid not to think that this was an entire trick to get you to stay closer to Ivar.

But Ivar’s words seemed honest in what he had said.

And yet it didn’t lessen your embarrassment.

And neither your knowledge that this had happened before.

A picture perfect in your mind of a ’70-fashioned yourself, sleeping with your head against Ivar’s, meanwhile a lazy fire crackled beside you, light giggle and breathy moans from the other couple with you, who had been much more courageous than you two.

Because although you had been on the road for quite some time, you hadn’t been able to do much more than simply stand closer.

“… he hasn’t been the same since his wife died” commented Ivar, his voice lowering itself slightly and bringing you back to the reality.

Not the peaceful and nightly one you had seen in your mind.

You should have taken some medicine for these hallucinations.

And got a whole check-up once you were home.

Although you weren’t sure you wanted them to disappear.

The knowledge that you had been able to score a guy like Ivar in past lives certainly stroked your ego.

“I am sorry to hear that” you replied softly, another memory in your mind, an angry Ivar, nothing peaceful in the way he threw things all around the room and screamed, but then after all the air in his lungs had disappeared he had searched you, shielding himself in your chest, meanwhile he let out all the emotions he had been denying to feel.

“… thank you” his words were honest now as they had been there “… but on better topics, the place we are going after should be good, my brother has never played there so that is a sign of true quality”.

You laughed softly at his comment, meanwhile he kept a straight face but eventually cracked up a small smirk.

“Please don’t tell me it is this brother” you muttered, pointing to Hvitserk, who had been trying to show Hedda a magic trick, involving his abs, thing that had made Hedda very much interested.

(In the abs)

(Not the magic trick. That was pathetic).

“… she’ll make him ask to play her a song, record him and play it till she gets bored with it, and I already think her taste in music his problematic”.

Ivar laughed at your sassy comment, as you managed to finally settle up the gazebo, sitting in the grass to stare at your marvelous work.

“… no not this one” he commented, shooting you a conspiratorial look that made you laugh loudly “… another of my many brothers… Sigurd, the one that I can’t stand”.

“I thought you couldn’t stand all of them”.

But the name Sigurd brought something back to you.

Something dreadful that your subconscious tried to keep locked away and again you pinched yourself to avoid deepening up.

You had seen yourself dying in horrendous way each night.

Once you had been shot, another time an overdose had taken you and the most horrendous had been when a sword had pierced your back.

You had woken up with the feeling of it, screaming loudly as you groped your chest sure to find iron and blood in it.

But it had been just a nightmare.

And yet each time you died you had this knowledge that this had happened.

That it had been painful.

And that it hadn’t been fair.

And what was linked to the name ‘Sigurd’ seemed much worse than that.

Ivar felt the shift in you and you were grateful when he suggested he went inside and started to bring a few starters and drinks outside, since you had to admit that you were quite famished.

And so was his brother.

Hounding him almost like a dog, as you laughed softly at the image.

Having seen it thousands of times happening.

And yet it still hanged in your mind as if it was new.

Hedda took this moment to come to you, muttering about how dreamily Ivar’s brother, Hvitserk, was.

‘… and Ivar does seem to be quite taken by you…’ she commented, shooting you a knowing look ‘… and you seemed a bit taken by the gazebo, I’ll admit it’.

You pushed her away with your shoulder, although you couldn’t deny that.

And you were glad in the following moments to be able to simply think about food.

You thanked profusely Ivar when you realized that the meals he had gotten ready were some Icelandic ones that you hadn’t tried yet, mixed with some other typical dishes, and you were honestly impressed.

‘Oh, don’t worry, Hvitserk over here is the one who cooked everything’ he commented, shooting a quick look at his brother, meanwhile Hedda let out a breathy ‘oh seriously?’.

And you and Ivar laughed of those two idiots.

Again, that natural complicity sparkling up between you, as you talked with each other.

It just felt so comfortable and natural that you couldn’t help but confess him your ‘darkest’ and ‘deepest’ secrets, as he did the same of you, both laid out in the sun, after lunch, staring up at the it, barely shielding yourself from it with your hands.

You joked and you laughed.

And it almost felt like you hadn’t lost anything in your previous life.

As if nothing existed except you and him, in that moment.

But your soul was growing restless.

Almost as if it expected something bad to happen.

Because history had a tendency to repeat itself.

And your soul knew it all too well.

So, you were secretly happy when you moved into a crowd for the musical festival, glad to be able to move yourself among many people, the music completely blaring your mind in a calm state that brought you to definitely enjoy the moment.

And so, seemed Hedda.

You had also had special places, because of Ivar’s disability, standing in the front, meanwhile various bands of various musical genres moved onto stage, alternating themselves, between applauses and ‘boo’s, making you definitely feel like this was an unlike ‘Midsomar’.

But soon it got a bit too much for you and Ivar, the man almost reading your mind (which scared you, because your mind wasn’t a nice place in that moment) and you both suggested going for a round of cold drinks.

Hedda and Hvitserk carrying their orders on you, taking great advantage as you muttered softly in protest, Ivar matching your harsh glare, but you both laughed it off, moving to the small bar set up there, the crowd making it again a wonderful occasion to make small talk with Ivar.

But you couldn’t deny that every talk with him wasn’t simply ‘small talk’.

Although you knew that Hvitserk and Hedda were waiting for you to come back, you still decided to set yourself up in the deserted tables next to the small bar, since everyone was dancing in the crowd, but you were able to still enjoy the music.

Even better with nobody sweating against you.

The lady that brought you your drinks smirked softly at you and said something in Icelandic that you couldn’t quite catch but simply smirked at her, meanwhile Ivar blushed bright red.

‘What did she say?’ you asked, twirling your orange juice in its glass, meanwhile Ivar looked like he might choke on his own beer.

‘… she muttered something about… us being a cute couple’.

This time you basically spluttered the orange juice in his face.

Blushing even harder because of that.

‘… oh’ you simply were able to retort.

‘Oh, indeed’ he repeated, with some kind of bitter embarrassment to it.

And suddenly you were feeling deeply uncomfortable.

Unsure of whether you had said the right thing or not.

And the painful knowledge of your past hanging on you.

An awkward silence fell onto you heavily and you didn’t know what to say and you didn’t want to go back, because Hedda wouldn’t be much helpful since she had set her sights on Hvitserk and she’d have his number for sure, by the end of the night…

… if not something else.

In the end, Hvitserk and Hedda came looking up for you, joining you to drink, something that certainly made you feel definitely better, a bit less awkward, as you leaned on Hedda, almost shying away to her side.

And Ivar did the same with Hvitserk.

In the end you managed to eventually talk with Hvitserk, but awkwardness had again created a wall between you, two…

… a wall that had to be shredded, because Hedda had come up with a dangerous idea.

‘Why don’t you and Ivar spend the night together?’ she suggested, and again you were a tomato ‘… I mean… you could stay over there, since Hvitserk and I were thinking of partying a bit more and I know that you don’t like it. And I feel bad in making you stay alone…’

Other than the fact that she had basically invited yourself in her house, you didn’t think that it was a good idea, and told her so, insisting that Ivar’s uncle would be soon back.

‘… then you can stay for a bit and then go back’ it was obvious that both she and Hvitserk were playing matchmakers.

And you and Ivar didn’t feel like it, in the slightest.

You had already Fate pushing you up close.

That was enough.

You insisted with Hedda that you didn’t want to be of any bother to Ivar, and she insisted back that it wasn’t good to leave you coming back alone.

And although Ivar didn’t seem the type to be guilt-tripped into doing anything, he eventually agreed, although he told you that he’d have to see with his uncle if you could stay over for the night.

‘… oh no no, don’t worry!’ you tried to protest, already feeling like a useless baggage ‘… I’ll just go back before it is too late, I mean… it is still pretty sunny’.

But your mutter had gone unnoticed and after another round in the crowd, the concert had stopped, setting up a more commercial DJ sets, as you went back with Hvitserk’s car, the one to which you were gone to the concert, an hour away from the barn.

Back at the barn, the situation with Ivar hadn’t become better and another flashback had developed in your mind.

An annoying ride of carriage, because you knew that somehow Ivar was angry with you and you should have been angry with him, but at the same time you were damnably worried for him.

And you had reached out for him.

Finding the same gesture replied in the future.

And you were glad you had chosen to leave Ivar take the front seat, meanwhile you had simply reached out for Hedda’s hands, who sent you a look, as if to check whether you had inhaled some passive ‘smoke’ from the crowd of the festival.

You wished.

And when you arrived to the place you and Ivar basically were barely able to get out of the car, before Hedda and Hvitserk sprinted off, effectively leaving you stranded.

“Shit” muttered Ivar under his breath and you couldn’t have expressed better your thoughts, as you faced him, and all his previous reincarnations appeared in front of you.

A Viking warrior, a merchant, a lord.

And then you, bloodied and lost.

You shifted your head away from him, focusing it on your dirtied converse shoes.

“… if you want, we can go inside” he proposed eventually his tone settling up on a defeated tone “… nothing too much to see, but we might have beer…”.

“… have to drive” you reminded him.

“… and whatever you might want to drink with no alcohol” he commented, something almost comical in his words “… which is a sad choice, I’ll admit”.

“I am used to it” you shot back with a slight smirk “… does Hedda seem the type to be trusted behind a car wheel?”.

“You do make an excellent point”.

And then you dived inside, the small barn, being quite welcoming and quite comforting, definitely something that made you remember of home, as you noticed the small figurines draping and decorating elegantly the main hall.

Ivar saw that they had caught your eyes.

And not solely because they were beautiful.

But you had seen them in your dreams.

And then you felt like you had a heavy stone on your lungs, and you had to free yourself from it.

“Ivar, I have a thing to tell you”.

---

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---

Everything Taglist:

@maggiescarborough

Ivar Taglist:

@youbloodymadgenius, @alexhandersenx, @lonewolf471, @flowers-in-your-hayr, @a-mess-of-fandoms @xbellaxcarolinax (I also did yours, and it’ll be out soon too!) @peaceisadirtyword

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Lothbrock Imagine #Ivar Lothbrock Reader #Ivar Moodboard #Ivar The Boneless Moodboard #Modern! Ivar #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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The Tinder Date That Changed Everything (Masterlist)

Ivar+Tinder Date! Reader (Modern AU)

(Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr)

SUMMARY: Ivar isn’t usually happy of being set up by his brother on stupid dates, but one might turn out... better than he thought

(Idea from Ask Requested by @youbloodymadgenius)

WARNINGS: Hvitserk Being A Douche, Ivar Having Enough Of His Bullshit (also I Am Sorry If Your Name Is Elaine), Insecurities, Sex (Explicit Smut).

(1) First Date

(2) The Morning After

(3) Almost Saying ‘I Love You’

(4) Meeting The Family

(5) First Times

(6) Moving In Together

The Taboos of Sex (Series, Still Set Up In The Tinder Date AU)

The Perks of The Blush

The Perks of The Toys

The Perks Of Quarantine

The Perks Of Talking And Listening

The Perks Of Being Convincing

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Moodboard #Ivar The Boneless Moodboard #modern! ivar #modern au #Ivar Lothbrock #Ivar Lothbrock Imagine #Ivar Lothbrock Reader #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Ivar The Boneless One Shots

Royally Screwed (Ivar+Princess! Reader) (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: Being a princess isn’t all glamorous life and parties, sometimes it is just spending your Friday night with a good movie... and maybe something more since the store clerk at the store is just too cute!

WARNINGS: Corny Stuff, Light Mentions to the ‘90s/00s, Not Correct Princess Etiquette and Ivar Just Being a Sassy Asshole).

‘Royal Savage’ (Ivar+Princess! Reader) (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: Galas can be insidious shits for sure.

WARNINGS: Incorrect Royal Etiquette, Ableist Insults, People Being Stuck Up, Slight Dirty Talk (do not read it at work…).

Bow To No One (Illyrian! Ivar+Half Fae/Half Illyrian! Reader) (ACOTAR AU)

SUMMARY: Tasked with the impossibility goal of directing the tiles of a war, you aren’t exactly taken in account, till an unlikely alley, comes and changes everything for you, giving you the option of reaching for the future you have been promised.

WARNINGS: Mention of Blood, Abuse, Slight Nudity and Sex, Misgyny, Mention of Mutilations and Battle, Torture.

Of Researches And Grudges (Scientific Researcher! Ivar+Humanistic Researcher! Reader) (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: When you are partnered for a project with Ivar Lothbrock, you couldn’t be more happy.

But meeting him in real life will show you a side of him, that is very and truly untollerable.

WARNINGS: Prejudices in The Research System, Ivar Being An Angry Asshole, Gossiping, Mention of Death.

Sure I Would Kiss you (Fem! Ivar+Fem! Reader) (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: You like your roommate, the gorgeous but shy Ivar. The only problem?

You are both girls.

WARNINGS: Girls Like Girls, Light Homophobia, Bisexual! Reader, Loss of Virginity, Talk of Blood and Loss of Virginity, Consumption of Alcohol and Slight Bullying.

Just Hold Me (Ivar+Sad! Reader) (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: After an extremely hard period you are left with nothing more to do than hug your lover closer to yourself.

WARNINGS: Mention of Sadness and Hard Period, Light Screaming, Akward! Ivar That Can’t Deal With Emotions

KINKTOBER (22: Lap-Dance/Striptease) (Supernatural AU)

SUMMARY: You can’t help but feel like you might give Ivar a reward for being such a good boy…

WARNINGS: Striptease, Lap-Dance, Thigh Riding, Rubbing Over Clothes, Ivar and Reader Being Dorks.

Maybe In The Next Lifetime (Reincarnated! Ivar+Reincarnated! Reader) (Reincarnation AU) (Part Two)

SUMMARY: It isn't a coincidence anymore, when Ivar keeps on seeing your face everywhere and nowhere.

Telling you the story of something that has passed and is going to rehappen int he past.

Maybe Fate might have given him another chance.

And does this mean that he'll be able to catch it, before it is too late?

WARNINGS: Reincarnation Cycle, Menton of Violence and Blood, Inaccurate Portrayal of Iceland. ù

Hey There Delilah (Ivar+Deaf! Reader) (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: Faced with a concert of his brother, Ivar is soon forced to face much more than he thought to find.

WARNINGS: Talk of Disability, Use of The Word ‘Cripple’, My Scarse Knowledge About Classical Music, Insecurities, Brotherly Feuds.

#Masterlist #Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar The Boneless Reader #Ivar The Boneless x Reader #Angst #Fluff #Smut #Ivar Lothbrock #Ivar Lothbrock Reader #Ivar Lothbrock Imagine #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Loving You Is A Losing Game

Ivar+Kidnapped Wife! Reader (Vikings! Era)

Chapter 2; Electra

“You can have your rich table and life flowing over the cup. I need one food: I must not violate Elektra.”

“Electra” by Sofocles

(Previous Chapter) (Masterlist)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I don’t know if anybody remembers this series, but I thought about bringing it back to you, since a few of you seemed interested in this and I am honestly VERY very excited about this series!

Sadly... it is slightly... too angsty for me, even more during this quarantine, so I wasn’t able to write it till I was in a mood that was sane enough to write it out, so sorry for the waiting!

As always: if you want to slip any feedback, know that it’ll make my heart beat faster and I’ll absolutely write faster!

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SUMMARY: Being kidnapped wasn't the hard part.

Surviving in a kingdom where nobody is your ally might be more problematic.

Even more when a new life is growing in your stomach.

WORDS: 7,3 K

WARNINGS; Unstable Relationship (I think that honestly Reader and Ivar’s relationship is borderline abusive, even more if set up in the modern era, there is no physical violence, but there might be some psychological one so please be careful sweeties), Pregnancy, Talk of Abortion, Mention of Death, Betrayal, Kidnapping Historically Inaccurate, and Not following the series path.

On the days on the boats you’d try to keep your mind active, talking with Astrid, but the night… you were lost to feverish dreams.

Of your labor, accompanied by the death of your husband and child, to the point that you had come to dread night.

Even thought, unless one of your jailers took pity of you and would leave a candle burning out slowly, it’d be forever night in the dark of the heart of the boat you were on.

You had tried to goad your jailers into knowing where you’d be going, but they had been as silent as rocks.

They looked at you with pity and a vicious lust, that made you glad that Gustaf had stopped any man from ‘roughing you up’.

‘… she is the wife of a prince!’ he had commented, sending you a joking look, because drenched in dirty clothes and vomit, you didn’t look very much like royalty ‘… and we’ll treat her as such’.

Had Ivar ever gotten his hands on their wives or children, he wouldn’t have treated them like that, for sure.

You wondered whether he knew about your kidnapping.

Lagertha and your family certainly wouldn’t have left him in the shadow of ignorance.

But did he still care about you?

Maybe he’d have cared about the child in your belly…

A sudden impulse to retch brought you back from your treacherous thoughts, as Astrid called out your name, to check on you.

Although the jailers had simply thought your ‘illness’ to be seasickness, Astrid had caught on pretty quickly what it truly was, as once you were left alone, she had whispered:

‘Are you with child?’ she had asked, looking in your eyes, as you raised your head to lightly nod, and she had thrown her head to the sky of wood ‘… is it his?’.

‘I might be the wife of a traitor, but I certainly am not a cheater’ you had replied pointedly, as Astrid asked for forgiveness, raising her hands as you had lightly pushed your tied arms to hug your knees ‘… I loved him’.

‘… he’ll come for you’ she had spoken as she matched your pose, making you raise your head ‘… he has killed for much less, believe me, he’ll find you’.

You didn’t understand if she was doing this to calm you down or simply because she truly believed your husband was a beast.

“I don’t think he cares anymore” you muttered, as you cradled yourself tighter in your arms.

“I don’t think that he’d risk it for a simple lovers’ spat” she commented, and you couldn’t help but bit your lips, harshly, because although Astrid’s words were gentle and laced with sureness, your thoughts weren’t.

“… it wasn’t a simple lovers’ spat” it had been more like two words clashing through each other.

All the differences that you had had, spit against the other.

“… it just… it used to be quite… easier” you explained, finally uttering your thoughts “… when we were younger, before we were married”.

The ring on your finger was heavy to remind you that.

“You married quite young” commented Astrid, as you nodded “… it isn’t easy, even more when you are blessed with so much power and a stubborn husband”.

You laughed darkly at her comment, as she tried to turn to you with her piercing blue eyes staring at you.

“I just… sometimes I wished we had just kept it on like it was” you explained, confessing something you had never told anyone “… it just felt like we did it more to prove something to others than for ourselves”.

Your entire life had been this way.

Your romance with Ivar had started this way and had continued like that.

Even the child in your womb was a show of that.

To prove to those who didn’t believe it that Ivar was a man, exactly like them.

“Will you keep the baby”.

You had been waiting for that question for quite some time, because it had also tormented your thoughts, but to be uttered out like that it took the breath from your lungs as you choked on your words.

Eventually answering:

“… I don’t know” you confessed.

“Do you want a child?” she questioned you again, as those piercing eyes reminded you of Ivar.

“This might not be the best period to have a child” you tried to push away the question, but Astrid’s eyes focused on you tightly.

“Have you ever wanted children?” she asked “… if we weren’t stuck in a damned ship brought to our demise, would you keep it? The one in your belly”.

Nobody had ever truly asked you that.

You realized that not even Ivar had ever asked you that.

He had simply told you that to have peace, you’d have to give him a child.

He had ordered you to have a child.

And now you had one, but the only positive sensation you had about it had been Ylva’s gentleness in talking with you about it.

“… I…” you choked on your words, unsure of what to say.

Because it hadn’t ever been a question for you.

It had been a fact.

And now that it had happened…

… you weren’t sure of the answer.

“… I don’t know” you spoke “… Ivar always wanted children, it’ll strengthen his hold on the throne and it’ll…”.

“What about you?” Astrid focused the attention on you.

And you couldn’t help but want to vomit, and not because you were feeling nauseous.

Nobody had ever asked your opinion.

“… my mother died because of running around her children. Exhaustion claiming her… ” something had been unlocked in you as you confessed that and Astrid’s gaze softened “… I always… she isn’t something I want to be… I like children, but… I am not sure of wanting them, now”.

Even more in this period.

You didn’t trust Gustaf, in the slightest.

That man reminded you too much of calmer version of your husband.

And your husband did nothing without a second purpose.

“… have you thought about…?” she didn’t have to say it, but you remembered the talk with Ylva, the name of the herb she had told you to take in case you didn’t want the child.

Now it’d have been extremely difficult to obtain it.

“Yes” you spoke softly “… my… healer Ylva has told me to take an herb in case I didn’t want it anymore, but now…”.

“If you don’t want this baby, you don’t have to carry it” she spoke as if it was the most natural thing ever, and you froze in your spot “… I am not saying it solely because it’ll indeed change your life for the worse or for the better, but because if you don’t want it truly… if you aren’t ready for it… it’ll grow unloved”.

She seemed almost to speak from experience and ducked her head away from you, as you looked at her surprised.

“… I can’t… I don’t know how to…”.

“I’ll get you the herb, no matter what” she promised you “… just let me know if you want it or not”.

Something broke inside of you at that thought.

The question of the baby had kept you up till late, but you had never had a deep and stable solution, something that could be more than a fantasy.

But now Astrid had given it to you, her eyes speaking of true sincerity.

She would have helped you if you didn’t want the baby.

She wasn’t lying.

“… I need to think about it”.

“Do it fast” she commented simply, almost as if you hadn’t had just a heart-to-heart conversation “… the herb won’t work after a certain amount of time”.

“I’ll let you know” you promised softly “… I just… need some time to think about this”.

And then you were surprised as you heard the door open, and immediately Astrid pushed herself away from you, meanwhile you tried to look at your fiercest, even with dried vomit on your clothes.

Gustaf walked in, a smirk on his face as he looked at you as if he was holding court.

Everything in him seemed damnably royal and it annoyed you to an extent that you would have gladly hit him if you had had your hands free.

“Good morning, ladies” he called out to you both, only welcomed by a grimace on your faces “… I have news for you, don’t you want to hear them?”.

“Fuck you” commented bitterly Astrid, but Gustaf seemed too happy with himself, to properly care about her comment.

“We have arrived at my home” he promised you softly “… and you ladies will be my welcome guests”.

---

“I don’t fucking care about anything!” screamed Ivar as Lagertha sent him an annoyed look, as one would with an annoying child who wouldn’t just lower his voice “… it is my wife we are talking about! She was fucking kidnapped because of your ineptitude in being queen”.

“Ivar, you either calm down or you’ll be back in your cell” threatened him the blond woman, meanwhile a few guards came closer.

“I don’t honestly know what he is doing here” commented your brother loudly, on the opposite side of Ivar, closer to Lagertha than him, and with a look of pure hate in his eyes.

Felix hadn’t been his best supporter, but he had never been an obstacle to your relationship as your father and older brother.

But Ivar knew that since he had tried to overtake Lagertha and pushed shame onto his sister, he hadn’t been his biggest supporter.

But he hadn’t expected him to straight up try to cut him off like that.

“… shouldn’t he be in prison?”.

“We called a truce” commented Lagertha.

“No, we didn’t” Ivar replied, shooting her a quick look “… I just value my wife enough to know when I have to shut up and lay down my weapons”.

“Then shut up” replied Lagertha “… I am not allowing my soldiers to get slaughtered to retrieve your wife, because they run into Gustaf’s lands blindly”.

“My wife is in their hands” he spoke harshly, before he shot a quick look to Felix “… you own bloody sister!”.

“I fucking know, you idiot!” replied Felix, getting up, as he towered over Ivar and for a moment, the cripple was truly scared, because Felix’ eyes spoke of pure anger.

One that he knew all too well.

“Calm down!” Tala, his sister-in-law screamed as she also got up, her pregnant belly immediately catching eyes.

She was near the birth date and she shouldn’t have been there, but she had insisted on staying in the council.

And Ivar could understand why.

“Your silly male arguments won’t help (Y/N)” she spoke loudly, to make sure that all attention wasn’t on her “… I do agree that we can’t lose time, because she might be in danger, but I also know that going blindly in there won’t help in the slightest.”

Both Ivar and Felix were taken aback, because Tala was usually shy and gentle, she had been a constant comforting figure, but right now, she wasn’t ready to step down.

And she had told the truth.

They were also losing time arguing amongst themselves.

“… I love (Y/N), as a sister” she spoke, and now her softness broke through her front “… I can’t even fathom the thought that I’ll give birth without her by my side. But I’ll endure it, if I know that she’ll soon be safe in my arms and that we’ll be the same”.

Lagertha gently moved to the trembling pregnant woman, whispering a few comforting words, as Felix did the same, caressing her round belly, meanwhile Tala leaned against him, the man gently adjusting her so that she could sit on him, with her front against his, as she enveloped him in a tight hug.

Ivar couldn’t help but miss you even more dearly as this happened.

He just wished that he could do the same as Felix with you.

He wanted you there with him, because he wanted to apologize for the last words he had said to you.

They burned in his memory.

And he just wished he could bring you as close as Felix was doing with Tala, whispering soft and comforting words.

But he had never been able to do such a thing.

He had solely been able to break your heart.

“… I’ll wait, but…” he commented, breaking apart the beautiful moment “… I am worried for her”.

“We are all worried for her” assured him Lagertha, as she shot a quick look to Felix, who continued in hiding in his wife’s hair “… and Astrid is with her, so believe me I have no intention to let this go”.

“I’ll gut Gustaf” he hissed roughly, after that, because he couldn’t shove his anger onto Lagertha or Felix if he wanted to have some alleys in his mission.

But Gustaf?

That fucktard wouldn’t have lasted a day once he got ahold of him.

“We all agree on that” answered him Lagertha, with a dark smile.

He’d have you soon in his arms.

And he’d have his revenge.

But for now, he’d just listen in to the what the council knew about Gustaf.

He seemed a ghost, who had risen to power during the insecurity of the throne of Kattegat, meanwhile they were in England.

He had started with small raids around fellow Viking villages, and had proclaimed himself king, raising a small but sneaky army.

Lagertha admitted to having undervalued him, thinking he wouldn’t be anything too big and that Kattegat would have held itself against him.

But it hadn’t.

And now you were paying for all her mistakes.

---

A few women had been allowed inside the boat to wash your body from days of dirt and to preserve your modesty from the men’s eyes, as they gently dabbed your body with water soaked tissues that they pressed to your body, then moving you to a bathtub brough inside just for you and Astrid, allowing you a bit of intimate time.

The one it took you to give Astrid your answer.

During the time that you had had before the boat had docked, you had realized one thing.

This child hadn’t been blessed by a good timing.

And as much as you knew that Ivar would have cursed you for your decision, you couldn’t deny that if the gods had blessed your pregnancy, they wouldn’t have allowed Gustaf to take you.

They would have allowed your pregnancy to appear much before.

But in truth they were all pretty lies about the fact that you were scared to end up like your mother.

And not solely a tired woman, relegated to child bearing but one that wouldn’t have loved her children truly.

For all this time you had tried your best to fake that the growing belly on your stomach wasn’t anything more than a dream, a feverish dream.

You had tried not to get too attached to the baby.

You hadn’t considered it truly, except when your belly stiffened for another vomiting session.

You just couldn’t bring this pregnancy to its rightful end.

There were so many reasons why it was cursed.

And in the end as Astrid had said: it was your decision.

‘I can’t keep the baby’ you had whispered in her long hair, free from the braids to be properly washed, as she kept her face impassible ‘… I’ll wait to know your plan to get rid of it’.

Although the words seemed to easy, they hurt your tongue.

Almost as if somebody had decided to rasp coarse paper against it.

And now your tongue bleed, crying for the injustice of the words.

‘Sweet baby’ that was the first time you addressed it in your mind ‘… I can’t have you, right now. It wouldn’t be fair to birth you in chains, meanwhile your father has his own plan to destroy himself’.

There would have been others.

You tried to console yourself with that thought.

But your tricky mind knew that although you might have been blessed with others, they would have never ever been like this one.

And yet, it was the best choice through the worst-dealt cards Destiny had given you.

Astrid didn’t give you any judgement and lightly nodded, the only semblance of an agreement appearing between you two, as she moved to wash your hair.

And you were glad she couldn’t see your tears for the child that you had never wanted and would never have.

You tried to focus on the steps ahead, instead.

Now that you were on land, you’d have both advantages and disadvantages.

It certainly would have been easier to go escape on land, but at the same time you wouldn’t have made it quite far, hadn’t you found a way to secure yourself boat back to Kattegat.

And most importantly you didn’t know where you truly were.

You hadn’t been able to keep up the time in the stomach of the boat, although you were sure that not even a week had passed since you had been kidnapped, so you couldn’t truly understand how far you were from home.

It was almost torture to think about everything that was wrong and difficult in that moment.

Because you saw no way to escape this.

But you had to keep your mind lucid to see anything that might be helpful.

So, for now you played the caught princess, as you let the guards bind your hands together, thinking about the fact that it would have been so easy to knee them in the groin, grab the rope and tighten it around their necks, as your older brothers had taught you.

You just smiled as Gustaf moved to examine you.

“Gotta make sure that you look like the princesses I promised my people” he smirked, as he looked at the dress you were wearing, something that was quite luxurious you had to say, but it just made you feel exposed “… now smile”.

“You might have bond my hands, but you don’t control my mind” replied tightly Astrid, as he moved to examine her, meanwhile the guards’ eyes ranked over her body as you heard tight whispers of ‘whore’ and ‘fucking cunt’.

You kept your mouth shut.

And not simply because you were feeling like retching again.

Gustaf ignored completely Astrid’s comment and simply turned to you, as you ducked your head, playing the submissive lady act.

You were led away and before you knew it you were in the middle of nowhere, as you tried to understand your surroundings, but it was nothing like Kattegat, although the weather was quite much more chilly and you were almost glad when Gunnar gentlemanly enveloped you in his mantle.

But at the same time, it reminded you of your first ‘date’ with Ivar, making you feel guilty for the intimate gesture.

Ivar back at that time had been too nervous for any physical contact, but as he had seen you shivering, he had cursed loudly commenting on your stupidity to wear ‘such a light dress on such a cold night’, but he had wrapped you up in his own furs, finally finding the courage to envelop you in a loose hug.

But then as you moved further on the hidden road, an hidden city revealed underneath you, spurred on by the heavy movements of the soldiers marching with you, enveloping in a tight grip your bodies, as Astrid also looked as surprised as you.

And entire population, half the one of Kattegat, but still impressive, was living in rocks-like house, something that would have almost seemed like a fairytale, hadn’t it been reality happening in front of you.

“… I know that it isn’t as majestic as your own city, but this is my land, ladies, the one that will host you till we get your weight in gold” he presented it to you, as more people came out of their small huts.

“So, we are hosts?” this time it was your voice unable to stop itself from emerging “… why then are my hands bound?”.

“For your safety, my lady” commented Gustaf with a triumphing smile “… wouldn’t want you to run off and be brought back with the hard manners”.

“My husband will have your head if you touch as much as a hair on my head”.

Because even if you and Ivar were on strained terms, he wouldn’t have allowed you to be dishonored.

If not for your honor, certainly for his.

“Then you better behave, lady (Y/N)” commented Gustaf with hungry eyes moving to your body and you tightened the mantle around your body, as you felt like a useless bratty princess.

Gustaf clearly wasn’t scared of Ivar.

He should have been.

But the fact that he wasn’t, made him bold… and dangerous.

“… she is a princess” backed you up, Astrid as her hands went to your “… I wouldn’t forget that”.

“Princes, princesses and subjects… that’s how the world works, isn’t it?” asked Gustaf, something almost fanatical appearing in his eyes “… but that isn’t how it works in my land! I brought here the rejects, the warriors that were left behind…”.

And you immediately noticed that a few of the men around you had missing limbs or didn’t look in the slightest like the typical image of a warrior.

“… the women that nobody wanted” and this time it wasn’t simply the one that didn’t look ‘normally’ beautiful, you knew he meant that one that nobody wanted to marry and the ones that had been too abused by men to want another between their legs “… and the children that nobody wanted”.

His voice seemed to shift onto a softer tone as he said this, almost as if he had personal experience in this.

You took the information and stored it in your mind.

“… so welcome to the land of nobody, my ladies” he proclaimed with a quick look at you both “… this will be your new home from now on”.

----

Ivar had been allowed to go back home on his own, although he knew that Lagertha’s spies trailed after him.

More because they were worried that he might try to do something stupid to get you, than because they were sure he’d try to overthrow Lagertha.

And hadn’t Ivar had that ‘small’ fight with you, he would have certainly thought about that.

But now, he just couldn’t.

You had been right in berating him, after you had searched for a solution that his goddamn pride made him refuse to accept.

And now you were paying the consequences.

He knew that you had to be treated well.

That’s what he would have done with such an emotionally important hostage.

Touching one single hair on the head of such an important hostage would have meant the captor’s death, if they hadn’t the army to back it up.

Their gain would have been more if you were alive.

But you could have been bruised.

Roughed up and… made to service men.

And he would have made them paid dearly for it.

He was trying to bring himself to move away from the hallway of Kattegat, thinking that even if he wouldn’t have slept, he would have probably smelt a bit of your perfume in your mattress, when he saw somebody walking in.

Ylva, your healer and friend.

He was surprised to find her, but she smiled at him sweetly, as she moved further up to him and the guards in the hall let her come closer, although he saw a spy dispatching himself from the others, probably to inform Lagertha of this meeting.

“Ahhh look at the lucky man!” she commented softly, as she came closer to him and he tried his best to smirk softly at the older woman.

She had been the main reason why he had been able to marry you, since she had constantly supported you in your decision to marry the crippled prince, alongside helping him to get through the pain, with brews of herbs and bottle of oils.

“Ylva, what are you doing here? Are you not supposed to be in your hut throwing curses and brewing potions?” he asked trying to appear gingerly happy.

Ylva lived isolated from everyone, so he was sure she hadn’t heard the news of your kidnapping and he reasoned with himself that it was best not to say anything, at least for a bit since.

Ylva had been like a mother to you and he knew that she was also attached to you, like one.

He didn’t want to make her worry.

“… I do that only on special days, you know me, Ivar!” she commented before shooting him a softer look “… and what are you doing out of the cage? I thought that you were locked inside”.

“I escaped” he commented dryly.

“Then (Y/N) convinced you, didn’t she?” she smirked sweetly at him and hearing your name was like a punch in the gut but he tried his best to hide it “… I knew that the child would do the trick…”.

“What child?” asked Ivar confused, although a terrible sensation started brewing in his stomach as Ylva shot him an annoyed look, almost as if she thought that he was playing dumb.

“The one in her stomach, Ivar” she commented immediately and suddenly Ivar couldn’t help but choke on his own breath “… your wife is pregnant, Ivar! But I confide she has told you…”.

You were with child…

… in some foreign island…

“… she hasn’t told me, actually” he obliged himself to speak as Ylva came to support him “… she hasn’t been able to… she… an attack overcame Kattegat, and she was taken…”.

He had berated you for not having given him a child, in your last meeting.

And now you were pregnant.

And away from him.

“Ivar…” breathed Ylva anchoring him back to earth, and away from the horrible thought he had been having about you, broken and your unborn child separated in the womb from you “… I had no idea…”.

“I’ll bring her home” he promised to Ylva, because he knew that no matter what he’d bring you back to Kattegat.

And then he didn’t know if it was the shock or stress, he passed out in Ylva’s arms.

---

You had been led into one of the largest rock-houses, discovering that inside they could be quiet homely, and rich, although the entire design tended to look more like a jumble of various riches that probably came from different raids.

Or so you supposed.

You saw them throwing in a few of the ones they had successfully stolen from Kattegat as you were led to your own private rooms.

More like cells, although they were ample.

You had been locked inside, till you heard a pipping voice chatting brightly with the guard, and soon the door opened under a small key that the girl hid quickly her cleavage, but you noticed the movement, trying to search a way to make her accidentally spit it out.

She was quite a beauty, although she had one missing eye, covered by an elegant bandage on it, bright pink of something that seemed quite exotic.

But her fierce attitude definitely made up for the absence of the eye.

She asked you what she could do to make your staying better, suggesting some herbs if you were still feeling nauseous from the boat.

“I’d like to know your name, firstly” you asked, knowing that to set up an emotional bond with anyone would have been useful, even more with the woman that had the literal key to your freedom.

She seemed taken aback by your request and you were satisfied by that, although she hid her surprise quite well.

“… and my stomach is slowly settling itself on his own, but what I’d like is some information, obviously if you are allowed to talk”.

She nodded, shyly, as she ducked her head away from you, almost as if she was used to hide the missing eye on her face.

Hadn’t she sided with your captors, you would have gladly befriended her.

“Of course, my lady”.

“This place isn’t on any map, is it?” because obviously the gods couldn’t make this more difficult even if they tried.

The girl shook her head.

“… it is an absolute desert spot and if you aren’t brought her, you’ll never know of its existance” she explained with her eye full of admiration, almost as if she thought this was the best that could ever come to her.

But the truth was that much hadn’t changed.

She was still a slave.

Just because they had changed her chains with the silky ones, it didn’t mean she was out of this.

Gustaf wasn’t a freer of people.

He was a man who saw the anger of rejections and used it against others.

Ivar and he would have gotten along well.

“That’s beautiful” still you played the surprised and brattish lady part “… it is absolutely extraordinary that this was all set up with no record from any other kingdom”.

You saw irritation fall on her face, as if she didn’t want any mention of other kingdoms in her own.

Well, sadly for her, you and Astrid would ruin her marvelous plans.

“… we have no other way than to shield ourselves form the kingdoms that have rejected us” her voice spoke of a pain that made your eyes soften “… sadly we haven’t many choices, unlike you”.

You wanted to tell her that your own freedom wasn’t as wondrous as hers.

But you held your tongue and simply smiled sadly.

“Do you know who my husband is?” you asked her softly “I am the wife to prince Ivar The Boneless, and I can assure you that he made many great things, even with…”.

“… he is a prince, my lady” she commented, again that tight look that this time hit straight in the bullseye “… I was nothing but a miller’s daughter, when my master’s wife caught me spying on her at her husband’s order, catching her with a slave. She made him take my eyes and then told me I should have thanked her for having done ‘a clean job’ “.

Pure anger burned in her eye, as you thought about how similar it had been to Ivar’s.

Hadn’t Gustaf been his competitor, they might have understood each other.

But men with rage that burned so brightly would have never been friends.

They would have burned everything around them.

“I am sorry” you mumbled, as you sent her a tight look “… I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories”.

“I just look forward to the future, my lady” she commented softly, as she sent you one last look “… this place isn’t so bad, once you get used to it”.

“I hope not to sound annoying, but I really hope not to get used to it” you whispered, hoping she wouldn’t hear you, and if she had, she gave no signal of it “… and I hope this won’t sound terrible rude from me, but I’d like to relax a bit, sleep even”.

“Oh, of course, my lady” she replied, hiding quite well her offended expression from you, as she ducked away, locking you in.

And you passed the following three hour counting down the minutes to make sure that you could get ahold of the time, as you watched the color of the sky change, although the windows of your chamber had been chained in, to avoid you another easy escape.

After three hours, the girl finally came back, something much more submissive in her glance as she tried to make you talk, finally revealing you her name, Kari.

But you tried to keep everything close to your chest, as if this was some kind of interrogation.

Kari had you swiftly changed in a new dress, this was far more decorated than the one you had been dressed with, although you were grateful for the fur stitched on its shoulders because the coldness of the rocks, no matter the fireplace blazing, seeped also inside the rocks.

You thought it must be the humidity that stuck to your skin like a second skin.

Although the dress was far more covering than the other, you felt naked without your chess pendant, as you fidgeted with your fingers against its original position.

The thought of having lost it making your heart break.

Although your relationship with Ivar was quite strained, it still hurt you to have lost it.

Ivar had been so proud when he had given it to you.

It had meant the world for you.

Alongside what he had told you to accompany it.

It had made you feel for once as truly his match and not simply his wife.

As you were dressed, all jewelry you wore was taken off you and you could totally understand why, although you didn’t wear much.

Anything could be a weapon, in the right hands.

‘You’ll have them back, my lady’ had commented Kari, as she took your wedding ring matched with your golden earrings.

You doubted they would ever come back to you but you tried to simply nod, before Kari informed you that your hands would have been left unbound to let you eat in piece.

‘Please don’t try anything, you’ll simply hurt yourself’ she finished explaining, treating you almost as a child, and you played along, because you were sure that trying to escape right now would have been a death sentence.

But still the tone she used irritated you.

Almost as if you were to be treated like a precious doll.

And you weren’t.

You had never wanted to be one.

But you endured it, doing your best to keep your mouth shut.

You didn’t understand Gustaf’s way of playing with you.

This wasn’t the way you would have treated hostages.

Certainly, it was good that he didn’t want to hurt you, but at the same time…

… it made things just unclear to you.

But you were thankful to be brought out of your room, although it wasn’t as small as a cell, it made you uncomfortable to say the least, and although surrounded by guards you felt comfortable in the hall as you looked around with curiosity scanning each door and person.

You were brought down a flight of stair in a bigger room, lighted up by a lot of candles laying around, because of the tough interior of stone, making everything seem quite wary, almost a war room organized to be a parlor for guests.

As if you were guests and not hostages.

And you realized that it was what Gustav wanted to make you seem like.

Honored guests coming to bless him and his people, as you came to a ragtag table full of good smelling food, something that awakened your hunger and before you knew it your own child gave you their own blessing to eat, easing the nausea.

Astrid appeared on the other side and before you knew it, she came barging to you with more emotion than she had shown for the entire time you had known each other.

But soon you discovered that there was much more behind it.

Her hands pushed something in the back of your dress, over into your fur, sticking it to the pins in it, and she whispered in your head to act natural and you did, smiling at her in the most heartsick way.

Soon the guards put themselves between you, regaining order, as Gustaf walked in.

Both on the boat and outside of it, you hadn’t been able to get a good look on his face.

You had to say that indeed he was quite handsome.

He had long light blonde hair, which had been properly set up in a combed hairstyle, highlighting the harsh plane in his face, although he looked quite smaller than you had thought.

Had you to say something about it, you would have commented that he had been a premature baby.

He still wore extremely fine clothes, probably the finest in the entire room, hiding his figure and keeping the straightest of figures.

He might have been truly a beautiful creation.

Hadn’t his eyes shone with such a wickedness.

“Princess (Y/N)” now he addressed you properly, but you knew it was all for the people looking at you “… princess Astrid, how did you find your rooms?”.

You stopped Astrid’s remark on her lips, mumbling a soft ‘fine’.

“… I am glad to hear that” he replied, as he pushed one hand out to you, as if he expected you to take it, but you simply smirked back and moved to grab on Astrid’s one, who although hid it, seemed definitely surprised “… we shall sit at the table, by my side, as the honor guests they are”.

This time Astrid’s reply came before of your reply.

“Weren’t we prisoners?” she addressed him harshly and you moved to push her back, as something dangerous appeared in Gustaf’s eyes, but disappeared as soon as his eyes settled on you.

“You are my hosts, as long as you behave”.

A veiled threat.

And your head went accidentally to your stomach, already disappearing before you could fully understand what you had done.

“Now sit down and eat with us” ordered you Gustaf and you complied, getting sat, as you dragged Astrid with you, the guards to push the chairs out for you.

You tried to focus on the food, finally able to eat something without the need to retch it completely, finding yourself famished.

It was also easier because it meant that you could avoid conversations and just hear the other speak, although not much was said, soon Gustaf prompted you both to speak.

He started asking you questions, to which you answered with tight mumbles and slight moves of your head.

“You aren’t a woman of many words, princess (Y/N), are you?” teased you Gustaf and you simply moved to raise your head to send him a tight smile.

“I don’t think that pretty words are needed now” you commented back, as you pushed to go back to your food.

“… not even with your husband?” he replied with a devious smile, something that made your anger spike up, as it almost seemed another invasion of intimacy “… because I think that’s the only thing he can do to entertain a woman”.

You choked on your breath as Astrid shot you a warning look

Still, one thing was to insult you.

Another was to insult your husband.

Mostly on such intimate things, nobody truly had the knowledge of.

As Ivar would have defended your honor, you would have defended his.

Always

“I think that is a case in which pretty words aren’t needed” you commented sternly, as you turned to him cleaning your face in a tissue, before you raised from your chair, alerting a guard “… and so is my presence, I’d like to return to my room”.

“It wasn’t meant to offend you, princess” Gustaf’s eyes burned for the humiliation that you had put him through, but his words were pleading “… do stay and enjoy your meal”.

“I have had enough” although your stomach grumbled “… and I am tired. This is my first night on something that doesn’t move, I want to enjoy it fully”.

Kari immediately moved to follow you, meanwhile the guards waited for Gustaf’s orders, which were simply pushed out by his hand waving dismissively, although his eyes stayed on you till you left the room.

Astrid sent you one last look, her eyes sending you her ‘goodnight’.

And soon you were in your bedchamber, surprising Kari as you asked her to bring you some herbs and hot water to help you digest all the food that you had eaten.

‘… I might have exaggerated with it’ you tried your best to sound helpless and naïve.

Kari just nodded her head, leaving you effectively alone, as you grabbed the small pocket Astrid had pinned in your fur, effectively finding it was the herb you needed.

If it was like Ylva had told you, you’d have to put it in hot water and then drink it and it would have…

… it would have…

… changed you.

When Kari came back, your hands were shaking and you had hidden the herb in the ample sleeves of your dress to be able to hide it among the various herbs she brought alongside a cup of boiled water.

She tried suggesting you a few herbs as you moved to push the ones that you had hidden in the sleeves in its plate as she shifted her attention away from you, and then made your choice, proceeding to put it in the water.

Now all you had to was wait.

And then drink the awfully smelling beverage.

Kari seeing your choice brought everything away, trying to fret around you to avoid seeming as if she was wasting time and you waited for her to leave you alone, to move to check on the beverage, telling her to leave you alone so that you could sleep a bit.

‘I am truly looking forward to sleeping on something that doesn’t move’ you commented trying to brighten up the mood, although you had to hide the shivering of your hands.

And as you turned, the beverage was ready, of a dark color that made your face appear on its reflection, as you thought for one last time about whether this would be a good or not decision.

It was the best among some many bad decisions.

And right when you were moving to drink it, the door behind you opened.

And your hand almost accidentally dropped the mug.

You were halfway through telling Kari if she had forgotten you anything, but Gustaf, instead, stood on the threshold and you couldn’t help but assume an immediate defense stance and utter:

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to express my apologies to you, more properly” he spoke loudly, as his eyes were kept on the cup and they slowly came back to your face “… check that you weren’t truly mad with me”.

“You kidnapped me! To say that I am mad with you is an understatement” you commented unable to stop the sass from leaving your mouth.

And you hoped it might distract Gustaf.

But his eyes were smarter.

“… this doesn’t have to be bad, if you don’t make it be” he commented, as he moved towards you as you felt your body suddenly freezing in its position, as he got the cup out of your hand, before he smashed it on the floor “… are you with child, princess?”.

You shook your head, but you were already feeling tears flowing down your face.

“Because I know for sure that frigid bitch of Astrid isn’t, but she asked for a contraceptive brew, claiming that my men raped her, meanwhile she was on the boat”.

And before you knew it, Gustaf, in his slender stature, had pushed you onto the bed, pulling on your hair, as you tried to fight back, but it was no avail, since he had quickly immobilized you under him.

The worry for your belly and the life in it that you had wanted to kill making you quit any attempt of rebellion as Gustaf forced you to look at him in the eyes.

“So, don’t fucking lie to me too, little princess” he spoke tightly “… are you with child?”.

“Yes” it was a choked sob and you tried to at least escape with your face from his harsh glare, as if it lessened the truth of your lips.

And then suddenly Gustaf’s body was away from you, his weight not offending you further.

But his eyes still scared you as they set up on your body, almost as if he could already see the pregnancy overcoming your body.

“You are much more precious than I thought, princess”.

---

@imjustareadersblog @ rose1729 @flowers-in-your-hayr @girl-toxxic @xwishax @heavenly1927 @saldelys @youbloodymadgenius @ fantasygirl1864 @orendamill @ fuckindiva @ thelittlestsnart @fleursviolettes @xwhateverstyles @ castielsangelsx @ sununicorn @regalonear @ bagpipes606 @suzem89 @ stepintothelightz @crys-1029 @rls905 @skylarhumphrey @ghostssss @ darkknightrascalhero @sassybananagardenartisan @ heauxprincesa @andreiaafaria @queenboosha @ captainamericaandspidermanfan @phanisforlife @queenofthe-nerds @ dangerousgiantalmondbat @thedeadhearted @ lightdarkandanythinginbetween @ darknessenvelops @ squids-for-knees @ iashleyhood @ invisiblekat57 @ elipurple @hoodcal96 @myheartbeatsjustforyou @walkingtothesun @peaceisadirtyword @alexhandersenx @a-mess-of-fandoms @maggiescarborough

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Angst #Angst #Ivar Lothbrock #Ivar Lothbrock Imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar Lothbrock Reader #Ivar Moodboard #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #History Vikings

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Bow To No One (Teaser)

Illyrian! Ivar+Half Fae/Half Illyrian! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

This is my entry for @geekandbooknerd writing challenge!

Since we are both a fan of Maas’ books I just had to set up this fic in an ACOMAF AU, so I’ll have to fill in a few of you guys on how this world works, so be sure not to skip the introduction on the full piece (which will be out on Sunday).

This is very strange from my writing and I really hope that you’ll still like it (also because... I MIGHT HAVE A SEQUEL IN MIND), but I understand that is a bit... different.

As always: just like this teaser to be tagged in the full thing!

(The ACOMAF universe and its characters don’t belong to me, but to Sarah J. Maas!).

WARNINGS: Mention of Blood, Abuse, Slight Nudity and Sex, Misgyny, Mention of Mutilations and Battle, Torture.

“You suggested attacking Mercia, at the council” you hadn’t thought anybody had listened to your idea “I agree, they have been exposing themselves too much not to be hurt”.

“You are absolutely not saying this because they were the ones who killed your father, are you?” you replied to his discourse, well aware of your sources on the Ragnarssons.

Ragnar Lothbrock had been killed the previous year during the civil war by lord Aella, when he had tried to take back some lands that neared with his.

That been the main reason why the Lothbrocks hadn’t taken part in the civil war but wanted to play a decisive part in this one.

Ivar had been with him, or so you had heard, during his crazy idea of gaining back what Ragnar thought was rightfully his.

It was the reason why he was so dead set on avenging his father and reigning the tides of this war.

He sent you an annoyed look, rolling his eyes at you, but you could feel that he had his own reasons to invade Mercia and you wouldn’t have held it against him.

“… don’t you have reasons of your own to want Mercia gone?”.

“As everyone else, because I know it’ll ease the pressure on us” you shot back, adjusting with your back straighter so that you could assume a queenlier appearance “… that is all”.

“I don’t trust that” he uttered, and you felt hit deep inside, but tried not to let him see “… but I can work with that. I’ll get them to attack Mercia”.

“That’s adorable” you muttered lightly “… Ivar The Boneless, you know as well as I how ‘easy’ it is for us to be taken seriously”.

“I will” and although you had undervalued him, his voice was steady as his eyes who found yours “… and then you’ll believe me”.

“Even better” you grimaced lightly, before an idea appeared in your mind “… if you get them to let us attack Mercia, I’ll pass a night with you”.

His eyes opened so widely that you were sure they would have rolled off his orbs, but you didn’t grace him with anything else than a last look, before you turned, getting ready for bed, as if he wasn’t there, till you heard him moving away.

Apparently, you had made an unlike alley.

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #ivar lothbrok #Ivar lothbrock reader #Ivar lothbrock imagine #ivar ragnarsson #Ivar Ragnarsson Imagine #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Angst #Angst #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine #ACOMAF AU #Illyrian AU

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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‘Big Ivar’ Meet ‘Little Ivar’

Vet! Ivar x Animal Volunteer! Reader (Modern AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Long time no see... so I am sorry if this honestly sucks, since I do have to say that it is the first finished writing that I am able to post on here, still I hope that you’ll enjoy it.

This was prompted by @rosepetals-flyingbirds who not too long ago bought me a coffee and let me tell you I am truly grateful for it, although it has taken me quite some time to come up with this and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

I do also hope that you won’t mind that I used your beautiful story for the this small drabble it just inspired me that I had to put it on here, and I hope you won’t mind, in case you do, don’t hesitate to let me know!

I also have decided to start over, both through the fact that I won’t post the whole drabble on here, but there’ll be a link to the AO3 post, and also I have chosen not to use the old taglist, I just felt like it kind of... felt like a bother to the people on it.

Still, if you’d like to take part in it, just let me know!

(I am just going to tag @apocalypsebarbiee! I hope you won’t mind)

Have a lovely day!

SUMMARY: After a run in one night, Ivar, a grumpy vet, is left completely enthralled with the cute volunteer who shares his passion for saving animals' lives.

And well... a little furryball might just help them get together.

WORDS: 5, 4K

WARNINGS: Animal Cruelty, Animal Abuse, Modern AU (also I am not an expert so sadly I am sorry if anything is inaccurate).

Ivar’s job as a vet was honestly better than many thought most of the time.

And he was better at it than many had foreseen, since he could barely tolerate humans.

But with animals it was different.

They knew how to cherish humans in their own way and they were damnably beautiful in each of their different shapes, making every imperfection a mark of beauty and he just had the time of his life having wounded animals come in his ambulatory in the worst of shapes and exiting it as healthy and strong animals.

Always looking at Ivar happily.

And although his brothers called it a ‘god complex’, he loved the way it felt to help those animals.

And it got him in a few interesting situations.

A few weeks ago, he had been almost hit by a volunteer of a nearby animal shelter, on his way to the reception, since he had been called by the animal shelter about an emergence, eventually discovering that it had been a dog being stabbed and left to die.

He honestly hated humankind indistinctly.

But those who hurt animals deserved the worst.

He had moved outside of the surgical room, meanwhile Hvitserk’s girlfriend, Thora, set up the surgical room, so that he could have a quick check up on the dog, before choosing what to do, since he had heard that at the animal shelter the volunteers had been able to stop the blood loss, but infections might still get in the way.

The volunteer had resulted being you, a pretty young lady with a smile that made him feel fuzzy inside and a passion for animals that matched if not went further than his.

You had looked positively shaken as Ivar raised himself quickly, able to stand on his feet, meanwhile you had been knocked behind, cradling softly a leg with your hands, since it must have clashed with one of his braces, hurting you.

He had once kicked his brother Sigurd with one of them when he was younger and it had resulted in a broken bone, so he knew it was extremely painful and had it been anybody else, he would have ignored, focusing on the animal, but as he took a quick look at you, he couldn’t help but blush.

And dig up the few manners his mother had taught him.

You must have been pretty new, because he hadn’t seen you, yet, and as he reached out an hand to help you up, you had gently smiled at him, a ‘sorry’ on your lips, as both your head were soon turned to a sad growl, the dog needing Ivar’s cares.

So, as he told the nurses to bring him in, he tried to mutter a quick ‘no worries’, moving inside to operate on the dog, discovering that a few stitches wouldn’t have been enough for this case and looking at the state of the dog’s mane he would have needed to make a few shots to avoid any infections.

Whoever did this, deserved to suffer.

Painfully.

The operation had taken two hours, and he had exited it only after Thora had moved onto proceeding to give the dog a few shots, since the poor animal was completely exhausted and he wouldn’t let Ivar come closer to him, although he had tried to calm him down with soft ‘down, good boy’ and ‘at ease, sweet one’, but in the end, he had reacted better towards Thora.

And he had let her.

He hadn’t expected anybody to be in the waiting room after the operation had finished, not only because it was pretty late, but volunteers wouldn’t stick around for much longer than to leave the wounded animal.

And he couldn’t hate them, because most of the time they were very busy and in many cases they had either school or job to be at, so he didn’t blame them.

But the cute volunteer had still been there, clearly at unease and stressed with the way she gently played with her hands, biting her thumbnails, nervously before moving onto drumming her fingers on her thigh.

And as soon as you had seen him, you had raised up from the small chair you were sat on.

Making Ivar wonder what he could say, at the moment.

‘… maybe stick to the dog, Ivar’ he told to himself.

Find the complete piece on AO3!

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar Moodboard #Ivar The Boneless Moodboard #Modern AU #Vet! Ivar #Vikings #Vikings History #Vikings Imagine #Ivar Lothbrock #Ivar Ragnarrson

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Rev Up Your Engines

Team Manager! Ivar x Team Manager! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I did this small thing for @dreamwritesimagines‘ challenge (her fics are actually one of the first that I ever read and they are the ones that inspired me to start writing and be active in the ‘Vikings’ fandom).

I do hope you’ll like it and this might be a series (although after October I’ll stop writing other stories).

Also I just wanted to give you a few heads up since this is set up in a MotoGP AU:

FIM=the guys who check regulations and other stuff (give penalties and check the circuits).

There are three steps before qualifying (FP1, FP2, FP3) (which are basically free practice) and there there is qualifying and the race.

If you need anymore info, I am here.

If you liked this, please consider leaving me some feedback, either through a comment or a reblog, I’d just apprecciate to know if you like this kind of thing or would be interested in others.

Feedback makes us writers write faster, and our heats beat stronger!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Having a rival such as Ivarr can be the worst nightmare for many, even more for you, who seems to be his latest prey outside of the circuit.

WORDS: 5,5 K

WARNINGS: Bullying, Misogyny, Mention of Dementia and Herat Problems, Troubled Family.

Women in sports were only welcomed in two ways: silent or in bikinis.

And you weren’t in neither of the positions.

You were actually in the worst position for a woman in a sport like ‘MotoGP’.

You were the daughter of a stable owner, having inherited the whole stable after your father’s heart problems had obliged him to stay behind.

Your hands were already hands in the family business, operating through a more secluded area, mostly in the social media market, when your father had asked you to take care of his beloved stable, the thing that had always brought him away from you.

And you had taken it onto yourself.

Although you barely knew anything about the dangerous sport.

You had at first tried your best through informing about all the important things of the sport, although your researches had been mostly done by yourself, because the team wasn’t very cooperative, even more after you had shown your interest in the more practical side of it.

Everybody expected you just to sign checks and party with the pilots.

So, when you had suggested innovations to both the team and the bikes, you had been met with weirded out eyes and annoyed dismissals.

And you had to admit that the whole thing was heavy on you, who had never liked the whole biking panorama, mostly because although your father had been thoroughly a fan of it, you had grown with your mother, separated by a father that spent more time at the stables than at home and eventually this had brought your mother to exhaustion, making her run away when you were barely fifteen and you had been left to raise yourself on your own.

Still, ignoring your obvious disinterest, you had done everything in order to pass the winter tests and present yourself with a powerful team of mechanics and a duo of young but promising riders, coming to the first competition with hopes and expectations, just to get your idiotic riders to crash into each other.

And you had been greeted with the laughing of all the other teams on the team radio.

To say that you were displeased it was an euphemism and you had almost thought of seriously leaving the reigns of everything to the whole mechanic team, but eventually you had just tightened your teeth and got your idiotic riders to collaborate, through threats and small smiles.

And eventually you had set yourself to become fourth in the ‘constructors’ championship’, something that wasn’t bad, in the slightest, even more because your father, in the latest years, had always hung lower in the gradings…

… but as you had slowly started to raise in the motosport climate, you had soon understood that it wasn’t simply your own team who didn’t like your presence, but also others…

… more specifically the team that was in third place in the constructors’ championship: the Lothbrock.

It was also a family-established stable, the sons having inherited it from their father, but unlike you, they weren’t only an all-male group, but also they had stuck on the circuits for much more time than you, not only having more experience, but also having more complicity with the whole team.

Ragnar Lothbrock had created the team with the few money he had received from his own father, siding with a bigger stable, and eventually growing to fame and success as he gained slowly more and more freedom, which lead to him creating his own independent stable.

His sons had inherited it after his untimely death and if what their father had done was extraordinary, what they did was miraculous and extremely fulfilling, although they hadn’t yet won a championship, unlike their father.

Not to talk about the fact that Hvitserk, one of the youngest brothers, rode on the satellite team, ‘Lothbrock: The White Tire’.

They were highly competitive, even more because exactly like you, in their father’s late years they had lost much of the prestige for their own stables, although as of lately they had come to good places both in the riders’ championship and the constructors’.

All of this had been obtained under the lead of the youngest brother, Ivar, covering the same position as of you, in the team, setting himself apart from his brothers, and being the most competitive, although in a very non-sportive way.

And as of lately his focus had ended up on your own team.

Which was an obvious choice since you were the ones that were the closest to them and had one of your riders ended up on the podium the following week, you would have passed them, catching the third place.

So, flashforward to the following week, and right as you were partying for your first rider’s third place, champagne all over your clothes, you had been asked to follow the security to the commission, because that your rider’s podium was actually being discussed.

‘Your rider ended up on the green’ had tried to explain to the member of the staff, who had come to you to give you the bad news, as they passed you a piece of paper with a written complain.

Signed by the Lothbrocks.

‘I do know of that, but…’ you had shot back, already red from anger, as a few of the spokespeople of your team came near to you, trying to ease up with diplomacy the whole discourse ‘… he fucking got pushed by the Lothbrock driver’.

You knew perfectly that the rules required for the pilot who ended up on the green to lose a position, but at the same time the FIM had allowed your pilot to reach the podium with no complain.

And it was justified since the Lothbrock driver had basically thrown his front bike against your own, without any solicited contact.

Which had made them end up in the green.

They should be actually the one under investigation for having irresponsible driving.

‘… we are sorry, but you’ll still need to come to the headquarters immediately’.

But you had had to take a bit of time to scream in a bag, not wanting to ruin your riders’ party, and once you were halfway done with your breakdown, Cameron, your head of the mechanics, came to you and tried to calm you down, explaining that you hadn’t any fault in this.

‘I just fucking hate Ivar Lothbrock’ you had muttered, as you swiftly changed your dirtied team-shirt with a new one, in order not to give to your mortal enemy any reason to doubt you or challenge you, at the meeting ‘… why do you have to fucking try every dirty trick in the book, when you could spend the same time getting your fucking bike to be better?’.

‘We don’t all get a team manager with a brain’ had commented the man, softly smiling at you, because there wasn’t much he could do, in such a situation.

But you’d definitely report the incorrect behavior of the stables to the FIM.

‘… just breath calmly’ Cameron had then suggested softly ‘… don’t attack him and don’t lower yourself to his dirty tricks. We know we weren’t at fault for doing that, the FIM ruled it out, they are just being annoying’.

‘… more like assholes’ you uttered under your breath.

But in the end, there wasn’t much you could do, except being calm and talk quietly in order to get the FIM to realize that the Lothbrocks’ pretenses were solely abusing their time.

But as you stepped in, facing Ivar Lothbrock’s annoying arrogant smirk, you were halfway through having a hard time stopping yourself from hitting him square in the face.

‘… you were making us wait’ he simply commented almost as a justification for his shit face, as he crossed his arms over his chest, already plopped in his chair meanwhile behind him stood his older brother, Ubbe, looking as happy to be there as you.

‘… sorry your Majesty’ you muttered, gaining an harsh look from the team manager, although it was laced with surprise, because as soon you’d catch him looking at you or trying to stir up a fight, you’d back off, ignoring him.

He wasn’t used to you answering him.

‘… I was partying with my pilot’ you added just for the extra burn.

‘Congrats…’ he uttered, as impressed with you as he was with the dirt beneath his nails.

‘Gentleman and…’ the FIM inspector assigned to your case recalled you order “… lady”.

You sat down, keeping your gaze on whatever was in front of you, not wanting to give Ivar the satisfaction of even letting him bother you.

‘… Mrs. (L/N), you have already received a preview of why we have asked you to come here, but I’d like to explain it to you again’.

Oh Gosh, didn’t you love some ‘mansplaining’?

As if you hadn’t read the regulations yourself, consulting yourself with your own pilots and a team of experts.

‘I do know that it is against the rules to go through the green side, and that if a pilot do end up on it on the last lap, they lose a position…’ you retorted quickly, not wanting to lose any ground you stood on ‘… but my pilot didn’t go on the green, he was pushed in it… by Mr. Lothbrock’s pilot. You can obviously see it…”.

“That’s a whole other process” commented harshly the FIM inspector, sending you a glare that said clearly to stick to what you knew and not interfere with this.

But you were fucking pissed.

Even more when Ivar looked like he was extremely pleased with the FIM inspector’s behavior

“It isn’t a completely different process, but…” you tried to protest “… it is easy actually: hadn’t my pilot been pushed he wouldn’t have been thrown on the green. You didn’t rule him out of the third place after the race was finished, why would you do it now?”.

Because it was Ivar who protested.

And because you were an easy prey.

You were the one thing man like the FIM inspector didn’t want between their feet: a woman.

One in power and with many questions.

You could seem completely paranoid.

But had the same thing happened to Ivar, none of these questions would have been sent his way.

“My pilot was trying to overtake yours, the push was accidental” commented Ivar, probably because he had felt like he had been called out by your words, sending the FIM investigator an innocent look as if to say ‘you are crazy if you thought I did it on purpose’.

“… even if it was…” your whole tone seemed completely disbelieving of Ivar’s affirmation “… my pilot didn’t go on the green on purpose”.

“But he ended up on it” muttered the FIM inspector, something that you couldn’t deny, since the cameras of the stewards had caught “… and we have to be stricter with these rules, many have been daring more and more… and it won’t take much before this sport will end up being dangerous than it needs to be”.

“… it has already happened and you weren’t as severe with it as with me, although the pilots used it to their advantage” you muttered, feeling some kind of desperation cursing through you “…in moto 2, there was a similar thing happening and Martin, who went on his own in the green, wasn’t penalized”.

The whole situation was starting to be unbelievable and very much heavy on you, not solely for the fact that being diminished by the inspector in front of everybody was pretty humiliating (and to add something to it, the whole act being witnessed by a smirking Ivar Lothbrock didn’t help) but you couldn’t help but be heartbroken solely at the thought of letting your pilots know that they’d have to step down the podium.

Many would have thought it was a simple sacrifice, but they didn’t know the competition between all the pilots, but also all the sacrifices they made on their own to train to be the best of the best.

“… it’s moto 2” it didn’t seem in the slightest a justification to you, but you had noticed that fighting didn’t help, and neither did calm words or retorting ones “… we’ll announce it, tonight, this way you’ll be able to warn your pilots, and he’ll have to give back the trophy…”.

You had to say that your mind had zeroed after that affirmation, as your eyes found the satisfied ones of Ivar, slowly pushing himself up to talk with his older brother, Ubbe, probably expressing to him his happiness at having managed to make your stable keep your previous position.

Fourth, behind them.

But worse, you felt like a child being reprimanded in front of somebody that you hated.

An embarrassed shade of red coated your cheeks, but you endured it, making a mental note to require another FIM inspector to analyze the case, preferably not a misogynistic idiot.

After the reunion was over the FIM inspector dismissed you and Ivar.

The man immediately raised himself up a bit slowly, to set himself up on his crutches, helped by his brother, although he looked annoyed by the unwanted help.

He had been born with a genetic problem that made the bones in his legs brittle, a big disappointment for a father that had not only been a biker, but also had pushed his sons in the game as soon as they could walk.

So, part of you knew and understood Ivar’s bitterness and his desperate desire to prove his late father wrong, expanding his legacy.

You knew yourself how heavily a dynasty could hang on a child’s shoulder,

But this didn’t allow him to fucking destroy you to simply build yourself up.

You stood after him a few seconds later, seeing and witnessing his strength as he pushed himself on the braces and crutches he wore and trying to still your whole body so it wouldn’t tremble from rage once you got up.

You had to admit that Ivar was as beautiful as he was cunning and you weren’t surprised to know that the whole Lothbrock clan had admirers everywhere, having become a meme on the net, almost like a band with their own groupies.

He had beautiful tormented blue eyes, something that was common among the brothers, but his were definitely the most gorgeous, hauntingly active, unlike Ubbe’s matching glance, annoyed and tight, polite but in no way as firey as Ivar.

You would have loved to have him as a competitor.

But not this way.

And this was enough for you to raise yourself, as you strutted out, having a pilot to inform and a few interesting things to say to the journalists, who had already started filling your own stand.

But before you could do anything, Ivar’s hand shot out to you, hooking itself on your wrist, something that made you turn around extremely fast, hitting the man on the hand which held your hand, the grip loosening itself as he made a few steps backwards.

Probably because you looked like you could have burned him alive, on the spot.

“… I just…” whatever evil thing he wanted to say seemed stuck on his tongue.

“I have a pilot to inform” you muttered immediately, as you exited his grip and moved to turn around, just to have a brilliant idea and turning around for the last word.

Because he might have won the battle...

… but he hadn’t won the war yet.

“I fucking work with my team, instead of using dirty tricks for my own bidding”.

You had many times accused Ivar of using ‘dirty tricks’, but everytime it had been concealed between nice and soft words, the ones you used with the press, avoiding cursing and smirking the whole time to make the accusals seem more a joke.

You almost expected Ivar to reply something mean as you exited the building, but he simply looked like he had lost any ability to talk, his brother behind him having to shake him lightly to get him to react and right when he opened his mouth again to speak, you were gone.

It was better not to waste your words on a crook.

The news of your pilot being dropped from second to third place had been the scandal of the whole following week, which you had spent in a small island in Greece to relax a bit, you had come back home to journalists storming your house.

‘I can’t make any comments’ because you had been warned not to, since a second investigation was in place, although Christian, your first pilot, had had to already give back the trophy already ‘… we’ll see and I am hopeful that the right choices will be made’.

Which meant that you hoped the Lothbrock would push back the appeal.

They had also been stormed with journalists and attack.

Although the FIM inspector hadn’t had much interest for your version, the media had been actually very interested in hearing your own side of the story, alongside the fact that the audience cheered for your squad since it was ‘a true underdog story’.

You had built a team from scratch after years of failures and you were swiftly raising to the Olympus of bikes.

Ivar’s reply had been the same of yours, just shorter and colder, and the Lothbrocks had chosen to make him disappear from the latest posts on their social medias, instead pushing forwards his brother, who had been scoring a lot of points in the latest race, although the satellite team was much slower than the official squad.

But it was a win.

And it had made you regain the strength to face Ivar again the following week.

But you had had another big storm coming for you.

Your own father.

You had a complex relationship to your father: you obviously loved him, but you knew the feelings weren’t reciprocated

Your father hadn’t ever made you miss anything, except love.

You knew it could be worse, but to this day you found it difficult to face your father.

Even more when it happened in front of your mortal enemy.

Your father had been already in the stables when you had arrived, after releasing an official message about the sanction you had been undergoing for the last race’s ending.

He had been talking with your engineers, as you entered, everybody looking as uncomfortable as you, exchanging small talk with the man, although he immediately pushed for more information on the technical side of stuff.

Your pilots looked bewildered and with an annoyed smirk you simply tried to catch your father’s attention, to bring him away from the garage, this way the engineers could work in peace.

But you didn’t arrive halfway through the box that he was already vocally attacking you.

“Where the fuck are Trenner and Lobon?” asked your father, as you grimaced.

“… you have actually fired them two years ago” you muttered.

Your father’s heart problems hadn’t been the only reason why it had been suggested to him to slow down, but he had started showing signs of dementia.

He had forgotten your name the day you had come to visit him in the hospital and even worse, he had asked the names of pilots that had been in your stables, years ago.

“… I shouldn’t have…” he looked shocked as he always did when you revealed to him that he had forgotten something, which you did graciously, having discussed with his doctor about the trauma that acting like that might cause him “… do you think they are still on the market?”.

“They are retired, dad” again, calm tone and sweet words “… but what are you doing here? You should be at home, relaxing”.

“I heard the shit the Lothbrock threw on us” Gosh, you should have told his nurse to stop letting him see TV, even more the sport section “… what the fuck have you been doing in my stables?”.

His disappointment hung heavily on you and it stole your breath for a minute, but you regained your coolness immediately.

“I have been trying to do my best and we have reached new heights” again your tone was attentive and careful, slow and peaceful, but the end of it had an exasperated note and your father sent you an annoyed look.

He was clearly thinking that you were an undisciplined child.

Not that the undisciplined child was actually him.

“… the Lothbrocks have been playing dirty” you said it with your voice on low, since the garage next to you were the Lothbrocks’ ones, and you knew that many eyes were set on you “… I have the medias on my side, don’t worry dad”.

“Instead I fucking worry!” now the attention was definitely on you.

And with the side of your eye you noticed that Ivar was coming up right now, an earpiece in his hands showing that he hadn’t been aware of the convo till right now.

You tried to usher your father, lightly pushing him away to try to bring him away from all this attention.

“Too much of anything, you never know how to quit” uttered your father loudly, again, but he lost the second part of the discourse, lightly, his eyes shifting on Ivar who was suddenly close to you, probably trying to get pass the crowd of journalists.

Stealing a bit more of info and trying to pass unnoticed.

But your father’s eyes caught onto him quickly.

Changing completely attitude as he approached the man.

Although now you couldn’t deny that Ivar now, up closer, and under your father’s watchful gaze looked much younger than you had perceived him.

And definitely blushier.

“Lothbrock, fuck you are grown” commented your father, as you gently tried to catch his hand, playing the devout daughter’s part, as you tried to get him to shift away from Ivar.

Nobody knew about your father’s dementia and you tried to keep it away from the flashes of paparazzi, since it’d get many investors to back off and you needed them for at least this season.

Then had you proved your worth, you could have handled your father’s dementia publicly.

“… Mr (L/N)” Ivar called out to your father, smiling brightly although it was obvious he’d like to continue his trip “… it’s nice to see you again, we thought about you…”.

“Don’t bullshit me, boy” you hated your father’s presence, but you had to admit that seeing Ivar back off from his usual arrogant attitude was a bonus “… I know you fucking took advantage of it, but I am back to fucking stay”.

You stopped yourself from rushing your eyes to sky because if there was one place your father would go to immediately after this conversation, would be the medical center.

His heart was still weak, and he would just bother the mechanics.

And his demeaning behavior made you extremely uncomfortable.

You hadn’t had to take on his stables, after his sickness had made it impossible for him to handle it firsthand.

You had accepted because you thought it’d make him happy and proud of you.

But now his disappointment was heavy on you.

You weren’t certainly the best, but it had been years since the team had been stuck in the midfield and you were slowly bringing yourself to exit it, coming towards the fourth and third place.

If you couldn’t obtain his appreciation and respect through doing this, there wasn’t much you could do.

“… tell your father… tell Ragnar, that we are coming for the podium this time” your eyes opened completely, and you couldn’t deny that your hands started shaking, at your father’s obvious show of his lacking health.

You rushed to try to cover his phrase, but Ivar smiled softly at the man, something that you had to admit didn’t make him look like some kind of dangerous snake anymore and you smirked softly at that, returning the smile, with no intention to.

“… I’ll tell him, but we won’t let it go that easily” his voice was full of playful competition and you wondered where the heck was this guy when you were fighting for the podium, instead of the spiteful athlete you had been meeting constantly “… have a nice day, Mr. (L/N) and (Y/N)”.

And then he moved off, making you aware that he hadn’t ever said your name, till now.

And it sounded strangely so beautifully from his lips.

“That fucking wanker” commented your father as he went away, right as you remembered the assholish behavior he had always had with you.

And that now he knew about your father.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

You had been basically just laying face down on your hotel bed since you had come back.

Your father had been actually joined by his nurse, after you had found him in the paddock, and they’d be staying just for the qualifying set-ups and then see the game from home, since you didn’t want to have to worry about him and the pilots, at the same time.

He had actually gotten to know them and being surrounded by the whole atmosphere had helped calm him down, alongside his nurse knowing how to deal with him.

The entire situation still managed to make you worry, but you had been able to focus on FP1 and FP2.

FP3 and qualifying looked like they’d be stressing, but you had just received the news that the problematic of the previous race had been resolved with a win for you, and soon your pilot would be having back his trophy, and your team would regain the point.

You were officially back on top of the Lothbrocks.

And strangely you hadn’t heard anything from them.

Which was worrying.

Even more now that Ivar had officially witnessed your father’s conditions.

You were already expecting a sanction of having made him come in the garage although he wasn’t on the list of the people allowed inside of it.

So, you were just waiting and trying to ease all the anxiety in your body.

There were so many things that could go wrong.

So, you weren’t surprised when you heard a knocking on the door.

You were surprised when it turned out to be Ivar Lothbrock.

Your first reaction was to almost slam the door, but you held it quickly, knowing perfectly that there were many journalists in the same hotel and it was already scandalous that your open rival was visiting you.

Outside of the paddock.

“What do you want?” it wasn’t laced with annoyance but genuine curiousness, because you couldn’t find many reasons why Ivar would be here.

If he wanted to complain about the fact that you had gained the upper hand in the investigation, he could have reported it to the FIM, not to you.

“… were all the FIM investigators finished?” you muttered, now true sarcasm in your eyes “… and they decided to send you for some fucking idiotic claim, again”.

“I actually came here to apologize” the words seemed to burn on his tongue.

And you were again startled by the fact that he had just done something that you never thought you’d see him doing.

“… what?” you asked, sure of not having heard right.

“I didn’t realize that my behavior towards you was this offensive…” you didn’t understand the change of heart, hence you regarded Ivar as a dangerous beast ready to eat you up, had you lowered your attention “… I might have exaggerated”.

“Erase the ‘might’ “you weren’t able to stop yourself from the pure sarcasm in your reply.

“I have exaggerated my competitiveness against you”.

You didn’t honestly know what to say, simply settling up on torturing your bottom lip, as you bit it to try to keep your face in a calm expression, although you didn’t know whether you should be careful with what you said, assuming this was some kind of proof.

Or you should have just laughed at his face.

Either ways seemed very tempting.

“… I just came here to apologize” he repeated shooting you a look as if to understand your expression, probably because he expected it to be some kind of relief.

You blessing him with accepting his apologies.

“I don’t care” it was the words that you found more fitting for the entire thing “… I can’t even believe you”.

Ivar looked, in that moment, like he might have eaten the sourest of fruits that he was ever given, and he lightly bit off his own bottom lip, before lightly swiping his finger across it and nodding his head.

“… I understand it” he didn’t seem to, but you didn’t say anything more “… I just thought that I’d try my luck”.

“… and I hope that you won’t say anything about my father” you knew that uttering out what you just said might have been dangerous but Ivar looked like he was under a train because you hadn’t accepted his apologies.

“Don’t worry, in the slightest” he replied, raising his hand in front of himself “… I don’t mean to tell anybody”.

Which reassured you greatly, although you didn’t trust Ivar fully.

And you were halfway through pushing the door in his face, when he continued on talking.

“… I actually…” he looked as uncomfortable as you, but strangely you couldn’t bring yourself to close the door in his face.

It must have been because of those puppy dog blue eyes.

“… when did it start?”.

“The heart problems started it” the doctors had also explained to you that your father had been undergoing a rather stressful period that had brought both the problems to speed up during the years, eventually destroying both his heart and mind.

“Shit” muttered Ivar, and you honestly didn’t understand why he wanted to talk about this.

Was he seriously thinking of gaining as much info as he could and then sell you over to the medias?

Because it would have just resulted in a loss for him.

“… yeah, we are in big shit” you repeated “… I am trying to keep it hidden from the investors, since I know they wouldn’t trust my lead”.

Again, that light bite of lips and Ivar lowered his eyes to his feet, something that convinced you that maybe just maybe… he was hiding his own emotions.

“… when my dad died, the investors all left us and went to Lagertha’s side, we almost had to sell it to her” commented Ivar and you couldn’t help but be surprised, because the Lothbrocks had always been one of the best stables, both for the money and for the pilots.

You did know that Lagertha’s stables, ‘The Shieldmaiden’, their rivals, had been having quite the fight with the Lothbrocks, but you hadn’t ever thought it was rooted that far.

And this time you weren’t able to keep your face straight and Ivar probably recognized the surprise on your face.

“… it was all over the magazines”.

“I don’t read that shit” you had stopped since they had critiqued you.

You didn’t want to be held back by critiques or false information about your private life, in your work.

You had always grown up with the constant pressure of what others would say about you, because you were your father’s daughter and now that you had to come onto your own reputation, you would have done everything in your power to build it.

Instead of listening to what others created.

“I might have been wrong about you” commented Ivar, and you couldn’t deny that strangely it seemed almost like a compliment, on the mouth of the arrogant boy.

“Did you peg me for some kind of vain spoiled brat?” and strangely a smile came onto your face.

Becoming even bigger when Ivar blushed lightly.

“… I left out the ‘spoiled’ part out”.

You couldn’t stop the laugh on your lips.

“Well, I still think that you are an entitled asshole”.

“You are not the first one to think that for sure”.

And before you knew it you were both laughing loudly.

Enough to attract a few fellow guests of the hotel that sent you annoyed looks.

Something that made you move closer to hide yourself behind the door.

Although your exchange with Ivar was completely innocent, you knew that the press would have turned it all around.

“… I know this might be… I know that you might have better things to do than listen to an entitled prick…”.

“I said ‘asshole’ “ you shot back, as Ivar’s severe face turned into a smirk.

“… ok sorry… but would you like to come and take out a coffee? It’s on me for last Sunday’s dirty trick”.

You breathed out heavily.

Everything in you itched to reply a happy ‘yes’, but your whole body wanted for you to be attentive and to act in the best way possible.

Because what Ivar proposed might have been a dangerous trap.

But you were just exhausted from acting like you had a broom up your ass.

And you had to admit that you felt like Ivar probably felt the same.

He had clearly opened about the problematics after his father’s death.

And in case it was a coffee less to bother about.

“… I am coming but just know that my bed is very comfy, so if you are annoying… I’ll just ditch you for it”.

“Ok, you are definitely a spoiled brat”.

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Hey There Delilah

Ivar x Slightly Deaf! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

This is a special reward for @xbellaxcarolinax for having bought me a Ko-Fi!

I thoroughly apprecciate your support with every small cells in my body and I hope that you’ll at least enjoy this! It is rather a small thought for your nice gesture, but I hope that I was able to convey what you asked me to write!

Have a lovely reading!

SUMMARY: Faced with a concert of his brother, Ivar is soon forced to face much more than he thought to find.

WORDS: 2,7 K

WARNINGS: Talk of Disability, Use of The Word ‘Cripple’, My Scarse Knowledge About Classical Music, Insecurities, Brotherly Feuds.

Ivar really hated Sigurd.

So, being brought to an exhibition that actually was made to honor his brother made him particularly nervous and annoyed, enough that he had tried to fake anything to avoid it.

But in the end he couldn’t say much.

His mother and more importantly Ubbe simply wanted a nice family day, where they could enjoy Sigurd’s talent, without risking Ivar attacking him to stop his ‘annoying sound’ (what Ivar called Sigurd’s songs).

Still this didn’t mean he had to avoid complaining constantly about everything, starting from the fact that they had had to split up in two cars and he hadn’t been able to take the one with the ramp that’d help him to lower himself down without creating a great fuss.

And the seats of the auditorium weren’t in the slightest comfortable, although his mother had warned the place a week before about his needs, to make sure they reserved some extra space for Ivar’s legs, meanwhile the most they had tried to do was to change his place with one in the front row, away from his family.

And eventually he had set himself up with Ubbe obliging Hvitserk to give up his seat which was on the start of the row to allow him more space on his side, although it undoubtedly was still uncomfortable.

He had wanted desperately to throw a tantrum, but he had soon realized that he was already dosed with the embarrass of everyone looking at Sigurd’s little crippled brother.

He already didn’t like the attention on him, eventually settling on disappearing on his seats, halfway through opening his phone to check out a few songs that he truly liked.

But as quickly as he had gotten it out, Aslaug had taken it and thrown it in her clutch, with a seraphic smile on her face and an obvious suggestion of ‘just enjoying the show’ to Ivar, meanwhile the presenter finally announced the start of the musical event.

It started with the youngest classes, moving to the true talents, divided in classical music, modern music and techno music, the only category for which Ivar was curious.

He didn’t have a very musical ear, unlike Sigurd, something for which he admired and hated his brother, at the same time.

Whereas Ivar had always been recognized for something like his battered legs, Sigurd had always had his music and as much as he continued on complaining about how much he was ‘the forgotten’ son of the family, Ivar knew that Aslaug appreciated his soft sound, stopping herself a few moments to enjoy her son’s songs, outside of his door, whenever he played.

Sigurd had talent.

Ivar only a shit ton of flaws.

That was why he had been so against going to his brother’s concert, but in the end, he was there so he could just enjoy it, and although some weren’t the absolute best he had ever heard, he certainly enjoyed a few, his brother included when he presented himself.

Thankfully after Sigurd’s exhibition, which had gone quite well from the uproar of applauses that had started at the end of the performance (although Ivar would have joked, later, with him that it wasn’t anything but gratefulness for having finished playing that damned instrument), was one of the last ones.

It was followed by a small girl, probably just a bit younger than Sigurd and her violin, looking sober in a black dress with thin straps and an updo that showed up her lovely neck, adorned by a few golden chains, thin and elegant.

You looked, determined in your stare and graceful as you bowed softly to the audience, before adjusting the violin, and as much as Ivar had observed you attentively, he hadn’t expected the musical piece to actually involve him or interest him, thinking that it would have just sounded like something expensive he couldn’t understand.

But he couldn’t deny that you got him hooked from the first note of the song, and the elegant movements of your wrist, as the attach was a tempestuous storm, slowly dissolving in a light sound of calmness, completely numbing Ivar’s mind as he felt like he was basically following a story of some kind.

Delving into the darkness and then slowly bringing itself to the light till it reached it, in a shining ending that caught him completely off-guard and he found himself clapping eagerly at the exhibition, much before of all his brothers, who sent him a look as if to say ‘what the heck?’.

But he ignored them, hiding his emotional face away from them.

After everything ended they were supposed to spend a bit of time at the small reception, and although Aslaug suggested that she and Ivar simply take off, the main reason why they had taken two cars, Ivar muttered that he could withstand the torture a bit more, surprising everyone almost as if he had said the Apocalypse would be soon coming.

But truly, he wanted to catch a few glimpses of you, as the classical assemble was supposed to accompany the small refreshment after the musical event and although your music was lightly shadowed by the other instruments he could still enjoy it, meanwhile Sigurd came to get the compliments, being surprised by the fact that Ivar was still there.

‘… I thought you’d have already come home, listening to whatever metal you like’ he had commented, but Ivar, on whose soul your music had somehow operated a change, just scoffed at the suggestion, but did tell Sigurd that his music had been ‘bearable’.

Although his stare was sneakily focused on you.

He had preferred it much more when you had played solo, not because you were any less talented, but somehow the other instruments shadowed your talent, obliging you to keep yourself caged in a soft sound, barely hearable over the mundane chatter and clinking of glasses.

He really didn’t want to sound like a stalker, but he hadn’t ever been one for classical music, so the fact that you could enchant him like that was quite surprising for him, so he just wanted to catch the secret of that music.

And you were quite the nice spectacle to watch, he wouldn’t have denied it.

But all his alarms started ringing when he saw Sigurd coming closer to you, as you finished your exhibition, a DJ in your place, the blonde boy exchanging small talk with you, as you adjusted the violin back into its protective case, brushing your hands through your updo, lightly messed up by the movements of your arms.

You turned for a moment, as Sigurd probably told you that he had his family alongside him, watching them carefully, as you half-listened to what Sigurd said and for a moment Ivar thought you were his girlfriend.

Which was utter shitty luck.

But had Ivar ever been lucky?

And then you simply turned towards the classic group, excusing yourself, in an obvious rejection that showed up for a moment on Sigurd’s face, the boy clearly a bit annoyed by that but mostly saddened, and then he moved to meet his own group.

And then they had to leave,

And when Ivar looked out again for you, it seemed like you were gone.

Had you been a pretty mirage?

He got the answer when Sigurd excitedly talked about it over dinner, speaking about how cool it had been to performance with so many people, and explaining that they had even had an exchange student from Europe.

‘A true genius of the violin!’ he commented and Ivar’s ears raised up as ones of a dog hearing the steps of the postman ‘… (Y/N) (L/N) she is a professional at such a young age, Ivar’s age!’.

‘Are you implying something?’ Ivar had stroked the banter, eager after he had heard your name, glad to put a name to a face and have something to search up on Wikipedia.

He had said he wasn’t a stalker, but he might have to reconsider that.

Gosh, you were also an exchange student which meant you probably wouldn’t have stayed for much and if you had rejected Sigurd, who did look like an hurt mouse but with functioning legs, he certainly had zero chances for you.

Did it help his mind?

Certainly no.

The multitude of Youtube videos he had found of you playing, instead were nice and he even managed to catch a small interview, in which you looked quite younger, but your face held a strong determination and even more importantly a melancholy that certainly was showcased in your music.

And then he discovered the reason behind your excellent music.

‘… I am slowly going deaf’ you explained softly at the interviewer ‘… a problematic sickness from birth, and although I do know that playing an instrument request desperately a good ear, I don’t have the luxury of it, so I train the hardest to do my best’.

The fact that you had also a disability like him certainly made him reason why you played music so brilliantly and why he could understand it so well, although he hadn’t a single musical knowledge in his mind.

He could relate to your music.

And he fell asleep with one last song in his ears.

With all probability he was in for quite the horrid crush, one where he would have been left utterly broken on the ground, because he shouldn’t have crushed on somebody that had barely acknowledged him and was much more successful than him and that he wouldn’t have ever seen again.

But strangely… Destiny had a mysterious way of fooling us all.

The day after he had been sent by Aslaug outside for a few errands, mostly some at Floki’s shop, since he needed some new pieces for a new tech project and his mother preferred he went by myself, mostly because she wasn’t expert in that.

Floki worked mostly in the boat business, but he had actually opened a small technology shop to support himself when he couldn’t sail or when his boats had to be built, something that mostly his wife took care of, when he was with his boats.

He had been slumping in, having chosen a time where he knew the shop would be desert, entering inside quickly and greeting Helga with a soft smile, as the woman welcomed him warmly.

He passed her the list of what he needed and soon she disappeared in the back, to grab a few things that were in the magazine, suggesting that Ivar handled the shop in her absence, although not many clients would have come for sure, since it was lunch time and nobody…

… and then the door was opened.

And as if summoned by his mind, you walked in.

You didn’t wear the elegant dress you had worn at the musical event, but you still had some kind of grace in your ripped hoodie and giant sweatpants, evidently also not expecting to find anybody at the shop.

The whole concept was simply reinforced by the fact that you wore thick sunglasses.

And Ivar had a fanboy moment.

He honestly wished he could have come to you and congratulated with you, but not only it would have sounded creepy, but Ivar already had trouble with normal girls, think about the cute and talented musician, who made music that spoke to his soul…

He prayed Helga would be back, soon.

But then you quickly came to check out what you had gotten, a couple of batteries, your eyes moving awkwardly around yourself, not moving in any way to meet Ivar till he found himself doing the usual gestures of registering the purchase, since he knew how to do having worked there during the summer.

‘It’ll be 10, 99’ he found himself barely able to mutter, thankful for having basically memorized all the prices and avoiding to stutter and immediately gaining your attention, as your eyes, behind your sunglasses raised to meet Ivar’s.

He thought that you might have been shocked by the hefty price and was halfway through suggesting a cheaper type, although he was surprised you had money problems, but it wasn’t his job to judge…

“… excuse me can you repeat it pronouncing it slowly?” your voice was unsure a bit too high on some notes, clearly reminding Ivar of what he had heard on the interview, the fact that you had slowly been going deaf.

“Oh yeah, sorry!” he commented shyly, realizing a few minutes that he had rambled, but you simply smiled at him “… the price of the batteries is 10, 99”.

You nodded softly, getting your wallet out of your sweatpants.

“… sorry for the inconvenience…” your hands moved nervously in your pockets, probably because you were rushing to sign “… my stupid hearing aid device stopped working this morning, and apparently one can never pack too many batteries…”.

“Oh, don’t worry” ‘and please, for fuck’s sake, Ivar don’t mention that you admire her, she is in incognito mode and wouldn’t let to get recognized so make sure to stop your mind from speaking’…’ “… I am a fan of yours, actually”.

The fuck.

Thankfully you didn’t straight up run away, but instead a small smirk appeared on your face, as you pushed slightly down your glasses to show your eyes.

“… didn’t know that I had cute guys as my fans” you shot, making him blush as his eyes set up on the cash desk trying to remember the code, and his hands then moved to actually accept the money and give you back your change “… but it’s a nice discovery”.

He simply smirked tight-lipped, definitely trying not to say anything else.

But his mouth was too big for that.

And he was too stubborn even for himself.

“I was at the auditorium… my brother, Sigurd, you must know him… he plays at the school” ok Ivar, slow down your words and breath or you’ll pass out in front of her and it’ll be awkward “… I just… I think you are pretty amazing, I am not an expert, but…”.

“It’s always nice to have power of being able to convert people on the light side of music” you replied and he couldn’t help but appreciate the ‘Star Wars’ reference, showing definitely that you had much more than classic taste in your mind “… want to take a selfie together?”.

Ok, you must have totally thought him to be a crazy fan.

“… ah no, like no offense, but… I just…I am not the type” he muttered “… just wanted you to know that although I might sound creepy, I do feel like I can understand perfectly your music and I admire you a lot”.

Your smile became much more relaxed and genuine, almost as if you weren’t the magical musician, but simply a person talking with another.

Which is the way Ivar wanted people to treat him.

“… first of all, thank you for avoiding me the selfie, I am obviously in no shape for it” Ivar would have honestly disagreed, but again… just the strict necessary out “… and second of all, that is what I aim to do with my music and my story. I am glad it was inspiring”.

“It was” and although they were simple words, they were enough for him to express his utter emotion and you straight up smiled back at him, showing him that you had understood what he truly meant.

And in that moment, Helga appeared from the bag, just as he was handing her back her batteries, ready to wish her a good day and avoid thinking anymore about the fact that he had just met an amazing human being.

Helga looked confused but he simply explained that he was taking care of the cashier desk, the woman pushing what he had taken in a box, as if to leave the two youngsters a bit of privacy, and although Ivar’s soul was slowly readying himself for the ‘goodbye’s, you suddenly moved up and said:

“Do you happen to know a nice coffee shop in town? I have been here for three days and I haven’t been able to explore much”.

Now had it been said to any of his brothers, it would have been obvious you had meant to flirt.

But with Ivar…

… one might never know if it was out of pity.

Although he had to admit that she hadn’t seen his legs.

Which was a thing that he preferred to keep this way.

“… ahh there are a few ones, it mostly depends on how much you want to spend and what you prefer…”.

“There is ‘Princess Diana’ right down the road” commented tightly Helga, surprising them both, although you sent her a seraphic look of thankfulness.

“Oh right” added Ivar, not totally sending Helga an annoyed look, knowing that that coffee shop was his favorite for the vintage aesthetic and the enormous milkshakes, but knowing as well that his ‘aunt’ was trying to set him up with the pretty girl in front of him.

Who was way out of his league.

“… then I do think that I’ll pay it a visit but…” and your eyes twinkled over to Ivar “… would you mind accompanying me? I wouldn’t want to get lost!”.

It was obvious now that you were flirting with him.

Although Ivar saw no reason on why a talented and beautiful musician like you might be interested in a cripple like him.

A very rude cripple.

A very rude cripple who couldn’t take a hint.

“… ahem… I have to actually bring these things at home…” he tried the excuse, but Helga, who almost smacked his bum to make him reconsider his wording, moved to chip in sweetly.

“I can set them up on the side for Hvitserk to pick them up when he comes for a new videogame later this afternoon” she explained, as Ivar took in a quick look at the new pieces that he had chosen, insisting on at least paying, meanwhile you told him that you’d be waiting for him outside.

‘Gotta readjust the hearing aid’ you explained, with a bright smile that made Ivar blush.

And when you were gone, he turned to Helga, looking at her in her light eyes and uttering.

“I can’t do this” and then looking at the backdoor “… I need to escape”.

But right as he was moving for the door, Helga literally stopped him with her tiny but strong body.

“Ivar Lothbrock don’t make me slap you across the face” she reprimanded him, looking at him in the eyes to make him understand better what she was saying “… a cute guy that you obviously like, from that idiotic smile on your face, just asked you out and you won’t back off on my watch, understood?”.

“She literally doesn’t know me! And I don’t know her! She might be a psycho!” retorted Ivar, getting an eye-roll from Helga, who breathed out a loud huff “… and she is too much for me”.

“… that is something that she can solely decide” replied Helga, her tone quietening itself “… and you won’t ruin a chance simply for your own self-esteem issues, at least not on my watch, understood?”.

And he couldn’t help but nod.

Although inside he couldn’t help but want to riot completely.

And turn away and run.

But he managed to finally get out of the shop, with one last look at Helga, who held up both her thumbs.

Not reassuring at all.

But he still reached out to you, who had set down on the sidewalk, adjusting a small external hearing aid, in a way that told him that you were used to it as much as your braces.

The first thing that you noticed, as you turned around to him, coming to face with them.

He expected some comment about a problem having come up or probing for more info about them.

Once somebody had asked him if it was ‘infectious’.

But you surprised him again, getting up quickly, without sparing another look at his legs, making him almost confused, as he considered whether you would have run away or…

“… so, where is this ‘Princess Diana’?” you simply asked, a strange excitement coated with embarrassment in your eyes.

And maybe… just maybe he had the chance of making his own music, for once.

---

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Stupid Believer:

Just when I thought I was Running out of time The King stood trembling at my bedside

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

(Masterlist) (Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

I know that nobody reads this, but I just wanted to tell you two things:

1) THIS CHAPTER SUCK! (I mean... fluff and angst not mixed properly together+me overthinking everything...=utter shit) (so I am sorry, I hope the next one will be better!).

2) I might disappear a bit in the following days, because of personal reasons (related to tumblr and outside) so if I don’t reply/am very active, I am sorry, but I am doing what I think is best for myself.

As always: this series means so so much to me, so any feedback is more than welcome, everything starting from comments to reblogs, just LET ME NOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Feedback makes our fingers write faster and our heart beat faster!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Pushed up to confront your previous 'owners', you delve in the joys of marital bliss, although nothing seems to last truly. Innocence and dreams even less.

WORDS: 19 K

WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate, Blood and Period.

The ride on the chariot, this time, had been silent and although you weren’t sure, you had the sensation that Ivar went slower this time, almost as if he didn’t want to bring you there, as he held you against him, his own breath being uneven.

You thought about what English men wanted from you.

You almost dreaded the thought of being wanted back.

It made you feel like an object.

Nothing more than a vase to be traded.

The brothers had started off before you, to allow you the privacy to converse in peace and finish what they had interrupted, but Ivar hadn’t said anything, the intimacy you had owned a few moments before completely shredded to pieces, as he harshly suggested you adjusted your hair.

Strands of grass were in them, alongside the evident traces of Ivar’s kiss, since they had been evidently brushed up by Ivar’s bigger hands.

He still looked for your hand as you were finally ready to face the English warriors, and he had helped you again on the chariot, making sure to dust off the remaining of grass from your clothes as you did the same on his own.

You almost wanted to say comforting words, such as the ones you had saidion the small private piece of heaven, Ivar had offered you.

But this wasn’t the time.

And you couldn’t promise Ivar to stay if your father wanted you back.

You hoped it wasn’t what would have happened, since it would have certainly awakened the war you had been sold to finish.

Your father wouldn’t have been that stupid.

You hoped.

You met the English warriors at the border of the camp and you immediately recognized them as the border patrol unit, a rather smaller one in the English army, mostly travelling to make sure the borders and treaties were respected both by the heathen and both by the lords of England, that might use a moment of instability to gain more lands.

Like your father.

Gosh, he was quite clouding your mind, since you couldn’t help but feel like whatever was happening, he was for sure involved in it.

Nervousness flickered through you as Ivar beside you held his most unimpressed expression, something that made you uneasy, since this way he was quite difficult for you to understand him.

You wanted to hug him, since the feeling of his strong body was almost comforting to you, but it would have been highly inappropriate, even more now that you were faced with your own old motherland.

You quickly moved in front of the brothers, although Hvitserk, made sure to stand beside you on the side that Ivar didn’t occupy already, gently pushing an hand on your shoulder, as if he understood your uneasiness.

And then you were fully in front of your previous kinfolk.

And you didn’t recognize a single one of them, almost as if entire years had passed since you had started your new life in the Viking settlement.

It was better to get this over before nervousness got to you.

“I am princess (Y/N)” you screamed in order to be heard by the scouts, since a lengthy distance was between the two armies, with the Vikings seemingly ready to attack at any moment, meanwhile the Saxons looked quite fearful, even more because they weren’t in the slightest enough counterattack the heathens “… why have I been summoned, here?”.

Your words seemed more annoyed than you had intended them to be, but the memory of Ivar’s lips on yours was still recent, and the way his hand gently pressed its way in your arms, already made you missing of the intimacy you had shared.

No cunning thoughts or mischievous plans between you two.

You had expected a few soldiers of your father to appear, although none of them wore its emblem, but then the crowd of soldiers opened, revealing, finally, a familiar face.

A fair-haired boy walked in front of the army, his light grey eyes searching for something, till they set on you, as his steady body finally seemed to relax.

Alexander appeared in your full view, and for once since all this meeting had been announced, you were happy to see a Saxon face among them, as he moved closer to you, walking the lengthy distance between the two formations, till both Hvitserk and Ubbe stepped up to stop him.

Your arm immediately shot up to the younger brother, as you pushed him back lightly, even going as far as to pull his hair to catch his attention and you whispered in his ear that you knew him.

And Alexander’s eyes, now, spoke of a similar recognition.

And soon, his hands moved to do what his eyes spoke of, as he, after both the brothers had been reeled back, pushed you in his arms, lightly raising you off the ground, making you giggle.

He twirled you laughing of happiness, making you completely forget where you were.

And then when he set you down, you had forgotten all around yourself.

Not many people, back in the castle had been your friends, truly.

But Alexander had been your dearest friend.

And your first crush.

Although that ship had sailed and sunk long ago.

“… what are you doing, here?” you giggled softly, as you tried to adjust your hair behind your ears, meanwhile Alexander regarded your strange outfit of the day, something that made you blush, but you coughed lightly to bring his attention back to your question.

“We are actually here for you, (Y/N)” he spoke softly, before he straightened up his back, pushing himself in a more honorable position, as if he hadn’t just broken the entire castle etiquette, in hugging you in that way “… we are here to check on you, princess (Y/N)”.

“Why?” you were honestly surprised to discover the reason, mostly because it made you almost feel like you had done something wrong.

Was your father not happy of the little information you had given him?

Alexander lightly lowered his stance, almost conspiratorially.

“… we have heard news that you had been accused of having poisoned a prince and were facing a trial for that…” realization hit your face, as you lightly moved to turn your head back, recognizing among the many Viking faces Heahmund’s one, who looked honestly relieved at seeing the small Saxon army.

And then your eyes fell onto Ivar, as your head made to turn to Alexander.

His mouth was slightly agape, as his eyes held a brokenness in them that made you shift your whole attention to him, as you noticed that his hands had been left around in the position they were when he was holding onto you.

You immediately reached around, pushing one hand between you and your heart broke at the eagerness Ivar showed in taking it, before his face became again impossible to understand, as he shifted his eyes away from you, as if he hadn’t been bothered by your intimacy with Alexander a few minutes before.

“It isn’t anything too bad” you mumbled lightly in Norse “… he is a friend”.

He just grunted, and knowing that he wouldn’t hear any explanation, you turned heavily to Alexander, glad that Ivar’s hold on your hand was still a small link between you.

“… I was” shock appeared in Alexander’s eyes “… but it was all a plot against Ivar, all the accusations fell quickly yesterday and my life is alright, I am sorry you had to come here for nothing, my father must have been truly annoyed to have to send..”.

“It is not your father who sent us” your friend spoke and you were immediately surprised, shock written all over your face “… our God-blessed king Alfred asked us to check on you, to make sure that you were safe”.

“I am”.

You wanted all of this to cut itself quickly, since you could feel the tension between the two armies, because although they were in no one’s land, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be conquered.

“I’d like to make sure of it myself” spoke Alexander, as he grabbed on the hand that Ivar didn’t hold, making effectively the worst move possibly, because as he gripped forward, Ivar gripped you back to himself, effectively overpowering your friend.

And you cursed yourself for being stuck between two men.

“… my wife told you she is fine, Saxon, now go back to your lands” Ivar’s words were a veiled threat, and although you didn’t like his tone and sent him an harsh glare to remind him of his tone.

“I said I’d like to prove it myself” replied in an even more hissing tone, Alexander, holding himself as arrogantly as he could, something that always fascinated you, but right now, against Ivar’s sheer power, he looked like a boy who was challenging a man.

“And I do think that I have a saying in this” you surprised the two men, pipping in, as you broke away from both grips, meanwhile Hvitserk behind you giggled at the ridiculousness “… Alexander, has my tongue ever been anything less than truthful?”.

He shook his head at your reprimand as Ivar shook his head, already tasting victory, and you decided to take advantage of it, turning to him, as you joined your hands together.

Truly the portrait of the perfect couple.

“… I’ll walk with him to make sure that he comes back to the army, I won’t leave your view, don’t worry” you knew it sounded almost pathetic, but Ivar didn’t already seemed pleased to solely leave your hand “… it is a necessity that I show him that I am not hurt”.

“I would never hurt you” spoke tenderly Ivar, as his hand broke away from the hold of yours, lightly caressing your face to reinforce the concept, a gesture that made you smile softly, as you leaned in the simple touch “… he dishonor my land and men saying that”.

Why with men it was always about honor?

“… I know” you spoke softly “… but they don’t know it, so just let me show them that I am happy with you”.

The words seemed to hit him deeply.

But never as much as they hit with you.

Because they were the truth.

You had been happy with him.

Not always and sometimes he could be quite a pain in the ass, but…

… he made you smile.

“… I swear that nothing will happen” you promised “… I swear it on the crown”.

That seemed to get to Ivar, whose tense expression disappeared in a smirk, as his other hand went to your waist, something that made you breathe out at his boldness.

“… are you using my ideas against me?” he commented with that insane arrogance, that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t you have liked to be still there in your own private heaven, on top of him, tasting him as he explored your body.

And at the same time, shame brought a slight blush all over your body, starting from your neck and pushing itself on your cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to be your smart wife?” you retorted, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“… that’s more like cunning” he replied, before he brought your hand to his lips, a mark of possessiveness in his reply that made you smirk softly “… walk him back and tell them to leave”.

You nodded, as you turned to Alexander, who tried and failed to hide his confusion, and you suddenly noticed that you had spoken in Norse, without even noticing it with Ivar.

“… let’s go, my proud knight” you commented offering him his arm, as both Hvitserk and Ubbe were told to back off by Ivar, who turned his back to you, going back to his cart, meanwhile his brothers trailed after him, something mischievous in Hvitserk’s eyes.

You were glad you didn’t have to deal with his annoying questions.

Alexander took your arm, almost as if he didn’t believe it fully and gently started walking, at a slower pace than your own.

You kept in silence, till you were a bit away from heathens and then Alexander moved to talk, finally:

“Is it true that you aren’t in danger, anymore?” he asked “… Heahmund sent a letter and your sister Kathleen received it…”.

That explained the urgency and fear in Alexander’s arrival at the camp.

Gosh, it made you miss Kathleen.

With all the turn of events and the need to desperately win Ivar over, you hadn’t thought much about the love you had for your sister.

The loyalty that bound all of you.

“… and she convinced king Alfred to send a dispatch of border soldiers to check on you” Alexander continued to explain, as a small smirk appeared on your face.

“How did Kathleen manage to convince father and him?” you asked, honestly surprised, because although you knew that your sister Kathleen could drag the Devil away from his throne, you didn’t know how much a man like king Alfred might be pushed to agree on such a deal.

It made you wonder what was going on in the castle, during your absence.

“… it’s Kathleen” he commented tightly, shooting you a look as if to say ‘you know how she is’ “… she never wanted to play Guinevere’s parts when we played ‘The Legend of Arthur’, insisting she’d make a dashing Lancilot”.

“That she did”.

And that had always let Abigail be Guinever, meanwhile you were the witch Morgan, always being fascinated with such creatures, since it had made you feel powerful in your own way.

You had never been as strong as Kathleen or as cunning as Abigail, so to have magical powers…

… it had been a dream from you.

Imagination had been your sole weapon against your dull reality.

Alexander was the son of one of your father’s lords, a smaller one, cursed by the fact that that he was the second male child, hence he wouldn’t inherit much, unless he forged his own Destiny.

He would have been the least adapt match for you, according to your father.

But that had only invigorated the love that you had felt for him.

Although right now, with the knowledge of past facts, you knew it wasn’t anything more than an infatuation.

It was puppy love: you had always admired the strength of Alexander, the way he was so bright and funny, in a way that charmed anybody who had ever come upon his path.

But you had soon discovered that you weren’t the sole one charmed by him.

You had once caught him with one of the kitchen servants, and that had been the end of your first ever love story.

You had been heartbroken, mostly when he always promised you to run away with you, away from your father and his cruelty to be his own Guinevere.

But that had never happened.

And your dreams had been shattered.

From then on it had been simply a good friendship between you, although you hadn’t had much time to spend together since he had been enrolled against the heathens, even going as far as being sent to Ireland in some scouting missions, so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time.

Your mind had been quite troubled lately so the thought of him hadn’t crossed your mind, even more since your love for him had become a more tender affection.

“… and you are safe, aren’t you?” he asked, as he gently made you to turn around to face him “… they don’t mistreat you, do they?”.

“They don’t” you commented as you breathed out, trying to keep yourself the absolute calmest “… they have been welcoming, if you don’t count the fact that I was involved in a ploy to belittle Ivar”.

“You call him Ivar?” almost disbelief spoke in his eyes as you said that.

“What should I call him?” you shot back “… I do call him ‘husband’, if you are curious”.

“I am just…” he seemed at lack of words at your reply “… and you have even learned Norse, I just… feel like…”.

“I did what I had to do to survive” you commented, a flare of anger appearing in your eyes at Alexander’s questions, which reminded you of Heahmund, alongside the accusation hid behind them.

That you had turned away from the rightful way to the heathen’s one.

“That is right” Alexander commented, his uneasiness finally calming, as he moved to softly grab onto one of your hands “… I am sorry I wasn’t able to stop this from happening, you didn’t deserve it”.

“… you didn’t know, and you couldn’t have done much, knowing my father” you replied lowly, as you gripped back onto his hand, gently rubbing your thumb on the back of it “… I am actually surprised that you are here, I thought you were in Ireland, during your own scouting duties”.

“Alwin died” he replied and finally his eyes became darker with grief and you weren’t able to stop surprise from appearing on his face, at the news that Alexander’s older brother and heir to his father’s lands had died “… fighting against the heathens, although father didn’t want him to”.

“My condolences to you and your father” you spoke, measuring your words.

Although Alexander and Alwin had never been truly tight-knit brothers, always in competition for their father’s attention, you knew that it must have destroyed him to have that news, even more when his eyes showed the guilt of not having been able to protect his brother.

You understood him all too well.

“Father then had me coming back, although I told him I’d still be in the scouting legion, even more when I discovered what had happened to you” his eyes spoke of a true pain at the knowledge of what had befell on you, and you smiled trying to reassure him.

“… although this isn’t my ideal life, they treat me well, I swear it on the Holy Virgin” you promised him softly “… they haven’t ever hit me and Ivar…”.

‘… and Ivar kisses me like I am the only woman in the whole world for him’.

Your cheeks reddened at that thought.

“… he is gentle with me”.

Alexander didn’t look convinced and you knew that you hadn’t much time or options to convince him.

“… just give me more time” he suggested softly, as he pleaded to you, grabbing your hands with the same gesture Ivar had done not too long ago, and his deep grey eyes faced you, surprising you even further when he lowered himself on his knees “… please, my brave gentle princess, accord more time to me, so that I can let your sister know that you are safe and sound”.

Although the entire set-up was almost comical, this might have been quite the problem, because Ivar had clearly shown up that he didn’t like in the slightest the thought of Saxon men on his borders, but at the same time Alexander was stubborn.

You knew it all too well.

“Settle up for the night, I’ll talk with my husband” you pointed out the last word, as Alexander nodded eagerly, bringing your hand to his lips, and although you blushed at the silly gesture you couldn’t help but feel hollow from the small crush you had felt before.

“… you are an angel, princess”.

“I better be, because I’ll need a miracle to convince Ivar”.

---

“This is an insult!” in fact screamed Ivar, as you and his brothers held a private council in the main hall.

You had informed Ivar of everything on the chariot and although his focus hadn’t left for a single moment the control of the horse, he had stilled underneath you.

He was actively avoiding to let his anger feast on you, but he was bitter and he wouldn’t have had such a dishonoring command over himself.

“… and the people won’t have it” added Ubbe, sending you a small look as if to say ‘it is all your fault’, something that made you turn a bright smile at him, as you adjusted in the chair next to Ivar.

“I know” you commented, trying to calm all the souls around you “… but also the Saxons wouldn’t have left, if I hadn’t promised to try to let them stay and see me”.

“We can fight them” commented Hvitserk, drinking heavily from his horn, as you sent him an unbelieving glare, but immediately Bjorn backed him up, indeed reminding you that the Vikings had a completely different mindset from the Saxons.

And you were stuck between them, trying to find an agreement,

“You might, but it would destroy the peace my marriage sealed” and you sent a pleading look to Ivar, whose eyes still kept away from you, making you damnably nervous “… and you might defeat a scouting legion, but it’ll just put you to risk”.

“People will question this decision” Ivar simply commented, as he sent you a small look as if to ask you whether you realized the chaos that would ensue by your decision.

“… and you aren’t exactly popular among them” replied tightly Ubbe, something that this time got him a harsh look from you, as Ivar said a quick ‘don’t talk like that to my wife’.

It made you dizzy, to know that he defended you like that.

“… it isn’t exactly my fault for that” you commented “… but we could use the celebrations as an excuse: we invited the Saxons over to show them our victory over them, hiding this behind the semblance of a peaceful negotiation”.

The brothers didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, although they agreed begrudgingly, knowing that neither the opponents would have backed down and this was the best option for both.

“It isn’t enough” mumbled Ivar darkly, as he shot you a small look “… we don’t gain anything from this, and nobody of our warriors will celebrate next to some Saxon”.

“Then say that it is for an agreement for new lands” Ivar looked at you confused “… I have some lands to my name from my mother’s side, exclusively, say I have given them to you as a wedding gift and the Saxons are here to ensure the sanctity and rightfulness of the agreement”.

Your mother had bounded, before dying, some lands to your and your sisters’ names exclusively, to ensure that no matter what befell you, you’d have something for your dowry or to survive.

The question of these lands had annoyed your father, because he couldn’t have them and neither he could have used them as his own, as they were exclusively yours and they could be controlled solely by you, when you had come of age or married.

They weren’t as big as your actual dowry, but without a doubt they could have seemed quite the deal for Ivar, who simply looked at you surprised at that revelation, risking of choking on his ale, but he immediately composed back, agreeing to this with a tight nod.

“… then send the message that the Saxons are staying simply for that” he announced to his brothers, and you could see a similar grimace appear on both Bjorn’s and Ubbe’s faces.

They didn’t like that their younger brother chose for them.

But they didn’t say much, excusing themselves to spread the news, meanwhile Hvitserk stood in the room, painfully unwanted, till Ivar told himself to wait for you outside.

He had to exchange a few words with you privately and then Hvitserk would accompany you back to your tent, in order for you to write a letter to the Saxons, alongside talking with Heahmund, something that you didn’t tell Ivar, although it was high on your list of things to do.

Hvitserk trotted back, quickly, although he shot you a light smirk, as if he knew what you meant to do in your free time, and you weren’t able to stop the slight blush from appearing on your face.

Ivar did share a bit of red also on his cheeks, but his eyes were sharp till Hvitserk moved away, and then they settled on you, extremely tame with their thoughts making them appear like a storm, held back solely by wind.

“… I won’t take your lands” it was a bare answer, a whisper of indeed a storm that was starting, and you felt shaken to your very core by that revelation.

“What?”.

Any man would have seized all your belongings without a second thought or even asking you for your opinion, something that you personally found barbaric to say the least.

It was how court and wives worked.

It was how life had always worked.

Women were just the means to gain more lands and properties.

“… your lands will stay yours” he promised “… I’ll give them back to you as a wedding gift”.

“There is no need…” you started, but Ivar’s eyes shut you up quickly, as a hand of his went to thread itself in your hair, making you look up at him.

“They are your mother’s, aren’t they?” he searched your eyes for the truth, but you still nodded to assert it “… then they’ll never belong to me”.

“Thank you” you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture that made you smirk softly, as you joined your hand with Ivar’s, gently bringing it to your lips, as the boy in front of you smiled softly.

“… and I have no interest in lands in England” he commented, trying to move away the attention from the gentleness he had showed “… Kattegat is my home”.

And soon it would have been yours too.

---

You adjusted yourself on the chair to the table you had been sat on for the previous half an hour, the letter meant for Alexander half-written, as you played around with the tip of the feather you were writing with, constantly annoyed by Angelika, who stood on your bed.

The handmaidens had all been excused, once you had arrived back in the tent, except for Turid who had been sent to retrieve and give an hour to bishop Heahmund, in order for you to meet up and tell him what would have been happening next.

What had happened now that you knew where his loyalties laid.

You also wanted to reinstate your strength and power over him, since he had seemed to forget about it.

As much as you damnably appreciated his attempt in helping you, the fact that he had sent a letter for your father without helping you or contacting you first, showed much of the true purpose of his staying beside you.

Something that you couldn’t have when you were stuck in the Viking settlements solely with him as your ally.

“… so, was you day with prince Ivar good?” Angelika asked you as you were rereading the last line you had written, almost throwing the feather out of your hands at the boldness of your handmaiden.

“None of your business” you replied, sharply, trying to focus again your attention on the letter, but Angelika smirked like a feline who knew that had hit a sore spot.

“… oh c’mon… don’t you want to tell me all the lovely moments you shared?” she continued on poking on you “… is he even able of some romance?”.

“Why isn’t Lia or Arabella here?” you wondered, raising your eyes up to the sky, annoyedly, although you were almost tempted to confess her the way you had felt for Ivar.

You had never had friends to who you could confess your own emotion and thoughts.

Your father’s court was a nest of snakes.

You had learnt early not to trust anybody with most of your thoughts.

You had grown up guarded, except with your sisters.

And without them you found yourself uneasy, both because you couldn’t talk with anybody about how you felt and both because the sole thought of confessing everything that was going through your mind tempted you and hurt you at the same time.

“… they are at training” she explained, although that annoying smirk didn’t leave her face.

“Why aren’t you there with them?” you commented, spitting the same softened venom you used for her.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt myself” she shot back tightly, and then she moved to highlight her face “… I wouldn’t want to ruin the only precious thing I own”.

“Dashing” you muttered, but it was only partially venomous, since you couldn’t help but notice the sad truth in her words: women truly didn’t own much but their beauty in this sick world “… it was nice… with prince Ivar”.

Her eyes caught fire at that small affirmation.

“Did you kiss him?”.

Now you were burning red hot and the letter was forgotten on your desk, and you turned quickly to her, definitely giving her the answer she was looking for and with a very ungraceful movement, she fell with her back on the side of your bed, laughing loudly.

“Oh Gosh! You kissed the heathen!”.

“Lower your voice, Angelika” you ordered her, although it was more an ashamed shriek, as the handmaiden didn’t even try to shut her sharp mouth “Somebody will hear!”.

“As if kissing your husband was something to be ashamed …” commented the same girl who had called your husband a ‘monster’ “… unless he is a bad kisser that is”.

Your cheeks reddened further and Angelika sent you a look as if to ask if she had guessed right, but you just shook your head, leaving your chair and your letter, since your head didn’t seem to have any idea on how to continue, your mind taken back to what it had felt with Ivar.

The gentleness and the respect his exploration had given you, as he softly took your lips in his, in a soft pressure that almost made you taste heaven.

And yet that same kiss opened the doors of hell beneath you.

But had you ever cared for that?

“… he is very good” you commented, not knowing fully why your lips were felt so loose all of a sudden “… but… I am not… as versed as him…”.

“… why doesn’t that surprise me?” replied the other girl, before she made you fall with a quick grab on your waist, so that you were at them same level, something that made you extremely nervous, never having been this close to another girl that wasn’t blood-related with you.

And after Caryn’s betrayal, the proximity hurt you even more.

But Angelika’s eyes were captivating and soon the embarrassment slowly eased up.

“… I could teach you” now they held the same wickedness of a big cat “… we could practice together”.

The suggestion made you redden significatively and you threw her a shocked expression, immediately raising yourself up, as she erupted in laughter.

And although you knew she was teasing you, it wasn’t insulting.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but no” you commented tightly, as you adjusted yourself, in a seated position, right when Turid opened the tent to check in whether you were comfortable to talk with Heahmund.

You blushed but nodded, excusing Angelika off, as you adjusted your hair, already knowing that your outfit of the day would have shocked enough the bishop, since you hadn’t changed from the outfit you had worn for your walk with Ivar.

Angelika moved annoyedly away, meanwhile Turid pushed Heahmund in, taking her leave, alongside Angelika, although her eyes shone of wickedness and you weren’t sure about whether she’d just leave, or she’d spy onto the conversation.

“… it is good to see you safe and sound” commented tightly the bishop, as he immediately came to you, kneeling before you and kissing your hand as a sign of respect, but you kept your eyes tight on him, steely and royally pissed “… I have heard that the scouting army came to check on you, my lady…”.

“Thank to you” it was a sarcastic mutter, and Heahmund soon noticed it, raising his head, to finally notice your bad humor.

“You aren’t happy with my actions, princess” his voice was almost a reprimand in itself and you held his glare, as you pushed out your breath, straightening your back.

“… not in the slightest, bishop” you replied, hissing through your teeth, something of your stance taking after the postures you had seen in Ivar “… you called my father, before even trying to help me”.

“I wouldn’t have done it, had I had any other choice!” he protested “… the Vikings wouldn’t let me see you and neither hear me, and let me tell you I couldn’t think of any other choice than to ask your father”.

Although you absolutely recognized Heahmund’s reasonings, his act had damaged you greatly, almost making you risk your life again.

Had he been truly worried for you, he’d have asked anybody but your father, since it was instead clear that his letter hadn’t been a scream of help for your own health, but a worry for your purpose in the settlements.

And it hurt you, although you knew that to your father and him you didn’t matter much more than for what you could give to them both.

“… next time you have to send a letter to my father, you’ll ask me or my handmaidens before” your voice this time didn’t ask for any replies, as it became steely rigid and strong “… and from now on if I ever catch on any information I’ll be the one to send you letters, there will be no need for you to come here”.

Heahmund’s eyes spoke of his complete humiliation at those orders followed by a blinding rage, but he simply nodded, bowing and taking his leave without being excluded.

“Bishop Heahmund” you called him one last time “… my father might not care the destiny that befell me, but let me tell you that I am much more influential than my position might let you think. For now, I have the strength to make this mission end well or badly, and I won’t undervalue it”.

“Understood” that was what you wanted to hear, and you excused him, dropping on the bed, as you had done with Angelika, feeling a series of emotion that made you almost nauseous for the various shifting they did in your mind.

You had always known that your life mattered little in your father’s hands, but you hadn’t thought it was that little, enough that you weren’t in charge of your own decision.

And that if you had overstepped your boundaries, your father would have gladly left you to die.

It hadn’t passed unnoticed to you that Alexander had said that it had been Alfred who had sent the army, because of Kathleen’s talks.

You already knew that your father didn’t care for you, even more for the shame you would have brought on his line, getting caught so early, before you could be truly useful.

He wouldn’t have taken you back, ever, now that you were tainted.

You knew that if you didn’t die on this mission by Ivar or his men’s hands, you father would have taken the thing in his own hands.

And had he ever taken pity on you, he wouldn’t have allowed much more than a shed in the wood, with no help except yourself to witness your slow death.

You had never thought that your Destiny would have been so horrible.

But now all the signs showed that no matter the momentary peace you were having, you would have had an unhappy ending.

You had been too busy with making Ivar like you at first and then protecting your own ass, but now that you thought about it, it just…

… it made you feel hollow.

Not because you were scared of death.

In death you would have found your mother again, and you would have been free from the pain of your earthly body.

But did your life matter so little truly?

A few weeks ago you thought that your life did matter so little, since in the end there wasn’t much you could bring to the table, still now you found it difficult to find yourself worthy of your title and life.

But Ivar’s words spoke to your mind, alongside the small goals you had accomplished in the camp, defeating Halfdan and Harald, creating your own court and making yourself known, as you spied on it.

You were training, your body was becoming stronger and you had found yourself being smart enough to find a solution, to talk with Ivar and be appreciated by him, because although he might not have felt love for you, he clearly admired your ways.

You could have allied with Ivar to avoid such a pitiful ending.

You could have confessed what you had been obliged to do, hoping in his anger he might see the advantage of having you by your side, although you couldn’t offer much more than your brain and your pretty face.

But what would have been of your sisters?

They would have been left to rot, maybe your father would have killed Abigail, since she wasn’t useful to him or his heir.

And you wouldn’t have survived it.

One thing was to play with your life, another was to play with your sisters’.

“… are you alright?” you were brought back by your awful thought by Hvitserk, as you immediately pushed yourself in a seated position, trying to shift away a grimace from your face as he walked in “… did the priest annoy you? Ivar will have him killed…”.

“That’d be a relief” you commented darkly, surprising the ever-cheerful Hvitserk, but then a pure look of focus fell onto his face “… I was joking”.

“Just give me the order, princess”.

“… I won’t forget it” you smiled at him sadly, as you got up, thinking that if you had spent more time with this situation on your mind, you would have probably ended up with your head growing as big as an oak.

It was better to train a bit to release the feeling of dreariness your heart held at the moment, ignoring the unfinished letter, since you didn’t know anymore what words to find.

“… did you and my brother fight?” he asked, trying to urge you in talking, seeing that you were quite unresponsive “… because I thought you looked pretty cozy back then, in the field…”.

You blushed red till even your ears were of that color.

“No, we didn’t fight…”.

“Then did you kiss?” now you were going to surely pass out from your overheated cheeks, since you couldn’t help but be embarrassed as you remembered the notion of having been caught in such a compromising position.

“… why is everyone so obsessed with knowing the details of my private life?” you muttered loudly, sending Hvitserk a pointed look, but he, exactly like Angelika didn’t back down.

“Oh please” pleaded Hvitserk, pushing his hands in a mocking pleading pose “… pretty please (Y/N) give me something to tease my brother with”.

“You won’t find an ally in me for annoying your brother” you retorted, with a tight smirk, as you pushed him lightly away, gaining a gleaming look from Hvitserk.

“… oh, pretty please, my princess” he insisted making you huff out loudly.

“Annoy your brother and not me” you simply finished the conversation, although you couldn’t help but be feel yourself a bit calmer.

But those horrible thoughts you continued on having quite the influence on you, hanging on your head like a Damocles’ sword.

“… then at least let me know when you and Angelika will practice kissing”.

You couldn’t help but be shocked by this confession, even more as you realized what Hvitserk had to do to hear those words.

He had listened on your conversation.

“… did you…” your voice choked in worry, and you tried to shove it down “… did you overhear what I was talking about with Angelika?”.

Hvitserk seemed to feel your uneasiness and quickly pushed up his hands as if to defend himself.

“… I just was by the tent” he commented tightly “… I left before the priest entered, wouldn’t want to ruin the secret of your confession?”.

A tight grimace was welcomed by a blanker expression, as you tried to calm yourself down, glad that he hadn’t heard of your talking with Heahmund.

“Don’t listen on any of my conversation” you replied biting your lips, as you pointed out each word “… because if you do, I’ll put poison ivy in your bed”.

“Oh, I am used to it, it won’t affect me anymore” he grinned wickedly, but you had another idea, as you raised up from the bed, knowing perfectly that Hvitserk would follow, as you exited the tent.

“Then I’ll curse you” your words were light and easy, unlike his meaning.

And Hvitserk’s grin dropped quickly.

“… how… how would you do that?” he asked, as you simply moved forward, and he kept on running after you till the stable, meanwhile you muttered something in Latin.

‘Rosa, rosae, rosae…’.

And he simply looked at you with worried eyes.

“… what was that?”.

“Just a little warning” you commented, getting Bukefalos out of his stables.

“… you are joking, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”.

But you ignored him, and before you knew it you heard him cursing loudly as he accidentally pressed his boot in horse shit.

Sometimes curses didn’t have to be real to work.

---

Training with Nanna had destroyed you and as you had been forced to attend dinner in the main hall, you had almost fallen asleep with your head in the soup.

Nanna had insisted on training double, since you hadn’t attended the previous lesson, something that left you breathless and tired, even more since you had been forced to move from the defense to attack stances, something that made you uneasy, to say the least.

You didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest using violence against anybody, because not only being attacked reminded you of your father, but knowing how to kill wouldn’t have made you similar to that man you dreaded the absolute most?

‘Why do I have to learn how to attack others?’ you had muttered to Nanna, as the woman tried to teach you how to properly punch somebody, reminding you of taking the thumb out of the fist.

She had seemed to almost take personal offense to that.

‘… how do you expect to maintain your throne if you don’t fight’.

You had explained to her, that you had your own throne set up and you hadn’t much to worry, although all your thoughts of the previous afternoon weren’t comforting in the slightest.

‘… you should actually worry about your throne, even more with an husband like that’ her comment about Ivar had appeared bitter and you had tried your best to nod your head softly, taking in what looked like interesting information ‘… Ivar wants the crown’.

‘He already has it’ you had mumbled ‘… he is a prince, with numerous victories and conquered lands on his part’.

‘… and he wants more’ she had simply replied, her lips turning in a bitter expression ‘… he wants the crown of Kattegat, which Lagertha, the current queen of Kattegars, his father’s land, is withholding away from him, and believe me, he’ll fight for it and you’ll have too’.

You hadn’t replied anything anymore, although the knowledge of Ivar’s plans didn’t make you in any way more comfortable or less at uneasy about this entire day, and you almost wished it’d just be over soon.

But it certainly all explained why the brothers’ relationships were so tense among them.

And why Ivar had called you ‘queen’.

You felt him nudging you lightly, as you stood with the spoon so close and yet so far away from your mouth, stopped midair.

You quickly pushed the soup in your mouth, grimacing at the fact that the soup had grown cold, but forcing a few more bites of it on your mouth, because although you weren’t hungry, your body needed some food.

“… want me to feed you” commented Ivar, with a smirk on his face as he drunk a cup of ale, meanwhile you sent him a light glare, through your hooded eyes, pushing a final spoon past your lips, keeping it there, as you sleepily looked for a small towel to clean your face “… it has been a tough day, we’ll go to sleep, as soon as you are done with food”.

“Can you pass me your crutch? I might need it to go back” you mumbled, as you leaned lightly on him, for the simple fact that he was damnably warm and you were lightly cold from the bath you had done before coming there, your hair lightly damp, but pushed in a soft updo to dry them faster.

“… you certainly didn’t lose your humor alongside your appetite” he laughed, before he took in your hand to help you up, excusing you and him from his brothers, who barely sent him a look, except Hvitserk who told him that ‘he shouldn’t work you so hard’ and ‘he should give you a break’, in a way that seemed to reference to something that you and Ivar had never done together.

“… Hvitserk, want anymore horseshit?” you mumbled, unable to withhold any curtesy, something that got to Hvitserk quickly as he sat back down, meanwhile you felt Ivar hide a small smirk behind his hand.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, as you slumped next to each other, your handmaidens welcoming you inside, and you dismissed them, giving them some orders for tomorrow, as you felt a strange agitation brewing among them since, the following day, you were supposed to be choosing a dress for the party that was to be held in three days.

The girls had been told that they could have chosen a dress each in order to properly take part to the celebrations, and they had been thrilling happily for the whole afternoon, and you doubted they’d be able to sleep, too excited for the dresses.

Unlike you.

You unfastened Ivar’s braces, noticing that although he had humored you back at the dinner table, he now seemed almost distant to you, and you didn’t know if he was simply tired or there was something more.

But at the same time, deep down, you knew that with Ivar there was something more.

He was already in bed, when you finished brushing your hair and you were in your nightgown, dragging your heavy limbs towards the bed, as you sat on its end, being able to face Ivar, who looked extremely surprised by your position.

“Is anything wrong?” you thought about asking, although Ivar simply shook his head “… is it… is it for Alexander?”.

You had hit straight up in the bullseye, with the way his eyes shone of true annoyance.

“… we are solely friends” you commented “… I was a lonely child and he was the only one who indulged in silly games”.

Still silence, and you thought that if it had to go on like this, you had to drop the big news.

“… and I did have a slight infatuation on him, back then”.

This got to him, finally.

He simply moved to push himself in a seated position.

“… do you still like him?” it was a demand that made you laugh, as Ivar looked at you extremely serious.

“As a friend, but nothing more than that” you simply stated “… I… was a gullible girl, back then… and he was so handsome…”.

“I am not interested in hearing it” he commented with a rather sour tone, and you couldn’t help but smirk lightly, as you moved to settle closer to him, till you were eye-to-eye.

He tried to push himself away, but you held him in place.

“… it wasn’t love, it was a simple crush” you explained “… he broke my heart and I realized how hollow my feelings for him truly were. And from then on, it was only friendship from me”.

Ivar’s gaze seemed to lightly calm itself, although he didn’t look convinced.

“You have nothing to fear, truly”.

“Yeah, the cripple has for sure nothing to fear” he commented grumpily and you brought him instead to look at you in the face, not wanting this to push something between you, when you were so close with him.

Your life was a mess and strangely that blue-eyed heathen was the only relief you had been getting, lately.

The only good thing.

And this close, you wanted to kiss him.

Again, and again.

“… if it makes your ego feel better, I found you more handsome than Alexander” you confessed, as you gently moved an hand on his partially unbuttoned tunic, gently nearing the naked skin, as you felt Ivar take a sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t make fun of me” he commented loudly, making to turn around, but you stopped him and you made him look at you in the eyes.

“… I don’t” you muttered “… from the moment I saw you, I just found myself fascinated with you”.

He blushed, although he didn’t look convinced.

“I now love Alexander, with the same intensity I love Hvitserk, so you shouldn’t worry” you adjusted yourself to slip under the cover, moving closer to Ivar to make him avoid pushing you away “… there isn’t anything you should be worried about”.

“… because you are so enamored with me” he uttered sarcastically, and although you knew that it was damnably wrong both for your beliefs and both for the fact that you would have to betray him, you were starting to slowly feel something for him.

“I am starting to be…” you admitted, and you knew that any disbelief Ivar had pushed itself away, at your tender expression, something that you wouldn’t have been able to fake.

Gently a hand of his threaded its way through your hair, as he brought you closer, pressing softly your lips against his, something that made smile brightly, as you embraced him loosely.

If this life of yours would end up in a painful way, you’d enjoy all the pleasure you found.

That tender kiss was followed by a few more, till you were comfortably snuggled in Ivar’s arms, as you giggled at his bold gestures, eventually settling on a kiss to your forehead, insisting you both fell asleep, before it was too late.

But your body ached for more, definitely awake.

“… but seriously Ivar, I don’t… I don’t feel bad for you, and this isn’t pity” you muttered, tantalizing brushing your lips together, as he tightened his grip on your hair “… you are… different that is right, but you aren’t… you are more than anybody else because of that, I am sure, I swear it on the crown”.

He looked at you intensely and again you couldn’t understand what was going through his head, but you knew you had to say it.

The knowledge of your imminent death suddenly making you bold.

“… you are starting to blabber silly things, wife, you must be truly tired” he commented, but his eyes shone of true thankfulness, as he kissed your nose, tickling you softly, as he brought you closer, almost as if you were his own pillow “… go to sleep, lovely”.

“I like it when you call me that” you softly muttered, but closed your eyes and sleep took you over.

---

You slept comfortably, although it wasn’t anything more than an endless slumber, black but relaxing.

Your limbs felt as heavy as iron, and as you moved on your side to find a more comfortable pose, grimacing at the pain that shot from a small hit you had received the previous day, meanwhile you were training with Lia.

The handmaiden had tried to apologize, but you had simply complimented her on her strong right hook, making her laugh awkwardly, as she checked your face for any improper reply.

You felt Ivar matching your movements, bringing you back to his chest, as he softly moved you closer, making you smirk.

A week before he had been so cold with you, enough to make you feel at great unease, but now…

… he was cuddling you closer, as if you were of extreme value.

“… would you mind staying still?” he commented, making you well aware that he had woken up at the same time you had turned around, his grouchy voice making you rub unconsciously your legs together.

“It is late” you commented, seeing the sun pouring up through the thick veils of your tent, but what made you aware that you had both overslept was the fact that you could hear the life of the settlement moving up all around you.

Something that you strangely found familiar.

“… don’t you have some mischievous plan to plot?” you teased Ivar, feeling him growl annoyedly at your comment, as he turned on his back.

“You are devious” he lightly pinched your side, making you elbow him right back, although you laughed loudly “… and I do have things to do, but I don’t… I don’t want to get up”.

The confession made your body tremble lightly, because it felt truly heartfelt.

You knew that Ivar had some kind of infatuation with you or with at least the artificial version of you he had in his mind.

And you had survived for that, among the Vikings.

But his latest comment felt damnably true, as if both your feelings for each other were becoming… real.

And it almost scared you.

“… me neither” you mumbled, as his head shot to you, surprised by your own admission, finally bringing you closer as you felt the cleavage of your nightgown slide down and the part on your legs riding up “… but if I don’t bring my handmaidens to Hilde, this morning, they’ll organize a conspiracy against me”.

“I doubt it” protested Ivar loudly, pushing himself softly onto you, to physically prevent you from raising yourself “… they are all enamored with you”.

“Uh uh” you nodded lightly, as your eyes twinkled lightly “… I can actually think of a few people that don’t want me here”.

His eyes became sharp, as you commented that, a threat in them.

Not against you.

But against anybody who had dared hurting you.

Part of you almost wanted to confess him the pain your father had made you undergo, alongside the one that would happen when all of this was over.

Because you knew that he’d shelter you form that.

“… you are very much wanted here” he breathed on your lips, as he lightly pushed your hair away from your face, with a delicateness that made you blush, as you leaned in his hand “... please stay this morning in bed”.

“I can’t” you bit your lips, feeling like it was a true ache to your chest.

But you knew that you couldn’t indulge any longer.

You had to finish the letter to send to Alexander before lunch time, since you had asked him to join you for lunch and you had to go to Hilde, since she had already sent you a small note to let you know that she had a dress for you.

The fact that you hadn’t asked one made you a bit confused by the request of the tailor, but you loved deeply the creations she had gotten for you, hence you couldn’t deny her.

“… what if I made you stay” and then he was on top of you, a pleasurable oppression, that made you laugh, as his hands went to tickle your side, a playful side of him coming out as you tried to kick him away, completely exiting the fight disheveled, but victorious, once you put one of your cold feet on his chest.

“I won’t tell anybody that I won” you promised him with a teasing smirk on your face, as you finally managed to slip away from his hold, although you had to admit that it was definitely less warm than Ivar’s arms, who simply pouted at you.

“… I let you win” he stated, with a stubborn look, as you simply showed him your tongue, making him crack a laugh “… ok ok, I’ll let you go, but give me a kiss first”.

“Say ‘please’ ” it was almost natural, the banter between you, and Ivar shot you a quick look, before he added:

“… give me a kiss, please” and you did.

You leaned in, being the first one that initiated the kiss between you, and it was tender, as Ivar this time was mindful of his tongue, preferring to suck on your upper lip and then bottom one, before you tried something, something that you had solely read about: you bit his lower lip, dragging it through your teeth, as you moved away from the kiss.

Ivar growled and soon he was yanking on your hands, not delicately in the slightest, but you found yourself not caring at all, when he returned the favor, biting you back, although his hold didn’t bruise, but it certainly made you moan softly.

And then he was away from you, your own punishment for having chastised him away quickly this morning, having denied him.

“… don’t you have somewhere to be?” he teased you, as you shot him annoyed look, but eventually moved out of the bed.

“You are impossible” you retorted, but before you turned completely, you saw the way his eyes flickered with interest for you.

“Don’t spend your entire dowry my wife” he commented, staying in bed like a playful cat, as he stared up at you.

“Fear not, husband” you replied tightly, as you moved to the chair in front of your private desk, brushing away your hair, and you adjusted back the few jewels you had started wearing, gently opening the tent to tell the awaiting handmaidens, Arabella and Angelika, that morning, to wait a few more minutes, giving Ivar the chance to hide in his private alcove, and set himself up.

You got ready quickly almost on your own, since you hadn’t chosen a particularly complex dress, knowing that you’d have to try another one on, so you settled for a simple cream-colored gown, with golden accents, but nothing that was too tight.

Although the fabric was rich, since you had to meet up with Alexander, having finished the letter, meanwhile Angelika adjusted your hair (she was strangely good at it) and Arabella made you choose which essence to wear on your skin, it wasn’t one of your most luxurious dress.

You had pushed it into Arabella’s hands, assuring her to give it to one of the guards for Alexander, hoping that they wouldn’t read what was inside, although you hadn’t written anything scandalous.

Once you were ready to go, Ivar exited his own private quarters, revealing that he had bathed himself, and was again pushing himself in the braces, adjusting them on his own.

“… I am leaving and I’ll be back again for dinner time” you saluted him, coming closer to him, till you were face to face, and he pushed a light kiss on your hands “… have a blessed day, Ivar”.

“You as well, lovely one”.

You blushed, before you moved with the two girls on your tail, Angelika again shooting you a knowing look, meanwhile Arabella moved to send the letter out.

You moved to Hilde’s shop, the small woman welcoming you eagerly, as the handmaidens slowly appeared, all knowing the hour to meet you at the stop, as quite the crowd gathered around.

“My queen, you look more beautiful each day passing” Hilde bowed to you, as you ushered her to stand, denying her words gently, but accepting her compliments “… and you certainly do not lack of a loyal entourage”.

“… and they are all excited to try on your dresses” you commented excitedly, as the woman quickly moved to look at the other girls, as if she was searching what might fit them more.

“Oh yes, I know” she commented, as she moved to look up at you “… I saw in my dreams a flock of swans coming to my lake, and I knew that you wouldn’t have been alone today, sweetheart”.

You blushed at the affectionate comment, before Hilde moved away from to you, to examine each girl, as they reacted strangely meanwhile the smaller Nordic woman went past them, pulling on their hair or grabbing their hands to see the inside of it, muttering things such as ‘royal blue would suit’ or ‘green eyes for a golden gown’.

You smiled, feeling a bit at ease seeing your handmaidens starting to chat among each other, almost as if nothing had changed from their courtly life.

Almost as if they had settled in, like you.

You were quickly distracted, finding yourself to think that although you had been damnably scared by the Viking life, you were slowly growing into it, with their loose dress and most importantly… pants.

Although you were still uneasy about the entire ‘godly parts’, mostly their rituals.

Talking with Ivar during dinner last night, you had discovered that they’d be offering a sacrifice to the gods, that to your honor would have been an animal and not a human.

The sole thought of a human being sacrificed made your stomach turn around, and you were grateful you hadn’t done breakfast, hoping to eat something at the small market in the settlement.

Thankfully your head was pushed away from this by Hilde’s hands, grabbing onto yours with a tight grip, as she dragged inside her small tent, getting a piece of fabric down from a metal hanger in the semi-darkness of the tent, allowing a bit of privacy as she closed the tent behind herself.

A clear invite to try on the dress, which you found quite difficult to fit on your body, unused to this shape, and when you got out, all your handmaidens came around you, Angelika and Arabella barely holding back a laugh, meanwhile Caryn moved to adjust it alongside Lia.

Solveig, instead, lightly combed your messed-up hair with her wrinkly fingers, laughing at you, and when you were halfway settled, you turned to look at yourself in the small mirror outside of her tent, and… blushed.

The dress was of a deep purplish red, the color of royalty, set up on your middle with a golden belt, that tightened the dress, although it was left lightly puffy on the chest, in asymmetric cut that resembled the many dresses you had seen in the pictures of books about ancient Greece.

The lower part wasn’t tight but held a slit to allow you a more comfortable walk, but also exposing so much skin that you weren’t exactly sure would have been thought to be appropriate.

And it made your nervous.

It was beautiful.

But you had never worn anything like this.

And you weren’t sure it fitted you, rightfully.

Although it highlighted perfectly your body, you weren’t sure you had been able to bring justice to it.

“… Hilde it is beautiful” you commented softly, as you turned to her, who smiled at you”…but I am not sure… I mean… I am not sure it is made for me”.

Hilde had seemed shocked and almost offended, and you had immediately tried to explain to her why you didn’t feel like this dress belonged to you, although it was one of the most beautiful you had ever worn.

“… my queen” called out to you Hilde, with her usual emphasis on your title-that-wasn’t-yet-your-title “… I see insecurity in your own body, your eyes tell me that you aren’t used, but you have nothing to hide. You shine with beauty inside and out”.

You couldn’t help but be taken back by that comment, although you weren’t fully convinced, looking at yourself again in the mirror and noticing every little flaw of your body, as you had always done.

“… the crazy tailor is right” commented Angelika in English, making you blush lightly, as you were surprised by her words “… I hate to admit it, but you are prettier than me in that dress”.

“Girls! Check her temperature!” you joked to try to shimmer away the blush you felt on your cheeks “… she must be sick for what she is saying”.

“… but you look very very pretty, princess (Y/N)!” commented one of the youngest handmaidens, making you smile, as you bowed lightly.

“Believe me that dress fit you perfectly, girlie” added Solveig, adjusting the dress so that it could flow around you more perfectly “… many years to adjust dresses and I know when one just is… the one”.

“Ok ok” you ended up saying, unable to think of another way to refuse the gentle women “… I’ll take it”.

A chorus of laughter and mumbles of assent welcomed you, as Hilde then moved to offer various suggestions to the girls, as they entered her tent, leaving it as gorgeous princesses and beautiful ladies, as they commented all on the easiness of the dresses, comfortable as they twirled barefooted.

You hadn’t ever thought of being able to laugh like this, without your sister.

And suddenly something felt heavy on your chest.

Abigail and Kathleen.

What were they doing right now?

Did Kathleen know already you were safe and sound?

You’d have to suggest to Alexander to send her a letter to let her know you weren’t at risk of death anymore.

The morning soon passed in a whirlwind of fabric and you insisting to pay Hilde at least for the dresses of your beloved handmaidens, to which the woman agreed, as she clasped tight onto your hand, making you lower yourself closer to her.

‘… hard times are coming for you, my little bird’ she spoke with a tender tone, as her eyes were truthful ‘… that’s why I want you to feel like a queen, because that’s what you are, and you should never ever forget it’.

And although you had never believed this kind of thing, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, as you moved to the place where you were supposed to meet Alexander, accompanied by Eleanor and Caryn, as always keeping her promise of serving you, and although you wanted nothing more than to go back to the intimacy you had.

But it seemed impossible.

“Princess, do you think that it is proper to meet another man without prince Ivar’s approval?” asked softly Eleanor, the more demure of your handmaidens, with soft hips and an amber gaze, and although you cherished her sweetness, you shot her a slight look, before you commented.

“… if you won’t say anything, I won’t either”.

And Caryn’s eyes spoke of a complicity that you recognized.

And hope wouldn’t be mistaken.

You knew that asking Ivar Ivar’s permission would have been as useful as trying to make a hole in the water, and that if you hadn’t done this, Alexander would have thought that you were still under the influence of Ivar, and he would have prolonged his staying here.

And as much as it didn’t weigh on you, it certainly did weigh on your reputation among the Vikings.

And Alexander’s staying was damnably painful.

It reminded you of past times, of different times that wouldn’t have ever come again.

Thankfully Alexander was a gentleman and didn’t make you wait, as your handmaidens moved to adjust everything to leave you a bit of privacy, and your best friend courtly bowed to you, kissing your hand, as he took in your curious appearance.

“… might I say that I haven’t still wrapped my mind around the Viking fashion?” he commented making you laugh light and blush painfully as you felt inadequate in your dress “… yesterday you wore pants”.

“They are comfortable” you tried protesting “… but we aren’t here to talk about me”.

“We are, I mean… I was sent to see if you were in brilliant shape which I might confirm” he commented dashingly “… you look beautiful, my princess”.

A slight blush spread on your cheeks, but nothing in you fluttered the way it did when Ivar gave you a compliment, to prove further the fact that you didn’t feel anything anymore for Alexander.

“… I am happy of this” you replied “… they treat me well, they haven’t hurt me”.

“You have been involved in a conspiration because of your husband!” he tried to shout, as you shot him an apologetic look.

“:.. wouldn’t it have happened also if I had remained in court?” you shot back, knowingly, as Alexander lightly hung his head between his shoulders as if he had been defeated.

“That’s why I told my father that I won’t take on his role till he dies…” he mumbled, as his eyes shot away from you and onto the land that bordered the Viking settlements “… I don’t want to be corrupted by any of that…”.

“… shit?” you tempted him, as this time it was his cheeks that blushed lightly.

“They corrupted you”.

“Actually… Kathleen taught me that” you replied, as he shot you an even more surprised look.

“Oh Gosh, have I missed you princess (Y/N)”.

---

The lunch had been quite satisfying and you had been glad to spend some time with Alexander, although the notion that he’d go back to England, and that you’d stay here was almost painful.

Training and the harmless chatter among your handmaidens felt comfortable to forget, but when you were left alone to wait for Ivar, who planned your return to Kattegat with his brothers, bad thoughts crowded your mind.

Not even your beloved books could satisfy you, and you were left to do nothing more than think about what would have happened if anything had happened to you once all of this was over and how guilty you felt at betraying Ivar, although you were doing it for the greater good.

Or at least this is what you said.

You were readjusting yourself on the bed for the fifth time, after you had sent both Turid and Solveig away, although the latter had made a small herb brewing to ease your soul.

Turid, instead, had been a quite peaceful presence, although you had started learning her way of communicate her needs, mostly noticing the way her eyes would follow lingering closer prince Hvitserk, when he came to eat with you in your tent.

And you had the good thought to tell him to keep his hands to himself, if he wanted to keep them.

Ivar caught you in a rather awkward position trying to read, as he walked in, unable to withhold a small smirk, as you readjusted with your cheeks full of red blush, trying to shimmer away the attention, telling him that Hvitserk had dropped some dinner also for him…

… hadn’t he decided to steal it, at the last minute.

‘… what a thoughtful thing’ he commented, joining you on bed, as you scrunched your nose to tell him not to drop anything on the clean sheets, since as much as you wouldn’t be the one changing them, you didn’t like to use Solveig or Turid more than necessary.

They had also had a dress, although both had insisted against it, saying they were low thralls born in slavery who had both grown up with nothing as precious as the dresses, but you couldn’t deny that they were part of the familiar group you had been slowly creating.

Turid with her comforting presence and Solveig with wisdom.

“… I’ll be careful” he commented softly, a light shiver going down your spine at that scruffy mumble “… but is everything alright with you?”.

“Just too many thoughts in my little head” you mumbled, softly, meanwhile Ivar basically ate the whole piece of meat in one bite, turning to you at that affirmation, as you moved to come to his side.

“… your head isn’t little, I think it is quite the contrary” he replied, gently kissing it, once he cleared his mouth ruthlessly on his dirty tunic, and you giggled scooting away, although the gesture had been quite welcome “… but that can be a curse, because it does indeed open us to too many thoughts and it is tiring”.

“You can say that”.

“Can I help you with your thoughts?” spoke tightly Ivar, as his eyes looked at you as if he wanted to know them but knew not to step further on your boundaries.

“I don’t think that there is much that will help me” you muttered sadly, leaning lightly your hand on his shoulder “… do you know something that might make me think about everything else than what is stuck in my mind”.

“… I might have a few ideas” and a few moments after you were set in front of a chess board, one of the many gifts that your father had brought to Ivar for your hand in marriage.

The figures were refinished but also long-lasting, as you examined through your fingers, meanwhile Ivar started to explain you the game and you felt the utter satisfaction of tell him that ‘you did know how to play’.

‘Who taught you?’ he had asked, meanwhile he adjusted the pieces on the board, him being the black ones and you the white ones,

‘Nobody, except myself. My father would have me and my sisters in the same room with him, meanwhile he played it, and I slowly took in his playing and strategies’.

What you were less happy was the fact that Ivar played much more brilliantly than your father, and soon you had two lost games on your shoulders.

‘This doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest’ you mumbled annoyedly, meanwhile Ivar set up the board again, laughing at your comment ‘… you should let me win’

“… that wouldn’t make it very fair”.

“But it would make me feel better”.

He laughed, before leaning in and pecking softly your lips, for the first time without you asking or igniting the kiss, something that made you cherish its sweetness and the comfortable way he was starting to make you feel around him.

“… just focus a bit more”.

And you did, trying to focus on the strategy that Ivar used, since although he was brilliant, his schemes were recurring and you had to break them, playing dirty as you smirked at Ivar, lowering lightly one sleeve of your nightgown, adjusting it meanwhile Ivar lost his bishop.

And then his king.

He looked displeased of having lost, but it didn’t take him long to calm himself, as he saw the sweet smile that appeared on your lips, and you had to admit that your mind was a bit less clouded, as you asked him again to play another game.

‘… I am feeling giddy over having won the great Ivar The Boneless, now you can’t seriously expect me to go to sleep’.

And you had played till very deep in the night, enough that you had both fall asleep on the board, risking a few pieces falling down the bed as you woke up with your back aching but strangely relaxed, Ivar’s hands having drifted gently onto yours, almost touching.

“… if anybody asks…” he muttered, before you both dove under the covers “… we slept like this because we were both tired and not because we spent the entire night playing chess”.

“Understood, my prince” you commented, finishing the deal with a soft kiss on his cheek, as he blushed, laughing lightly “… we could have breakfast in bed, I’ll just have to tell Turid, if you want to readjust the covers in the meanwhile…”.

“That seems lovely” he commented, before his gaze caught onto you “… you are lovely”.

“I doubt it” you moved away, to hide your blushing cheeks, meanwhile Ivar instead brought you closer to him, pushing you onto his laps, as you immediately hid your face between your fingers.

“… you look beautiful” he tried to push your hands away, meanwhile he brought you closer “… (Y/N) the Lovely, that’s what they should call you”.

“That sounds tantalizing delightful” you commented, trying to get away from him, as suddenly your mind became awake with horrible thoughts, thoughts about the fact that Ivar didn’t know that your beauty was nothing but a front.

Whatever he found beautiful in you, would have been his damnation.

“You are tantalizing delightful” he said it in English, making you tremble at his thick accent, before he let you up, a slight blush on his own face, as you felt his lower body against you, a sensation that made you giddy, but you quickly set up to your own mission, meanwhile Ivar did his.

You covered yourself with a thick woolen mantle, not trying to think about the sinful way you had almost wanted Ivar a few minutes ago, but you honestly should stop, if not for yourself, for some correctness for him, who seemed thoroughly enamored with you.

And he was starting to like you for you.

And it was a beautiful sensation for somebody who had never had something like that, but you felt like you were leeching on that love.

And it pained you.

Turid was already awake and was more than happy to steal a few sweets from you, meanwhile Solveig gave a few orders around, mostly because Hilde had sent the dresses and they had to be adjusted and brought to its rightful owner.

You were glad to help her a bit, not fully knowing why you didn’t feel comfortable approaching Ivar yet, not after your small dialogue.

“… slept well, my lady?” piped in Angelika, strangely already awake, as she set beside you and Solveig.

“Heavenly” you muttered, hissing through your teeth.

“… you should learn when to speak and when to keep your mouth closed” muttered in Norse Solveig, getting surprised when Angelika shot her an annoyed look, obviously annoyed and completely understanding what the Viking thrall said.

“And you that I can completely understand you” retorted Angelika with the fakest smile, as Solveig shot her one poisonous of her own, something that made you move between them, before things could escalate.

“… calm down” you commented to both “… it is just morning”.

“It is never too early for anything” Angelika replied, before moving away, as Lia came to get her in an attempt to avoid any fights, for which you were thankful “… and I am joining you this afternoon, for the training”.

She said it almost as if she was the leader, the princess of the castle, and you were able to simply nod.

You were almost thankful when Turid came back with the breakfast, warning Solveig to avoid Angelika, as the old woman simply shot you another look as if to say that ‘she had handled worse’.

You moved back in the tent, surprised not to see Ivar, but you quickly heard water splashing, as your private bathroom was lightly closed by the rough piece of fabric that divided it from the rest of the tent, thick enough to hide from the gaze.

But not from the ears of others.

In fact, you heard a few grumbles, that became suddenly more animalistic gruntles, something that made you question whether Ivar was hurt, as you lightly called out his name, the noises from the bathroom completely disappearing.

Ivar replied tightly, his voice slightly high and feminine, as he invited you to start eating without me.

‘Just leave me something, little beastie’.

‘Don’t even try’ you replied, forgetting quickly about the strange behavior of Ivar, simply thinking that he was bathing, and the grumbles and grunts were due to his strain in moving around the bathtub.

On his most tired days, he’d need also help.

It was confirmed as Ivar came back, his hair lightly wet, as he slithered around the bed, since he hadn’t worn his braces, to come up to you, raising himself onto the bed, solely through the help of his arm, a show that made you hot and bothered, as you blushed at that wondrous sight.

“… did I ruin your appetite?” mumbled grumpily Ivar, as he saw that you had stopped eating to observe him, something that made you almost choke on what you were eating “… well that is the most dramatic reaction I ever got”.

But he gently offered you ale, that you refused, and once you were able to breath without tasting the sweet in your nose, you moved to softly lean in, closer to him, reassuring him physically that he didn’t disgust you, since you were slowly starting to understand that with him anything physical was more effective than words.

“I was actually admiring you” you commented coyly, seeing a slight blush appear on his cheeks.

“… admiring me?”.

“Yes” you nodded softly, as you took one of the sweets, and moved to feed it to Ivar, who seemed an hungry and curious beast, looking at you with smart eyes, as you moved to gently slip the sweet past his plump lips “… you must have noticed that I might have a slight fascination with your muscles”.

“You do?” there was genuine surprise in his eyes, as you lightly retreated the sugary treats from his lips, before they could wrap around it.

“… I do” you were now suddenly the one all blushy.

And Ivar looked all smug about it, as he moved to softly bit onto the treat in your hand, but you quickly moved it away from him, before pushing it onto your mouth.

He shot you an offended look and then he turned to you and before you knew it, he pushed you down the bed, playfully, properly pinning you down, as you laughed softly, but were quickly shut up by Ivar kissing you.

And he chased the taste of the sweet in your mouth, as you laughed softly, at the affection.

“… you are an hungry minx” he commented, as he grabbed a sweet, meanwhile you were too taken aback by the kiss to properly react like a human creature “… but I am glad you like my muscles”.

“Don’t push it” you muttered, knowing that you had dug your own tomb.

“Oh, I will” he replied, kissing your forehead “… I’ll walk shirtless simply for the pleasure of teasing you princess”.

“That’d definitely help me with my bad thoughts”.

You both erupted in laughter, as you exchanged sweets and kisses.

And then Ivar left you, surprising you one last time, as he told you that he had taken it upon himself to invite Alexander over for dinner, which surprised you, but Ivar simply told you that it was better ‘to keep your enemies closer’.

And although you were glad that you hadn’t to undergo anything unknown to Ivar to see your friend, you had a bad feeling about it.

But you didn’t say much more to Ivar, as you said your ‘goodbyes’ to him with a soft kiss, that Ivar deepened dirtily, making you moan softly, something that brought a beautiful color on your cheeks.

That Hvitserk noticed immediately as he come to lounge in your tent, in a vague attempt of stealing the leftovers of your breakfast with Ivar.

‘… you got the hots for my brother, don’t you?’ he commented, before he seemed to rethink over the words he had said ‘… I never thought I’d say that’.

“Then don’t say it” you mumbled, trying to appear busy as you wrote letters to your sisters, hoping that Alexander could bring them to their recipients “… don’t stick your nose in my business or…”.

“… or you’ll curse me, I know… I know” he muttered under his breath “… it is just that… I haven’t seen Ivar this happy in… so much… since…”.

“… since what?” you asked, your spying personality finally coming up as your ears peaked up, although your father’s own purposes were quite away from your own, in that moment, and you wanted to know it all just to make you understand more Ivar.

As a lover would do.

“… since our mother’s death” Hvitserk’s growl let out much more emotion than his eyes did, a tight smirk replacing his usual open smile “… he hasn’t thought about much else than his revenge, actually”.

“Revenge?” you felt almost dumbfounded discovering all of this “… on who?”.

You couldn’t help but feel a shrill of worry and fear, as if you were suddenly travelling in unknown territory and you weren’t sure to have the means to exit it.

“… on Lagertha, our mother’s murderer” he explained, almost as if it was a bitter bite, too much for him, sadly “… Ivar took it at heart especially, he and our mother, Aslaug had a close bond”.

“I am sorry for your loss, still” you commented softly, as you moved a hand to grip on Hvitserk’s one, who simply smirked sadly at you, exiting quickly your hold on his hand.

“It didn’t… it didn’t affect me as much as it affected Ivar” he simply justified it “… to me his crazy plan to get revenge is… crazy, indeed”.

You couldn’t help but see uneasiness and eagerness in Hvitserk’s eyes, almost as if he hadn’t ever been asked his opinion about this, and at the same time he ached for it, in a way that made everything unsolved.

“Christians frown upon revenge” you said, softly “… but I lost a mother and although revenge wouldn’t bring her back, I sometimes… I do understand why Ivar feels like that”

You knew that this was a deep confession for you, since you had never dared to admit your feelings against your father to anybody.

You knew that although he hadn’t killed your mother, his constant beatings had made her frail health even more at danger, and then one day they had been too much.

And your mother laid lifeless, white as a lily on her bed.

And you had cried your heart out.

Also fear had always shone in your eyes, and it had been confessed to your sisters, but you had never commented the anger against your father that brew inside of you, and suddenly was let out, as Hvitserk sent you a small surprised look, before you shook the bad feeling away from your face, feigning again innocence.

“… it is just that sometimes Ivar can be extreme”.

“On that I agree”.

“… is he also extreme in bed?” Hvitserk lightly wiggled his eyebrows, as you elbowed him, something that stole the breath away from the young boy.

“Why are you all so noisy?”.

“Because you are the wife of a prince” he smirked, before assuming a royal tone “… your own life doesn’t belong to you anymore, but to the people”.

“… that seems utter bullshit” your profanity made Hvitserk shoot a surprised look at your profanity “… I learned from the best”.

“I can’t believe that you think I am the best at something” Hvitserk crooked a soft a smile at you “… but this won’t avoid a talk about all the things that could embarrass my brother”.

“… you should stop doing that” the mutter left your mouth, and your brother-in-law looked at you confusedly “… trying to embarrass Ivar”.

“It is just brotherly teasing” he almost seemed annoyed by your noisy invasion.

“… not it isn’t” you commented tightly, because although you didn’t want to annoy Hvitserk “… I have sisters, and although you think that we, women, are tamer than you, believe me we are as ruthless as males if not more… and we don’t… sometimes with Ivar you seem a bit too mean”.

“… you don’t know him” Hvitserk’s anger shine his own words, and you knew that you should have kept your mouth shut.

“… I just know that it should be teasing and not anger” you commented and Hvitserk’s eyes lowered, almost admitting that you were right “… but what can I know, I am simply a stupid woman”.

That’s what your father would have told you.

But Hvitserk simply grabbed your hand this time.

“… you are a blessing, princess”.

---

The rest of the day had slowly moved itself in a monotonous pace, something that had made the dinner the most interesting part of the day, but as soon as Alexander moved in, completely closed off, you found yourself revaluing your excitedness.

‘Come, lord Alexander, or at least that is the title that my wife told me you own…’ commented Ivar, with a snobby smirk that made you also uneasy, and you shot him a light look to tell him to be ‘nice’ ‘… sit beside us, it’ll be our honor’.

Alexander hadn’t reacted in a better way, nodding as he bowed to you, but not to any of the brothers, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar and Ubbe, both grimacing, meanwhile Bjorn looked too drunk for it as he talked with Halfdan and Hvitserk was already staring at a few of his ‘victims’ of the night.

You welcomed Alexander with an attentive mind, as he complimented your choice of dress, a deep maroon one, bordering with red, and lined with argent details, something that gave you a mature look, definitely more Saxon.

“… are you having a nice staying?” you asked softly, as you turned to Alexander, knowing that not many would approach him and that Ivar had already started a conversation with Ubbe, in Norse, probably talking shit about Alexander, if you were understanding right.

“I am, and the men are used to worse” joked Alexander “… the settlements seem… truly a work of art or… of the Devil”.

“That’s because you haven’t seen the marketplace” you commented gingerly, gaining an amazed look from Alexander “… I told you: they might be Vikings but they aren’t heathens”.

“And silly me who thought they were the same thing”.

The dinner continued among your chatters and your soft laughs, as Ivar sometimes would gently grip your hair or rub your thigh over your dress, almost a confirmation that you were still there.

That you were with him, beside him.

And you would answer, turning for a sweet smile solely for him.

And Alexander would roll his eyes.

But what got truly a reaction from him was when you revealed to him why you would be hosting celebrations, for the lands that you had given up on Ivar, as his eyes showed true offense.

“… why did you?!”.

“It’s no big deal, Alexander” you replied, trying to calm him down, meanwhile you saw heads turning to you and since your popularity rate was negative, you tried to avoid a scene “… he told he’ll give me back those lands”.

“… your lands, exactly!” he shouted, and Ivar behind you stiffened, his hand tightening around the knife on his side, and you comforted him with a quick look, as you invited Alexander out, your tight and strong tone surprising him enough that when realization kicked in, you were already out.

“You don’t understand Alexander” you commented once you were out of earshot “… I did this to keep you protected”.

“I should be the one doing it” also his tone was a bright hiss “… and I have been failing miserably at it”.

“I don’t need protecting” you replied tightly, surprised at those words, because had Alexander uttered the same words a few years ago you would have fallen in his arms.

But you had undergone so much that you felt numb.

And that you knew you could handle yourself.

Although it was ungrateful.

But Alexander’s behavior was out of line, completely.

“… it doesn’t seem so” his tone surprised you, because although you knew that Alexander could be arrogant, his tone now was down right derisive “… you have been involved in a conspiration and you have had to give up on lands that belonged to you by birthright”.

“But I am still alive!” you shouted, in exasperation, as he backed away from you “… it might seem idiotic, but let me tell you… I have survived so much that I know how to take care of myself”.

You hadn’t ever been that knowing of your willingness to live as in that moment.

And you had never felt that strong as in that moment.

And you looked like it straightening up your back.

You weren’t a pawn in this game anymore.

Since the conspiracy had set a target on your head, you had taken a more active role.

And you wouldn’t relent it.

“My father will probably has explained you why I am here truly…” you whispered lightly, trying not to be heard, although only night was around you “… he bargained my life with the devil. And let me tell you that I thought I’d have been destroyed, but I am here, I am still here”.

This was your own kingdom and you wouldn’t relent the crown easily, although you knew your role and you’d follow your father’s orders, but you wouldn’t tolerate the prejudices and prohibitions everyone around you gave you.

And then suddenly, before you could register his movements, Alexander was onto you.

He was kissing you.

And you were too surprised to react properly.

But something settled in you.

Dreariness of having been forced in the act, that made you immediately push away your old best friend, as you would have done with an attacker, focusing on the strength of your arms hitting him on the chest with your elbows, since he was stronger than you.

And then you felt free.

For the rest operated his surprise.

And soon he was off you.

And you couldn’t deny your surprise

As a feeling of hollowness settled on your stomach.

It was matched by the disgust on your lips at such a gesture, something that seemed more an arrogant claiming of you than a true kiss.

And you didn’t belong to anybody.

“… what?” you asked him, as you brought a hand to your lips, wondering whether it had happened or not, but the look of pure hurt on Alexander confirmed that he had indeed kissed you “… we can’t”.

“We could run away” now his eyes moved into an almost manic state, something that made you nervous “… we could run away and hide in my own lands”.

“We can’t” this time you weren’t hesitant and neither merciful “… we would be caught and believe me I just can’t leave now…”.

“… you don’t have to be your father’s spy” Alexander promised you “… this isn’t something that you have to do anymore, don’t you understand it? We can live in freedom”.

“As long as my father lives, there won’t be any freedom for me” your eyebrows furrowed annoyedly at the fact that Alexander just couldn’t understand.

You didn’t belong to anybody, but your body followed your father’s orders still.

But there was more behind it.

You didn’t want Alexander.

You weren’t in love with him.

And it wasn’t something you could fake.

“You have changed” his tone seemed almost a bittersweet reprimand “… before I left for Ireland, you wouldn’t have thought about running away with me”.

And as much as your words hurt you, you felt like they were the most appropriate.

“Before you left Ireland, I was in love with you”.

Before Ireland had been an era away.

If you had thought that entire years had passed since you had last been in England, among Saxons, and it was enough to change you completely.

But the truth is that you hadn’t changed much.

You had just scraped away the convictions and insecurities that had kept you tame.

Those words shocked Alexander, and this time he was the one who pushed himself away from you, shooting you a tight look, almost wounded, but you couldn’t live in a lie, even more when your heart was steering towards Ivar, although it shouldn’t.

You had to admit that you felt guilty for the kiss you had briefly shared with Alexander although it was unwanted.

“… and you aren’t anymore” he almost seemed heartbroken, as he got back from that angry stupor.

“I don’t think that it was love from the start” your voice were almost cutting in your own mouth “… and I know that you didn’t love me back then, we were simply good friends, and I had a crush on you, but you chased somebody else’s skirt”.

“You are bitter because I didn’t notice you back then?” his tone seemed almost spiteful, almost as insult for you.

“No, no” you spat back “… you did break my heart, but this doesn’t mean that I am trying to make you pay for it. I just… this isn’t… this isn’t anything personal, but my heart isn’t yours”.

“Is it that heathen’s?” this time his words were straight up insult, as he spat on the ground between your feet, making you tremble on your place “… I hope you won’t cry when he stabs you in the back”.

“Wife?” Ivar appeared behind the flap of the tent, right on time, as you shook your head to push back tears, walking across Alexander as you shot him a quick look “… is everything alright?”.

“I am just tired, me and Alexander have talked about important matters…” and you turned lightly at Alexander as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut “… thoughts that made me nostalgic”.

“Then I’ll lead you back to our tent” Ivar clashed his teeth together, as he sent a sour look at Alexander, as if he wanted to punish him for having made you sad, and Alexander withheld his gaze, and for a moment you thought there would be a blown out fight “… let’s go”.

You were glad to follow Ivar, feeling a horrible sensation in your chest due to Alexander’s words.

They made you feel like a traitor.

But you knew you were right.

You couldn’t reciprocate his feelings and it wouldn’t have been right for him to fake them.

Even more when he wanted a life that you couldn’t give to him.

“You look truly troubled” mumbled tightly Ivar, as he saw you dropping without too many ceremonies on your shared bed, his eyes following you attentively and you tried to shift away all those bad emotions, for a tight smile.

“I just miss my sisters and Alexander reminded me of them” you faked, although your tone sounded honest, since it had been something that you had been thinking lately, the date of your departure coming closer and closer.

Alongside whether your father would have acted before Ivar’s departure or he would have let you go away, in a new land, that was unknown to you.

“… you could visit them one day” Ivar’s words were careful, but meaningful and they surprised you, as you raised lightly to look at him in the eyes, to see if he had spoken the truth “… I know that you’ll miss them when we’ll be in Kattegat. We could visit the castle,or they could come here”.

“That’d ease my mind greatly” you replied softly “… thank you”.

Ivar’s lips gently blessed your forehead, before he went to change.

“… of course, they are your family, after all”.

And that was the last thing that you had heard before a quite slumber took you.

---

The following day had been intense, something that you had been grateful since this meant that you didn’t have to overthink Alexander’s words and that feeling of guilt you had in your chest.

You almost understood why Hilde had blessed you with that dress.

You were feeling truly shitty.

So, you were thankful when during the middle of the afternoon your handmaidens and you started getting ready for the feast, the girls all twirling in their dresses, once they had ruthlessly pushed both Ivar and Hvitserk away.

A few took care of your hair, making sure that the crown Ivar had gifted you shone in them, meanwhile others adjusted you in the dress.

You had allowed the handmaidens to borrow some of your jewels, and you had almost risked your arms being cut off when you opened the box with your most precious jewels, eventually settling up on one for each girls, trying to avoid fights.

It felt almost as your own court, with no envy and no injustices, no fear and no ignorance.

It almost made you feel pride for what you had done.

In the end you had chosen to wear the dress Hilde had gifted you, almost as a reaction to Alexander’s hateful words.

The dress would be your smart rebellion.

And as you shot one last look, once your hair was pushed up around the crown, meanwhile you wore the dress, matching it with deep rubies earrings, that brought attention to your face, giving it a clean look exposing every detail of your body, as Angelika reddened your cheeks with some natural color and Caryn highlighted with expertise your eyes with a bit of kajal.

Angelika wore a royal blue gown, which you found quite fitting for the royal-looking girl, sporting a necklace with a small sapphire at its center, bringing attention to her cleavage.

Meanwhile Caryn’s dress was light almost white, highlighting the darkness of her precious skin, in a contrast that would have blinded any man, hadn’t her beauty blinded them first, matched with a collier of silver gold.

You looked like a mix between heathens and Saxons, in something that you felt didn’t fail to represent the duality of your nature.

And you felt almost good, as you exited your tent, right in time to take part in the sacrifice, with a fur mantle on your dress, hiding it completely since that night was cold and wet, as your handmaidens scurried behind you, Solveig grabbing the light train of your dress to avoid it dirtying.

First of all, you knew that there’d be the ritual sacrifice, which would happen outside and then the dinner would happen, something that you were honestly looking forward, but for the entire ritual sacrifice, you stood by Ivar’s side, trying to keep your eyes on the killing of an innocent animal.

You already felt sick to your stomach as you witnessed that.

The killing of a human wouldn’t have been something that you could stand, but you took one step at the time.

Your eyes moved around searching for Alexander almost scared to face him again, but you knew that there’d be no Saxons, at least for the ritual.

They’d join you on the dinner, and you almost hoped that Alexander wouldn’t be there, because you didn’t know what to say, how to approach him.

Had you been the previous princess, the one that desperately strived to satisfy everyone, you would have apologized.

But now the words were rough on your tongue.

Ivar’s clutched your hand as he felt you wavering away and you simply nodded at him, as the sacrifice was finished and the priestess, the same one who had officiated your marriage, moved to deck blood onto all the brothers, starting from Bjorn and moving onto Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar.

And you, as she stained your forehead with the blood, then lightly dipping some on your mouth, something for which you had to hold back vomit, but you did gratefully bow at the priestess, who also stained with the blood your furs, right onto your belly.

‘… next month may you not bleed, my princess’ she spoke and she bowed, before moving away, Ivar and you blushing lightly at the implication, but Ivar also mumbled a few thankful words, and then you moved inside, Ivar disappearing from your side, as Hvitserk brought him away, and Bjorn took your husband’s place, guiding you towards the Great Hall.

Thankfully Angelika wasn’t much behind you and Caryn was at her side, Turid trailing after them, something that made you feel more comfortable as you moved in the already full, main hall, many people setting their eyes on top of you and Bjorn moved inside, with you by his side, making idle conversation.

‘How are you finding yourself, here?’

‘Well, then I hope that you’ll say the same in Kattegat’.

‘Does your husband have any intension to overthrow my mother?’.

You feigned innocence at the last question, glad that you had reached your seats, your handmaidens, waiting to take off your fur.

You were thoroughly surprised that Bjorn had been so direct, even more when he had been so disinterested in you.

But you had learned better from your awful experience with Halfdan.

You had your barriers up this time.

“… does it look like Ivar involves me in his plans?” you commented harshly, trying to tell Bjorn to ‘mind his own business’ and ‘back off’, something that took him back, probably since he was used to women smiling their way into his pants “… and even if I knew, why would I tell you?”.

“Because you care to survive” he spoke, his tongue cutting but his eyes unfocused as if you weren’t anything else than a body, and you were happy not to have shed your fur yet “… Ivar won’t win against my mother, believe me, and I do know that you are smart enough to want to survive”.

“Maybe you overvalued me, prince Bjorn” you commented softly, appearing tamed, as you remembered what Nanna had taught you about attacking others, as your eyes became sharper “… and how can you be so sure that it’ll be your mother who’ll win?”.

‘Always hit where it hurts the most’.

And with that you turned around, facing a smirking Angelika, meanwhile Caryn gently pushed your fur off your shoulder, as Turid untangled the bow at your neck, and soon you were simply in your dress in front of the blonde prince, his eyes following every line of fabric as you turned around to face him again with a small smirk.

And then you moved to take your seat, as Bjorn set himself beside you, muttering a simple ‘lucky bastard’ and you couldn’t but smirk as you turned to Caryn, Turid and Angelika, who were at a different but not-too-distant table.

They all smirked brightly at you, proudly, as they exchanged laugh and you almost wished that you could damn etiquette and join them, feeling at unease without a familiar face by your side.

Even more when your eyes caught glimpses of Alexander not too far away, his eyes ignoring you, as they settled on the cup of ale in front of him.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem to hate that beverage anymore.

Nanna came onto your table to chat with you and with the side of your eye, you caught Angelika looking at her with interest and a questioning look and you shot her a devilish look of your own, the other woman simply shaking her head annoyedly.

And then Ivar appeared on the threshold, moving closer to you, who raised up to welcome him.

And to show him your dress.

As you did, the room went quickly silent, as everybody’s eyes were suddenly onto you.

And you didn’t know whether it was for the beautiful dress or for the way your crown caught onto light, coming to live.

Or whether it was for you.

For a moment you almost thought it was for you.

The excitement of the crowd quickly thrumming in your veins, as your eyes set up on Ivar’s surprised face, before a smirk came on his own face, his eyes were fixed on you, genuinely looking at you as if you were the most beautiful spectacle of nature.

And then he was in front of you, separated simply by a table, as you gently bowed your head at him, but he held your chin between his fingers to keep your face up, as he stared in your eyes.

“Apparently Freya blessed us with an appearance” his smirk was playful, and hadn’t you been in public you would have very much liked to kiss it off.

“My prince you make me blush with your compliments” you commented softly, moving to gently grab onto his hand, as he smiled back, kissing your forehead.

He then sat beside you, the entire room having been silent the entire time, as eyes looked at you, no glares or bad eyes, but simply glances of curiosity to the wife of their youngest prince.

The one they thought they’d never see smile at a woman, like that.

You were the unified front that your deal had wanted.

He settled himself down beside you, as soon as he could, walking with a fierceness that made you laugh, and he grabbed your hand under the table, as slowly the clatter of the room came back, helped by Hvitserk who asked ‘when dinner would be served?’.

Dinner was a whirlwind of conversations about nothing and everything, as Ivar gently caressed the back of your hand he held with his thumb and for a moment…

… for a moment you wished this moment could last for ever,

“… you do look actually more beautiful than Freya” commented Ivar in your ear, as he leaned in, making you blush as you shot back a small ‘flatterer’ “… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met”.

“Then you mustn’t have seen many women” you teased him, as he boldly kissed you with a light laughter “… you have a way with words, husband…”.

“… and you love it” it was a bold comment, but it was rewarded with a quite smile from you.

“That I do”.

“Prince Ivar” some soldier called out, ruining your moment.

Lightly embarrassed of your actions, you immediately pushed your stare onto your plate, as Ivar left your side to converse privately with the soldier, something that you allowed with a small kiss to his hand, as you were instead dragged away by your handmaidens to dance, something that made your feet and cheeks ache, from dancing and smiling too much.

You hadn’t had so much fun… in for ever.

Once you were tired of dancing and you made sure that all the girls had rightful partners for the next few dances, the Saxons having joined in although shyly, you sat down waiting for Ivar to come back, wanting to breath a bit and not feel the stench of sweat and beer attaching itself to your body.

And you were drinking ale, as you felt somebody sitting beside you.

Ubbe.

You recognized him as you raised your eyes to him, finally realizing that his gaze wasn’t set up on you, as he started to speak with you, but on Ivar who was talking surrounded by a few of his most trusted soldiers, from which you recognized his own private guards.

“… whatever deal is between you two, I am impressed that it is actually working” someone commented loudly, as they sit next to you, and when you turned you realized it was Ubbe, his insinuation making you blush.

“... or maybe we are simply enjoying the wedding bliss” you replied tightly, trying to match his disinterested tone “… you should know about it, Ivar told me that you have a wife”.

You knew that you had hit him, as you felt his teeth clatter together and tighten his jaw, but it was only a minute before that calm storm reappeared in his eyes, and you should have seen coming that nothing pleasant would happen next.

“I do think that it started all out as a deal between you two, I know my brother enough to know what he is like…” he commented as if he already knew all about it, but you just tried to ignore it, hating the way all this men seemed to know everything about you, thinking they could do better.

It reminded you of your father’s controlling ways.

“… but I think that somehow you are slowly falling in love with him” Ubbe’s admission was what your heart had hidden you in these days, almost since the start of your marriage with Ivar “… that’s why I want you to know this before anything gets further with my brother”.

You expected Ubbe to tell you about his plan to dethrone Lagertha or how moody Ivar can be…

But what Ubbe said next hit you so strongly.

“Ivar killed our brother, Sigurd”.

You choked on your own breath, as your eyes finally turned to Ubbe, almost expecting him to admit that it was a terrible joke, that he had played because he was jealous of Ivar’s happiness, but Ubbe looked back at you with a strong gaze, withholding your panicked look.

“… Sigurd and Ivar’s relationship wasn’t always good, but once, meanwhile we were also feasting Ivar threw an axe at Sigurd, and he hit him, he killed him”.

“Why are you telling me this” your voice was choked, and you couldn’t hide it.

“… because think what he did to his own blood, without any remorse…” Ubbe’s eyes were hungry for your pain “… you might own his heart, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t kill you if you betray him”-

Your feet moved on their own, as you got up, raising yourself so fast that for a moment you were startled, but your body seemed to know better, since it brought you out of the room, in the dizzyingly cold air of the night.

Somebody followed you.

Later you discovered it was Hvitserk and Nanna.

And Ivar.

“(Y/N)!” he called out to you, as you stopped in your steps, him coming closer to you, as he gently touched your shoulder, something that awakened a fear in you, and you moved startled away.

“… is it true?” your words were a simple tremble, a bare whisper, and Ivar looked at you not knowing what you meant “… did you seriously kill your brother?”.

Because if he did, any stupid illusion you had created in your mind broke down.

The silly thought of a life with him wouldn’t be broken by your own father’s ambitions, but by the fact that if he had murdered his brother, his own blood, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same for you.

And your love couldn’t overshadow fear in that moment.

In those days you had lost yourself in a beautiful fantasy, forgetting the harsh reality.

Alexander would have laughed loudly at this, his own prophecy coming true.

“… we can talk about it” he choked on his own words, his blue eyes hiding themselves away from yours, almost as if he was scared of your scrutiny.

And in that moment, you realized how stupid you had been.

How blind.

It didn’t take much as you looked in Ivar’s shadowed eyes to realize it was the truth.

You had lied to him, but he had also left out important pieces.

And now you were left broken.

---

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