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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years

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Along the Silk Road - Broken (Ivar x reader)

(spoiler free!)

A/N: This was requested by @surrendertotheunknown. Sorry it took me so long! I was very conflicted: smut or not? There’s no smut in this one, but a second - smutty - part is possible. Let me know - all of you - if you’re interested!

I wrote this in English first - the French version on Wattpad is a translation. It’s the first time I’ve done this, but definitely not the last 😉

@inforapound, you’re the best and the most supportive beta ever! 💖💖💖

Request:

Warnings: Ivar’s inner demons; angst; fluff (?) at the very end.

Words: 2042

So many noises and sounds, colours, smells, scents... All different, all strange…

So many new feels…

Sometimes, like now, it’s so overwhelming it's hard for him to breathe.

Nonetheless, he's grateful for that because it keeps him from thinking. Thinking kills him so he drowns in this world he doesn't understand.

Laughter and smiles. Many smiles. Too many for his restless mind, his tormented soul. Though he can't help smiling back, feeling a little silly.

He feels dizzy.

Screams and exclamations in a language he doesn't comprehend.

Children, dressed in rags, but who seem genuinely happy.

Men with engraved face and tanned skin, shouting from stall to stall, laughing out loud.

Animals like he's never seen before, colorful birds, huge snakes.

And the women… their skin darker than his own, their hazelnut eyes, their long smooth hair… They are so beautiful… Entrancing… Their female curves, the softness of their features, their smooth, delicate faces…

They radiate such tenderness; such kindness…

They are different from the women back in Kattegat. Less muscular, less athletic. They seem to be more genuine, maybe more ingenious too… More truthful than Freyd…

Feeling nauseous at that thought, he forces himself to focus on something else. Unexpected colors, surprising scents. He's looking for anything, truly, to escape from his depressed, troubled mind.

***

"We are going to stay here for one night, maybe two!" Thorsten's rough voice startles him, bringing him back to the present moment. Confused, he blinks several times. "How? Why ?"

"Your cart needs to be fixed. Horses are tired. Men are tired. We all need to rest. We are traveling day and night for so long, Ivar. Even if Bjorn's men are after us, and I doubt it, we can afford at least a proper night's sleep."

Looking at his man, he weighs his options. He'd like to keep moving forward, even without a goal, but he's exhausted. His legs hurt like hel and his back is sore from sleeping on the floor.

Tilting his head, he slightly nods. "Where then?"

"Over there." Pointing to a small farm not far away, Thorsten explains. "The owner is a merchant. He doesn't live there. It was his stepfather's farm I think. When he died, the merchant couldn't bring himself to sell it. Whatever, we're allowed to stay. The guys and I will sleep in the barn. For one more coin, I got you to sleep in the house, in the one room. The barn girl will bring us bread and water."

***

Sitting on the bed, cutting his beard, a sharp blade in his hand, he doesn't see you looking at him from the threshold. Clearing your throat, he raises his head and finally acknowledges your presence as you slowly enter the room.

Never taking his eyes off you, he watches you getting closer to him. Putting on the table next to the bed the heavy tray you're carrying, you point it out, showing him the food you brought in. Some bread, as you master told you, and chicken that you decided to add on your own, thinking the stranger might be someone important since he had been allowed to sleep in the only room.

Glancing quickly around, the crutches and the leg braces you notice against the wall make you realize he's the cripple you heard about earlier. A Viking, it seems. Maybe even a king. You don't really care who he is. The only thing you care about is the sadness in his eyes, so deep that you can hardly bear it. You want, you need to help.

Taking a step forward, you stretch out your hand before putting it on his, both of your hands now grabbing the knife's handle. He freezes, startled and somewhat baffled, unsure of what your intentions are. But he knows you won't harm him. How could you? You're so small, almost frail.

Staring at you, he can see that you're shy but not scared, as you hold his gaze. You gently put your free hand on his messy beard, your eyes asking for permission.

Conflicted, but mostly dumbfounded; that's exactly how he feels.

The old Ivar would have pushed you away, frightened you, surely even threatened. But he's not that man anymore. Or a king. Or a god. He's barely Ivar. He's a stranger, a runaway. A nobody. That's who he is now. A nobody. A nobody deprived of human touch for so long, craving immensely for your kindness, your gentleness and the warmth radiating from your hand resting on his.

Giving in, allowing himself to be weak, he eventually nods at you quietly and you sit down on the bed, next to him, smiling tentatively. Allowing you to take the blade, he closes his eyes for a moment, breathing out a sigh before resting his hands on his lap.

"Y/N." Whispering, you're almost startled by your own voice.

Words are useless, as you don't know his language and he doesn't know yours. Nevertheless, you feel the need to bond with him; to break his loneliness, even in the slightest way.

His eyes wide open, looking at you bewilderingly, he furrows his brows. "Y/N." Blushing shyly, you keep repeating yourself, your index finger pointing at yourself. "Y/N." One more time.

Suddenly his face brightens, a faint smile curling up his mouth. Mimicking your gesture, his hands points at his own chest. "Ivar."

You nod, showing him you understand, before repeating softly, "Ivar." His smile widens slightly, not even reaching his eyes, but it's enough, you don't need more.

Raising the knife, you release a breathe and get to work cautiously.

***

As so often, he doesn't sleep, fighting his own slumber. Tossing and turning in bed, he sighs heavily, trying to chase away the awful memories from his mind.

Baldur…Freydis... Joined lately by Sigurd.

They are haunting him, endlessly. It's easier during the day. But at night, he's alone. If he falls asleep, it's only to be woken by nightmares. Horrific nightmares. Worse than any he's ever had. Worse than his mother's death. Worse than the shipwreck. Terrifying to the point he doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't know how much longer he can bear to relive their deaths, over and over again. So, he doesn't sleep, racked with guilt.

Exhausted. Exhausted and in pain. That's how he feels, how he is. The sharp physical pain is often overwhelming. He's used to it. Mental pain, on the other hand… He's never felt anything like this before, even when his mother and father died. For the first time in his life, there's no anger left. Just guilt. And an infinite sadness that consumes him day after day, night after night, hour after hour… He doesn't know how to cope.

As he sits in bed, his back resting against the wall, a single tear runs down his cheek.

***

It's far from dawn but you're already busying yourself, making bread for Ivar and his men, who will leave, or not, in a few hours. Either way, they'll be starving when they wake.

"Ivar.” A whisper. You love the way his name rolls off your tongue. "Ivar…"

His huge, dejected eyes haunting your mind, you can't stop thinking about him. What has he been through? Why such grief? You lose your train of thought as you hear a muffled noise. Sobs. There's no one else here, so it has to be him.

Grabbing a candle while rushing toward the room, you poke your head around the half-open door. There he is, crying.

Getting closer, you clear your throat so he'll notice you're there. Looking up slowly at you, tears streaming down his cheeks, his puffy eyes meet yours but you're not sure he sees you. But you can see. The sadness in his gaze seems excruciating. You want to help. You need to.

Without a second thought, you grasp the cloth you left earlier on the table, soaking it into a water bucket intended for his morning wash.

"Ivar." Whispering, you sit down next to him on the makeshift bed, wiping his face gently. A simple gesture, the one your mother used to make when you had a bad dream. At first, he doesn't react, his breathing uneven, his features contracted.

Hoping to soothe him, you put a hand on his chest, still whispering his name as he rocks his head slowly from side to side, sobbing.

"Shh… Ivar…"

All of a sudden, he finally gazes into your eyes, grabbing your wrists. You startle but don't have time to be scared, as he starts talking, his words rushed.

"I am so tired, Y/N. I'm tired of being in pain. I'm tired of being myself. A failure." Hiccupping, he swallows. When he speaks again, it's in a shaky voice. "A… a monster. That's who I am. I killed them. I loved them and yet I killed them. How… How am I supposed to live? I… I should have let Bjorn kill me. I can't anymore. I can't, Y/N."

Ivar's face crumbles as violent sobs wrack his body and make it seem like he might shake apart.

You may not understand his words, but you know what it is. Loneliness. Despair. Torment. Suffering. This man is lost. Distraught. Hopeless. Broken.

"Ivar…” You wish you could tell him it is going to be okay. But you cannot. Because you don't speak his language, clearly; and you don't know that for sure, not wanting to lie.

Therefore, you do the only thing you can. Stretching out your hand, you pull him into your chest, wrapping your arms around him, hoping to provide comfort. He doesn't fight back, leaning forward, his head on your shoulder, his tears on your dress.

He cries for what seems like forever, and you let him. One hand on his back, the other in his hair, humming a lullaby, you gently cradle him.

Finally, he calms down, pulling away, his swollen eyes full of gratitude and you smile before softly stroking his face. His skin is warm beneath your palm. Your lips graze his cheek as your hand faintly squeezes his arm. His slight smile warms your heart as much as it relieves you. He feels better now and you can leave.

Barely moving away from him, his hand grasp yours, preventing you from going.

"Stay."

You don't know the words, but the silent prayer in his eyes is unmistakable, perfectly clear. Sighing to yourself, you cannot deny him.

Closing your eyes, thinking for a moment about your chores, already well underway, you eventually nod and are rewarded with a smooth smile. Shifting in the bed, Ivar adjusts his legs, wincing briefly before lying down, silently requesting you to do the same as one of his hands softly grabs your arm.

"Please, hold me tight, Y/N.” Begging eyes, hesitant voice, he seems almost scared, like a little boy, reminding you of Babak, your baby brother. If you needed it, this sweet memory is enough to convince you.

You slip without a doubt into the sheets and lie down, careful not to touch his legs but he immediately draws you close, his powerful arms lifting you up like you're a twig.

"Thank you." Whispering, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, silent tears returning as you wrap your arms around him once again. "Shh… Ivar….”

Tightening his grip, you can feel him relaxing, holding you tight as if wanting your bodies to melt together. You are sure that tomorrow your skin's will be bruised showing the signs of his need for you. It doesn't matter. Tonight, only Ivar matters. It's all about him.

Humming once more, a chill goes down your spine as he awkwardly croons, apparently pleased with you. Yet, he soon falls silent, allowing you to get lost in the beauty of the moment. The peacefulness is nearly exhilarating, putting a smile of hope on your lips. Everything is fine. And maybe Ivar will be fine, too.

Eventually, his breathing gets deeper, slow and steady. One arm across your chest, his head on your shoulder and your legs intertwined, he's finally sleeping.

"شببخیرایوار"

Muttering, you kiss his forehead before closing your eyes. For now, he's fine.

🛡⚔️🛡

A/N: " شببخیرایوار"= Good night, Ivar"

@gearhead66 @lisinfleur @honestsycrets @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @readsalot73

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar vikings #ivar imagine #vikings ivar #ivar x reader

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