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wakingbetweenworlds · 4 years

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Chapter Three - Philautía

φιλαυτία The Ancient Greek concept of self-compassion and self-love.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Canon Divergence | Canon Violence | Mental Health Issues

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From the moment she took his hand in the smoldering remnants of Snoke's throne room aboard the Supremacy, a peace settled between them, and the bond grew with their proximity. The decision was life altering for them both. This is what he saw in his side of the vision.

With his rise as Supreme Leader and her desertion of the Resistance, everything had changed all at once. She finally stood at his side. And while she knew that her choice was rooted in the light, and made for the right reasons, the fallout was more than either expected.

In the moment, saving the lives of her friends and the remainder of the Resistance had been her first priority. He easily agreed to allow them to flee in exchange for her remaining at his side. Besides, without her, the Resistance was little more than a nuisance, for now. However, she hadn't fully considered the consequences of her actions. It wasn't until later, when she reached out to Leia, that Rey realized what she had done.

He provided her with a subspace comm and a secured channel to contact the weakened Resistance. At first, she was deeply touched by Leia's relief at finding her safe. The Resistance hadn't known she was aboard the Supremacy when Holdo performed her suicide jump to lightspeed. It wasn't until Chewbacca rendezvoused with them on Crait, after the escape, that Leia learned the truth.

Leia explained how they managed to escape but didn't understand the First Order's sudden cease fire, and Rey did her best to explain the situation. She assured Leia that Ben was changing. She explained Ben Solo was the one to kill Snoke. She knew Leia held onto hope that her son would one day come home. But, Rey could feel the boulder in her stomach drop as she explained that she would be staying. Staying with the First Order. Staying with Ben Solo.

Leia did her best to remain calm, but Rey knew what went unsaid. She knew Leia, and the rest of the Resistance, felt as though she failed them. They felt as though she betrayed them. Yes, she provided a vital escape route for them, but she abandoned them in their hour of need. There wasn't much she could say for herself. Her apologies felt hollow. She knew she wouldn't change her answer if given the chance.

That didn't help her now. She was hurt that the people she considered family felt as if she betrayed them. She feared the only thing Leia heard was that her son had manipulated Rey into joining him. That couldn't have been further from the truth. The same intuitive sensation that led her in the beginning led her now. She knew in her bones she was supposed to be exactly where she was, no matter how badly it hurt.

But, things were changing for the better. After the destruction of the Supremacy, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren gave the order to relocate the capital of the First Order to the Steadfast, a Resurgent-Class Star Destroyer. At first, Rey was hesitant to board the imposing vessel, but the Supreme Leader made it quite clear that her orders were to be carried out as if they were his own.

Things were also changing between her and Ben Solo. In the months since the destruction of the Supremacy, their bond flourished. Gone was the tiny tickle that began while he held her captive on Starkiller. Now, the void within her mind filled with him. Unless they were actively blocking each other, he was a constant presence.

They could hide nothing from each other without significant effort, and even then, secretes were only temporary. Sometimes, it was difficult to separate one's feelings from the other's. During strategy meetings, there were times she could barely keep a handle on his explosive temper. During their sparring matches, the combination of their suppressed anger fueled their strikes. When they meditated, his determination to focus kept her on track. Somehow, they achieved a tenuous balance between peace and rage; a gray area between light and dark.

However, there were nights when darkness crept in. In the beginning, when the brooding from his end of the bond clawed its way toward her, she did her best to block him out. She knew there were things he had not shared with her. Nightmares plagued his mind. Nightmares he wished to keep to himself. She understood. She could give him his privacy.

Quickly, the pair fell into a routine. Breakfast was delivered to her quarters promptly every morning. She ate, used the 'fresher, and dressed for the day. Her mornings were spent studying the multitude of texts and holopads he provided.

In the afternoons, she attended strategy meetings with him and other First Order officers. She was allowed to speak freely and offer her opinion on matters regarding plans for the galaxy. He granted her command and valued her input. Of course, he was Supreme Leader Kylo Ren at these meetings. He had to be. But, in the evenings, he was Ben Solo.

After his duties as Supreme Leader were filled, they met in the training hall. They spent numerous hours meditating and sparing. True to his word, he taught her everything he knew. She worked through complicated battle forms with him regularly. He instructed her in hand to hand combat and showed her how to use her small stature to her advantage. And while he gave her his approval easily, she could sense the disquiet in him.

As the months wore on, and their friendship grew, it became more difficult for her to watch him suffer in silence. She started noticing little things, small tells that he let slip through his impenetrable mask. After a particularly rough series of nightmares, the dark circles around his eyes were more prominent. His shoulders seemed to carry more weight as they sagged.

He began losing weight. She worried, watching him carefully to determine if he was eating enough. But with his tendency toward solitude, it was difficult to tell. He still performed his duties as Supreme Leader. He still sparred with her. He still meditated. He still taught her to access the Force. But he withdrew more and more.

Every once in a while, she could feel it. The hatred and self-loathing rolled around her mind in dark waves. She had her own darkness to contend with, but this was something else. This darkness was his. His internal turmoil was almost as familiar as her own. It crept up the bond and clawed toward her, so heavy she felt like she could choke on it.

He was only getting worse, and it confused her to no end. She could feel it in their connection. Slowly but surely, Ben Solo was being pulled toward the light. Having broken Snoke's compulsion over his mind, he was gradually moving forward. But with every step he took toward the light, his mind backed further into the darkness. She knew she needed to intervene, but she couldn't decide the best way to approach him with how withdrawn he became.

She reached her breaking point late one evening cycle. She was restless as she lay in the darkness of her bunk. The only light seeped in from the countless stars outside the transparisteel view ports. She finally drifted off only to be jolted awake by horrible visions dancing behind her eyes. It wasn't the first time their connection had allowed his nightmares to creep in on her, but this was something more.

She sat sweating and heaving in her bunk as she struggled to breath, desperately trying to separate the vision from reality. It had been so real. The events unfolded around her as the subject rather than the viewer. She experienced Snoke's torture first hand. She felt the bones break and the hiss of his voice in her head. The words still rattled through her mind. Worthless. Useless. Weak.

The visions didn't completely fade as she woke. Snoke's twisted visage hung behind her eyes. The phantom throb of old injuries settled deep in her bones. She could only guess what tortures Snoke subjected him to during his training. She was certain these visions were more than nightmares. These were his memories, and that only made the ache in her chest worsen.

A shiver crawled up her spine as she felt his corner of her mind darken. He was awake. She could feel his relief at finding the visions were only another nightmare. But, it was only temporary. She knew the words running through her mind were also on repeat in his. She was acutely aware of him sinking further into the pit of misery he made for himself. He would dwell on the visions, and the past, until it ate him alive. She couldn't bear the thought.

Decision made. She rose from her bunk and pulled a cowl around her shoulders over her sleeping tunic. The corridors of the Steadfast always chilled her. She was a child of the desert, and the dark cold of deep space was something she wasn't sure she'd ever get used to. Shaking free her longing for warm sunshine, she slipped into her boots and out into the halls of the star destroyer.

She didn't need their connection to track him down. He resided only a few blocks down from her. The corridors separating them were deserted at the late hour. But, as she drew closer, the stormtrooper presence surrounding his quarters grew much more prominent. Where she once would have ducked into concealed alcoves to hide from them, she now strode past with her head high. They wouldn't dare stop her.

As she drew closer to his quarters, the feelings of dread grew stronger. She could feel his rage and his pain. There was so much pain. It almost stole the breath from her lungs. She was only a few paces from the door and the Force radiating from inside made her hair stand on end. Steadying herself for what she would find, she took a deep breath and keyed in the code. The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.

She had been in the reception area of his quarters a few times, before meetings or training sessions, but she never went any further. The room was in shambles around her. Furniture was upturned, and random items were strewn across the floor. It looked as if he had raged for hours until he exhausted himself enough to sleep. She couldn't say she was surprised. He had become quite volatile, and his temper always had a short fuse.

Sighing in resignation, she reached out through their bond to pinpoint his location before zeroing in on the durasteel door to her left. She used the Force to let herself into his sleeping quarters. The room was more dimly lit than her own. Dark, heavy curtains covered the view ports, and only small slivers of light illuminated the space.

As the streaks of light fell across his bed, she finally saw him. The sight that greeted her shocked her to her core. In the middle of his bunk sat Ben Solo. His hands fisted in his hair as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. The Supreme Leader of the First Order sobbed like a child in his bed. He was so wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn't even realized she entered the room. She felt her heart rip in two at the sight.

"Ben."

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Despite the quiet, he startled. His hands didn't stray from his face, almost as if hiding from her. He didn't speak, but he did try to quiet his sobs. He seemed to draw further into himself in her presence.

She approached him as one might a wounded animal. And while she had seen him rage, completely unhinged, she had never seen him like this. She felt as though it took an eternity to approach him as time seemed to slow.

She acted on instinct as she reached a gentle hand toward his shaking shoulder. His skin felt like an inferno against her cool palm. She swallowed around the thick lump in her throat as she searched for the right words to say. She wasn't any good at this. At comforting someone.

Instead, she sat heavily on the edge of his bunk, resolving to simply sit with him. What else could she do? Other than the initial tensing of his posture, he hadn't even acknowledged her approach. His head remained in his hands, fingers clinging desperately to dark locks.

As his shoulders shook, she eased her hand in what she hoped was a soothing manner across his bare back. She could feel every flex and quiver in the tense muscles against her palm. Up and down. Left to right.

She prodded lightly across the bond, hoping that she could calm him. He pushed back, almost violently, against her mind. She knew he was embarrassed for her to have found him in his current state. He would fight her tooth and nail if she tried to invade his thoughts now. But, she tried again, reaching as gently as possible across the bond for him.

He relented only slightly, just enough for her to feel the residuals of his pain and self-loathing. All those years spent with Snoke did significant damage to his psyche. She didn't know what she could possibly do for him. Resigning herself for the time being, she simply sat with him.

Slowly, his sobs began to subside as he relaxed slightly into her touch. Large hands raked through his hair and wiped his eyes. He kept his face turned away from her in shame and his voice shook as he spoke.

"I apologize for waking you. I'm fine now. I'll try to keep the nightmares from reaching you."

She sighed heavily at his words. His voice was raspy from his sobs and wet with unshed tears. She wouldn't relent. Not this time. There must be something she could do for him to at least lighten his burden. Her hand froze on his shoulder, squeezing tightly as she spoke.

"Not this time, Ben. You're not ok, and we both know it."

He shuddered, though she wasn't sure if it was her touch or her words that caused it. From the small opening in the bond, she could feel his anxiety radiating from him. He was angry. Embarrassed. Hurt. So many negative emotions rolled within him that she struggled to name them all. He tried to shake off her hand with a roll of his shoulder as he pulled away from her. Dark, angry eyes snapped to her face.

"Leave it, Rey. I'm fine. Now, go."

Her anger was rising now, feeding off of his. His voice was harsh as he spoke, and his eyes rimmed in red. It only fed her rage. Why wouldn't he just accept her help? Why couldn't he just share his burden?

"I won't! You're getting worse and I want to help. Ben, you've helped me so much since I've joined you. Let me return the favor?"

"I told you, I'm fine!"

He was shouting now. His face was growing red in his anger. The flush spread down his neck and across his toned chest. And though she had begun to acknowledge her attraction to him in recent weeks, it spoke to her own anger that she failed to notice. Her shoulders tensed like she was preparing for a fight. Her fists clenched at her sides and her voice raised to meet his.

"Listen here, you kriffing bantha for brains! I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. I can feel just how not fine you are! Let me help you."

"You want to help? Fine! Here. Help!"

Before she could even respond, his large hands were clamped around her ears, pulling her toward him forcefully. As he pressed his forehead against hers, the bond flared completely open and she was assaulted with vision after vision. Visions of his past.

She could see Han and Leia. She could see how they interacted as a family. She could feel his growing loneliness and alienation as his powers grew. She could hear the awful voice of Snoke. Constantly whispering. Constantly telling him how worthless he was. How his parents didn't love him. How they couldn't love a monster like him. He was too powerful, and they were afraid.

The voice was the only constant with him. She saw when he was sent to Luke Skywalker. She saw how he struggled to fit in with the other children in the Jedi academy. She heard the whispers about the freakishly strong Ben Solo. She could see the fear in the other children's eyes. And she could still hear the voice of Snoke whispering away.

Failure. Weak. She could see the night that everything changed. Of course, she'd seen this before. But to experience it again with Snoke's voice in her head was harrowing. She could hear him whisper of Luke's hatred for Ben. How Ben had never been good enough to carry the Skywalker mantle.

The visions changed then, and the voices stopped. Ben was training with Snoke. The lessons were painful. Broken bones. Exhaustion. Fear. Pain. All the sensations swirled together, mixed with Snoke's voice. Worthless.

Finally, he won his position as Commander of the Knights of Ren. For the first time, he had hope. He knew he was on the correct path. He would do whatever it took to become greater than Darth Vader. He would destroy Luke Skywalker and the Jedi legacy. But his reprieve was short-lived.

She saw as he captured her on Takodana and interrogated her on Starkiller Base. She could feel his resolve weaken as they spoke. She could feel his fascination with her as she discovered the Force for the first time. And, after he set her free, she could feel the punishment that Snoke had reigned down upon him. The nightmare.

It was because of her that he had been punished and sent back out into the snow to finish what he started. It was because of her that he failed. She left him beaten and bloody in the snow. Left him to be punished again by his master. But, she could feel that he did not blame her. He held himself accountable for his failure. Weakness.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she pulled away from the visions. Pulled away from him. She knew everything now. She understood. She could see his pain just as clearly as she could see her own. The fact that he even survived was a testament to his strength. Most would wither and die under the torment he endured.

But, he began to pull away again, misinterpreting her silence. She wouldn't let that happen. She sacrificed so much for him. She wouldn't let him suffer alone. Without thinking, she pulled him back toward her, clinging to his broad back as she cried on his shoulder.

He stiffened against her. She could feel the battle within him, debating on whether or not he should pull away. And, she felt when he lost. His arms wrapped around her in a desperate embrace. She only held him tighter as she whispered against his shoulder.

"Ben. You're not alone and you're certainly not weak."

He shook his head in protest. She tried her best to be patient with him. She wanted to help him work through his issues, not push him away. She would give him all the time he needed. But, he startled her as he spoke, voice low and rough.

"I've done so many horrible things. I've been complacent in so many atrocities. How can you sit here with all I'm guilty of?"

"Because I care about you. I want to be there for you. I want to help you. Don't you see it? You're getting better."

She could feel his shock resonate through the bond. He felt like he didn't deserve forgiveness. He thought he deserved punishment. That's when she realized. The nightmares were his way of punishing himself. He was forcing himself to relive all the horrible things he had done, that had been done to him, as punishment.

"I'm not. It's only getting harder. The nightmares are getting worse."

"Because you're getting better. You're drawing closer to the light. Don't you see? If you weren't, if you were still hiding in all that darkness, you wouldn't care about the pain you've caused."

He was close to a breakthrough. She could feel it. She let the Force guide her, hoping against hope she wouldn't say the wrong thing and push him away. They were so close.

"You can't change the past, but you can learn from it. You can become a better person. Let me help you, Ben. Please."

She felt his sigh of defeat in her bones. He wouldn't speak it, but he would agree. He nodded his ascent against her shoulder and she squeezed him tighter in response. He would survive this, she would make sure of it.

She held him a moment longer before pulling away and standing from his bunk. He met her eyes then, finally facing her and his fears. She could feel it again, his doubt creeping in. His large hand caught her wrist.

"Stay. Please."

She regarded him for only a moment before nodding. She discarded her cloak and boots at the side of his bunk before climbing in next to him. He only stared at her a moment as she lay back against his pillows before joining her, his head resting on her shoulder.

His relief echoed through the bond. She feared this development would be awkward. But, when his large arm slung across her waist and pulled her closer, she only felt relief. He clung to her like a lifeline. And, as she relaxed, she ran her fingers through his thick hair in what she hoped was a soothing manner. He relaxed almost immediately.

"I won't leave you, Ben. You're not alone. Not anymore."

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#reylo #reylo fanfics #reylo au #WBW Writes #TLOL WBW

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marril96 · 5 years

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Flawed, Petty, Formerly Evil Creature

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena is having a bad day.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

Rowena was in one of her moods.

Lips puckered up in a small pout and eyes narrowed in a childish scowl were a dead giveaway.

She was pissed, a storm, dangerous, deadly, brewing inside, rummaging, raging, a glass full to the brim the lightest touch away from spilling over.

It didn't stop you from saying, in a cheerful, happy tone, "Hey, beautiful," and carelessly plopping down next to her on the couch.

Rowena had a fiery temper, but she wasn't dangerous. Not to you. Never to you.

You were the only person who had the privilege to poke and prod at her when she was like this and live to tell the tale.

Dating the deadliest witch around had its perks.

"Hey," she said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.

No smile grazed her mouth at the compliment. No light sparked in her eyes. As if she hadn't even registered what you'd said, other than that it was a greeting.

Something was definitely wrong.

"You okay?" you asked. A redundant question, but a — hopefully — good enough opening to a conversation.

"No," Rowena replied, blunt as ever. She rarely sugar-coated things.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She did, however, make them difficult.

You sighed. It seemed you were going to have to fish the truth out of her. "Rowena," you said in that tone that let her know that you knew she wanted to talk and she was being a brat and you would like her to stop because you weren't born yesterday, thank you very much.

Rowena rolled her eyes dramatically, her way of saying she didn't care.

"Want me to leave you alone?"

You hoped she didn't. You hadn't seen her — properly seen her — since last night. She'd woken up early this morning and had gone shopping, leaving a note on the kitchen table to let you know she'd be out for the first half of the day.

And now that she was back, she was grumpy.

You just wanted to spend time with your girl. Was that too much to ask?

"I would very much appreciate that, seeing what a nuisance you are!" Rowena snapped.

She might as well have stabbed you with an iron dagger straight to the heart.

Hurt, lightheaded, you uttered, "Fine," and got up to leave.

Her hand was on your wrist, tight, holding you in place. "Wait. I'm sorry."

She sounded it, and when you looked down, her face was the picture of regret.

"Please, stay."

Shaking her hand off for no reason other than to be pissy, to pay her back for the insult, you sat back down.

"I'm sorry," Rowena repeated. A difficult feat for her, you knew. She rarely — almost never — said sorry. She must have truly meant it. "I didn't mean that."

And just like that, your anger was gone in a flash. You could never stay mad at her for long. Not when she apologized and gave you those puppy eyes that melted your insides into a mush.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"I'm having a horrible day," she all but whined.

Poor baby. You wanted to pet her head and tell her it was okay, that she was a good girl who deserved nothing but the best, and the bad day could go to hell.

That was a tad too dramatic, so you settled for taking hold of her hand.

"Did you have a nightmare?" you asked softly.

"No. I just slept bad," Rowena said. "I woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep." She pouted. "And I stubbed my toe!"

You instinctively looked down to her feet and cringed. Her pinky toe was redder than her hair.

"Ouch," you said.

"Yes. Ouch," she repeated, deadpan.

"Want me to kiss it better?" you teased.

Her response was a slap to your shoulder.

"Ow!" you exclaimed, laughing. Childish little lady, she was.

Rowena scowled, not happy to be ridiculed on a bad day, and said, "This is serious, Y/N! And there's more. That wee store I love — you know the one — they didn't have the dress I wanted! I wanted the red one and they were all out!"

The shock, the horror!

However would she survive this horrible ordeal?

"Then, on the way home, it started raining!" she continued with her rant. Pointing to her bangs, she said, "It ruined my fringe!"

They looked fine to you. A tad messy, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a comb. Or a finger.

But then, you weren't exactly a hair expert. That, and everything else beauty-related, was Rowena's department.

"And then," she continued dramatically, "I got attacked by a dog!"

That shook you. "What?"

"Uh-huh," Rowena said with a nod, face twisted in an uneasy grimace as she recalled the incident. "That beast from down the street!"

"The Hamiltons' chow chow?"

They were a young family with an arguably big but harmless dog. He wagged his fluffy tail happily every time you walked by and, even though you weren't too fond of animals you weren't acquainted with, you'd gotten to pet him a few times. The Hamilton children often played with him; there never seemed to be any outbursts of violence or similar issues.

"Aye," Rowena said dramatically. "The bloody thing jumped me"

"Did he hurt you?" you asked, concerned.

She shook her head. "He ruined my outfit and got hairs all over me"

Oh. Trying hard not to laugh (the image of her dripping wet and covered in dog hairs was one that would stick with you for a while), as well as roll your eyes (the temptation was hard to resist), you said, "Rowena, he didn't attack you — he was playing with you!"

The dog had a tendency to do that. His size could be quite intimidating, especially to someone as tiny as Rowena, but he wasn't a danger.

She knew that. She knew him.

"He wanted to eat me!" Rowena said indignantly. "Licked my bloody makeup off!"

You chuckled, unable to hold back. "He was being friendly."

"He was being a menace, is what he was. Like you!" she accused and pointed a finger straight at your chest.

"What did I do?"

"You're siding with a rabid dog over me!"

Because the rabid dog's not a drama queen. "C'mon, babe. You know I'm always on your side," you told her, flashing a playful grin.

"Lies!" she said theatrically. "All lies! You prefer that monster to me."

You couldn't help a laugh. "My little drama queen," you teased and pressed a big, wet kiss to the tip of her nose. She scrunched up her face adorably, and you melted. The woman, as difficult and opinionated as she was, was too damn cute for her own good.

"I feel like you're making fun of me," she said with a pout.

"Never." Always. "Just teasing you 'cause you're so tease-able."

Rowena huffed. "Rude."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're having a bad day."

"And you're making it worse!" she accused.

"Oh, really?" An idea popped up in your mind. "How about I make it better?"

Rowena raised an eyebrow, sceptical. Suspicious.

She knew you too well.

Before she could respond, your hands were on her, all over her, touching — rubbing — everywhere in a flurry of tickles. She tried to bat at them, tried to get you to stop, to leave her be, but all attempts were futile.

You tickled her armpits, her tummy, her sides, fingers gliding and sliding over her shirt, under it, a restless, incessant attack.

You thought she would snap at you to leave her alone.

Instead, after a few moments of rolling her eyes and slapping at your wandering hands, she giggled.

And giggled and giggled and giggled until tears spilled from her eyes and her face lit up with joy, gloom and despair all but forgotten. Now it was all laughter, all fun, all happiness.

You laughed along as you curled your fingers against her skin over and over, eliciting joyful little squeaks that made your heart swell up with warmth.

Rowena was difficult to handle. She was opinionated and arrogant, a drama queen if you ever knew one.

Picky.

Childish.

Bratty.

A flawed, petty, formerly evil creature.

And yours.

Truly, unapologetically yours.

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @wayward-kaia @angel7376 @rowenaisfabulous @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @melisandre02 @a-queen-and-her-throne

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #spn family #my fics #fanfiction

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ardent-apprentice · 5 years

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Sol, The Ardent Apprentice

A short story by: Ominous_The_Unknown

In the magical world of Runeterra, mountains move, forests come alive, the dead assault the living, and reality sometimes fractures to give a brief glimpse to the horrible Void beyond. But even though the arcane energies course through all the nations, there is no other place quite as whimsical like Bandle City, the central hub of Yordle life. Across the lands, these short creatures are seen in a multitude of different perspectives. Forest fae-folk, mischievous imps, urban legends, valiant warriors, and heinous villains, Yordles always seem to be synonymous with some kind of outstanding trait that makes them outstanding in their own right.

During their early, formative years, young Yordles quickly come to find what makes them unique from one another and once they do, they soon set themselves down the path to honing their skills to try and become the best in their craft. Of course, not every Yordle specialized in entirely different things. It was common for some to be gifted a knack for tinkering and invention much like the great minds of Heimerdinger, Rumble or Ziggs. Others were given more physical, combative skills like Tristana or Teemo. And of course, there was the occasional magic user like Lulu. But what happens when your talent doesn’t manifest when it should? What happens when the people around you develop some kind of magnificent skill when you are left with nothing?

Sol was forced to ask himself this question many times over when he realized that the other young Yordles around him were attaining their unique abilities whereas he had none. In the beginning, he was assured that he would find his niche soon enough, but time passed and he still found himself left in the dust. He would watch as others were able to conjure small balls of energy, create phantasmal elemental displays, briefly summon ethereal aurora-like creatures, or even infuse machines to give them extra vigor. It wasn’t long before the older Yordles decided to properly study him. A few of the more astute researchers of the city came together and performed a few tests on him, hoping to find the answer.

Then, to Sol’s horror, he was finally given the bad news.

Unlike the others, the charcoal gray yordle was magically inept and lacked a mana pool to draw the necessary arcane energies do anything noteworthy. At that very moment, it was as if the weight of Mount Targon was set upon the Yordle’s heart. The information was a curse that forced Sol to watch helplessly as his close friends became apprentices to some of Bandle City’s champions while he was subjected to a mundane and unfulfilling life. Even at a young age, Sol felt that his dreams of becoming some well known Yordle had been destroyed. He grappled with the idea for a while and in the end, he outright refused to accept it.

Bitterness and envy slowly slithered into the young Yordle’s heart, poisoning him ever so slightly, but instead of letting it destroy him, Sol used it to push onwards. Soon it became apparent that what Sol lacked in magical prowess, he made up for in tenacity, boldness, and creativity. Bullies would, of course, try to take advantage of him or tease him as they flaunted their skills in front of him. The name-calling, the minor physical altercations, the laughter, it stung, but Sol relied on the fact that they underestimated him so that he could beat them at their own games.

If anything, his newfound strength despite his lack of mana actually made him stand out more because he would do everything in his power to ensure that no one looked down on him. He refused to sulk, he refused pity, and above all else, he sought to break the fate that had been cruelly handed to him. Within the Yordle, a sort of bullheaded attitude emerged as he sought to absorb as much information as possible to see if anything triggered some latent talent hidden within. Archery, crafting, smithing, politics, Sol would attempt to learn everything. Even when he didn’t become a master at it, he at least came away with some experience. Ultimately, this meant that Sol became known as a jack-of-all-trades.

But once Sol became an adolescent, he realized that his accumulated skills still weren’t enough. Instead of continuing to study within the small confines of Bandle City. the abnormal Yordle made the decision to explore the world. Many people within the city knew that it was possible and that even some of the more famous Yordles had survived to become rather huge stars in other cities, but it was still a risky decision. The elders of the city said he was a fool and that without forging his own unique talent that he would quickly die without any ability to protect himself, but Sol’s close friends knew that because of his myriad of skills that he would forge his own path.

The young Yordle quickly assembled enough equipment and other necessities and bid a fond farewell to Bandle City and its inhabitants before he journeyed outwards. He would find new mentors, make new friends and discover what was truly hidden deep within him.

---------------------------------------------

There were many limitations to being a Yordle. In some places they were seen as normal living beings with rights, others they were a myth and in a select few they were abhorred and either cast out like plague bearers or maybe even attacked on sight. With that in mind, there were unwritten rules for traveling abroad as a Yordle.

The first and probably most important rule is to never reveal oneself as a Yordle. Information travels slowly through Runeterra, and even though some progressive regions accepted all races that was not the case for the majority of the world. To socialize, most traveling Yordles were often given a magical glamour that would simply disguise them as short humans. There were some fringe cases of course, like the valiant Poppy, deranged Kled and estranged Lulu, but that was mostly because they were more than capable of defending themselves if they were ever threatened with violence. For other Yordles, physical altercations were best avoided.

Even with a rather large list of practical skills, without magical energy Sol’s friends and family knew that it would be best if he traveled prepared. Before departing, Sol was gifted an enchanted pendant that could accomplish such a task, but he soon discovered that his mana deficiency would cause issues. The glamour itself very slowly used up the wearer’s mana when being used, and in most cases, a regular Yordle could wear it for as long as they wanted since they would regenerate the energy just as fast as it was being depleted. So in Sol’s case, he could only activate the pendant for a few days before his body ran out of mana to power it, then he would have to travel as his regular fuzzy, self to recharge. There were many instances where that proved to be a huge disadvantage, but during his adventure, he just learned ways to work around it.

Along with the stigma against his species, Sol also began to interact with various living creatures in the world. Some were warm and kind, others brave warriors filled with courage and honor, while a select few had bitterness and anger brewing within them. The growing Yordle had to observe and catalog every interaction as he started to develop his own set of rules to operate by when he revisited certain locations. His tome of rules slowly grew over time and he would openly share them with fellow Yordles that he happened to come across during his travels, for example:

Never challenge a Noxian. Their hardy nature makes them competitive and their bloodthirsty traits mean it won’t take much until they lose their temper and draw a weapon.

If a Bilgewater pirate questions if you’re a Yordle, tell them you’re just small hairy and that they’re too drunk to tell. Also, always keep a few golden krakens with you whether you believe in their superstition or not, it may just save your life.

No matter how furry you are, always wear warm layers when traveling in Freljord and try to stay dry. Wet fur can turn into solid chunks of ice if you’re not careful.

STAY AWAY FROM THE SHADOW ISLES AT ALL COSTS

When in Piltover or Zaun, try to wear a magical glamour or at the very least wear a disguise. Both places demonize Yordles and have even imprisoned them.

Piltover is nice, but there are many flashy hypocrites there who don’t know what they’re doing. However, you can always go to Heimerdinger at his laboratory for a safe haven since he’s a well-known researcher there.

Zaun is dangerous for a litany of reasons, like roving madmen, and a bloodthirsty chimera wolf-thing and just rampant lawlessness. Also, be careful of friendly fire when traveling in Zaun, Ziggs is known to go crazy there from time to time.

Sol’s notebook was starting to become an epic in its own right as it documented his travels day by day, carried numerous errata and inserted trinkets and drawings. His accumulated skills also made him a rather valuable asset in most situations as he was able to make himself useful in dire situations. Despite his short stature, Sol was able to repair a ship’s sail during a storm, cook meals for the less fortunate, and even help build makeshift shelters. Even though he wasn’t exactly perfect at the job, the mere fact that he would always volunteer to help and put himself out on the field made him very likable.

He found himself partaking in many different adventures as he followed his heart and traveled all around the world. Sol had spent some time helping on a fishing boat, infiltrating bandit camps to save captured Yordles or even cavorting in ancient ruins to find treasure or long lost secrets. If anything, the exploration of it all appealed to him the most and he loved to dig deep into the history of long dead people and inspect the artifacts that they left behind. When he sometimes came into contact with ancient relics, they would flicker or light up as the energies bound within them were somehow stirred to life, but strangely enough, when he handed those very same items to his compatriots, the object would go silent. Sol would also discover old scrolls or books written in dead languages, but just after studying the strange iconography and hieroglyphs, he seemed to understand what they meant and in some cases could even pronounce them. Sol just attributed this to his litany of skills that he had built up though and didn’t think much of it. He never bothered to inspect the magical items further, since he knew that his minuscule amount of mana would never unlock the secrets within them.

During one period, Sol had discovered a faded map of some ancient civilization in a nearby forest. He spent a week studying the language printed on it by reviewing what information he had and he deduced that there must be some kind of treasure hidden within. Sol gathered his belongings and started to move headstrong into the brush before he finally came upon his destination in a matter of two days. Using his uncanny ability to read the hieroglyphs and understand the ornate designs of the art on the walls, the charcoal black Yordle was able to avoid or even disarm most of the traps laid within the ruins before he finally discovered a hidden room with old leather-bound tome displayed on a plinth.

Even though Sol was unsure of the book’s origin, he could at least surmise that it was important and the instant he set his hands on it, multicolored energy cascaded out of it in an aurora-like tornado. The book opened as light poured out of its pages and wisps of power trailed out into the world beyond. As the pages rapidly flipped in front of him, the Yordle looked on with confused awe as he realized that he was somehow barely reading the words as they flew past him. His lips began to move on their own as the energy within the pages abated and appeared to listen. But even then it was still too much.

Sol had no idea how it was possible, but he could feel the energy pulsing through his veins before it started to become a searing hot pain that radiated through his arms and into his chest. The dark gray Yordle found himself unable to let go of the book, which brought a fresh wave of panic over him. He could feel his very life essence getting immolated from within as the foreign energies burnt to brightly inside of him.

As he was about to pass out from the pain born of the immense power another aura entered the room. For a brief moment, a dark purple and green energy appeared before a bolt of arcane power shot out of the darkness and collided with the book in his hands. The force of the blast was enough to blast the book out of Sol’s hands before it spiraled away as a burning heap. Sol crumpled to the ground, chest heaving and his vision blurring as he barely registered a figure approaching him.

Clad in dark purple garb with a large wizard’s cap atop his midnight black fur, the infamous Yordle Veigar came forward and looked down at the fallen adventurer. Before Sol could speak though, the world around him faded to black as he slipped into unconsciousness.

----------------------

III

By the time Sol woke up, he found himself in a candle-lit abode somewhere within some kind of intricate cave system. His body ached but he was at least thankful he could still move. He lay atop a creaky old bed, with some decrepit bookcases and drawers to act as furniture. Everything seemed to be secondhand, scavenged and mismatched, and yet whoever assembled everything at least took the time to clean the dust away somewhat. He could remember an infinite well of power being poured into his body. So much power that it was actually agonizing.

Without any introduction, Veigar began to berate Sol for how foolish he was being. The dark master of evil wasted no time in explaining how the tome was cleverly hidden trap meant to entice any curious magic user into coming into contact with it all for the sake of burning them from the inside out. He then expounded that if it wasn’t for him, Sol would’ve been turned into a pile of ashes on the ruin floor.

The only reason why Veigar had decided to intervene was that he noticed something strange about the trap that Sol had sprung. He explained that the book worked by manipulating a person’s innate mana pool to disrupt the inner balance within it. What he found interesting was that Sol didn’t explode as he thought he would and instead somehow started to read the text even though it was a long-dead language. Veigar then immediately began to question Sol’s identity and how he was able to not only read but speak the dead tongue but to his surprise, the dark gray Yordle could offer no solid answer.

“I just have a knack for it I guess.” Was Sol’s answer as he gave a nervous chuckle.

His answer only made Veigar raise an eyebrow skeptically before he let out an irritated sigh and reached into his coat. He then withdrew what looked like an old bone with odd letters scryed into it before he tossed it carelessly at Sol. The injured Yordle yelped as he just barely managed to catch it but the instant he saw the letters the gears began to turn in his head. It was another dialect vastly different from the ones he had seen in the book previously and yet there was some odd feeling of familiarity to them. Before Sol could ask what it was, Veigar also took out his short staff and began to focus malicious power into it. The Tiny Master of Evil then pointed the empowered end of the staff at Sol’s face before he demanded that he read the letters.

Panic immediately consumed Sol as his eyes widened and he assured Veigar that he just had a faint clue as to what the letters meant, but he could already see that the pitch black Yordle did not believe him. Sol could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as the heat from Veigar’s magic staff brushed against his fur. He knew that reasoning wouldn’t work, so Sol looked down at the ancient bone and did his best to try and divine the meaning behind the letters.

To his surprise, everything began to click for the charcoal gray Yordle as it seemed like the ancient inscriptions somehow morphed into the words and letters that he was familiar with. Unsure as to how it was possible, Sol didn’t care and simply began to recite the words on the bone, hoping that it would appease his captive. The more Sol spoke, the candles in the room began to burn brighter before they shifted into a lavender hue. He continued to read the words before Veigar finally snatched it out of his hands and snickered.

Scared and confused, Sol asked the mage what just happened as Veigar just smirked at him. He was able to somehow divine the meaning behind dead languages before, but what he had done was on an entirely different level. Veigar then explained that somehow, someway, Sol’s innate trait was the ability to read and tap into the magic trapped within ancient artifacts. His lack of a large mana pool actually made him the perfect conduit for oddities and enchanted items to flow and mesh with him.

To further prove his point, the pitch black Yordle went over to one of the nearby shelves and carelessly pulled out of the book before he threw it at Sol. He explained that many of the books that he had procured over the years were magical in nature and most were inscribed in foreign languages both living and dead. Sol gingerly opened the book up to a random page and to his surprise, he could understand the words in there as well. Next, Veigar took what looked like an orb of polished onyx and handed it to Sol. From what the mage knew, information within the book could unlock the true potential of the artifact and he asked that Sol read a passage to see if anything happened.

Nervous, but now somehow energized at realizing his dormant talent, Sol carefully read the text before he slowly began to say the words. As he did, the orb began to vibrate and emit a low hum until it started to float.

Giddy smiles spread across both Sol and Veigar’s face at the sight of the activated artifact before the black furred Yordle crossed his arms. He then gave Sol the opportunity of a lifetime by asking if he wanted to become his apprentice and help unlock and master the magic-infused within all of the items that he discovered. Feeling that he already owed the mage a debt for saving his life, Sol gladly accepted the offer and soon his real work began.

Once he was fully healed, Sol would spend hours pouring over books, scrolls, and engraved tablets while at the same time handling and coaxing the magic out of ancient artifacts and weapons. To both his and Veigar’s surprise, he was able to unlock their true potential fairly easily as the dead languages flowed from his mouth and further accelerated his learning. Sol’s arsenal of artifacts soon grew over the years as he and Veigar traveled around, collecting items and deciphering old script as the charcoal gray Yordle was perfectly content with being a lexicon of antiquated knowledge.

#world building #league of legends #LoL #yordle #veigar

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 6 years

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This post is full of misinformed, misinterpreted and out of context shit.

· There is NO hard canonical timeline for Peter’s ages for when he began acting as a hero. At best sources stating he was 15 upon getting his powers and ASm #400’s backup strip claiming that he was 16 the night he caught the burglar is how you can arrive at the conclusion he aged into being 16 by the time he began acting as a hero. But it’s vague as fuck and both 15 and 16 are retcons. Originally Peter was written to be a senior in the Ditko run. However it makes more sense if Peter was 15 both when he got his powers and when he began acting as a hero as Mysterio (debuting in ASM #13) claimed in ASM #24 that he’s hated Spider-Man for years implying at least 2 years elapsed between that issue and his debut

· Spider-Man circa the time this post was written was not 30 years old. He was actually older than that if you do the math properly. Do not be fooled by Learning to Crawl’s assertion he was merely 28 circa 2014 he was actually 30 years old circa OMD in 2007. So no he has egregiously more than 14 years worth of experience.

· The list of characters Peter’s been active longer than is highly flawed due to the inclusion of Captain America, the Guardians and Jessica Jones.

Whilst the essential sentiment is accurate it’s misleading because Jessica Jones first appearance was not when she canonically began to be active in the silver age (the 1960s). Captain America of course was active in WWII and then put on ice until the early days of the Marvel Age where the F4 debuted meaning he was most experienced by like decades ahead of Spider-Man. And the Guardians debut date listed is in reference to the ORIGINAL Guardians of the Galaxy. These Guardians were not Gamora, Star-Lord, Groot, etc. These were a group of heroes from the far future of an alternate marvel universe.

So great research there.

· The post states that 5 years real time = 1 year for the MU. Actually it’s 4 OR 5 and more commonly 4

· Yes Spider-Man was indeed widely disliked by most heroes but the OP idiotically claims it was because he was a jerk.

No. It was because Jameson slandered his name. Spider-Man’s jerkish behaviour was the result of three major factors.

Firstly it was the fact that many heroes outright disrespected him. for instance the Avengers not only insulted him verbally and antagonized him but they had the audacity to try and test his worthiness to join their team after only recently accepting former criminals Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch and Hawkeye onto their team. As a reminder the former two were affiliated with mutant terrorist Magneto and the latter with Communist spy Black Widow. None of them were ever tested, the Maximoffs just wrote a letter asking to join and that was it.

Secondly in the Silver and Bronze age ALL heroes in Marvel were jerks to one another. It was a conscious effort to differentiate themselves from DC. It isn’t something to be taken too seriously.

Thirdly Peter was well beyond most other heroes straining under immense pressures which would serve to make ANYONE uptight. These were pressures most other heroes simply never dealt with.

· The OP claims Peter picked fights to prove how tough and manly he was. This is not only ignorant of 1960s societal standards for the time but is also an overly comdemnatory reading of the character

See these for more on that

https://hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger.tumblr.com/post/163322233001/in-a-recent-exchange-i-had-with-somebody-they

https://hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger.tumblr.com/post/168252199132/fyeahspiderverse-ask-me-ask-me-ask#notes

This poster takes an oversimplified and highly pretentious sociological approach to the character that is ignorant of the character’s proper in context psychology or how many real life people would think, feel or act.

Noticably (and this is much later on in the post) she talks about the character revelling in violence when MOST superheroes are just like that and more poignantly the ‘revelling’ involved is a character harming objectively evil people the overwhelming majority of the time.

He gets brutal in the course of a brutal life dealing with brutal people doing horribly brutal things.

Does he lose his temper from time to time?

Yeah...but EVERY PERSON ON EARTH DOES THAT...and most people on Earth are not coping with the insane levels of personal stress being placed upon Spider-Man.

The OP I am willing to bet does not deal with anything CLOSE to the amount of horrible experiences and stresses Spider-Man himself does.

· The OP paints Peter is a disgustingly negative light. Listing how he is oudmouthed, proud, independent, stubborn, touchy, cocky, judgmental, and he has one hell of a temper that he typically can barely keep under control. He has a firm sense of justice, of what’s right and what’s wrong, and if he’s made up his mind, he will not budge.

This is BS because not only are there numerous instances of Peter having his mind changed but Peter being ‘touchy’ is usually owed a fuckton more to the situations he finds himself in and the stresses he’s coping with. FFS Peter for the first 18 years of his life has no friends and was bullied and ostracised. OF COURSE HE’D BE TOUCHY!

Similarly his’ barely controllable temper’ was a feature more during the silver and bronze age when writing standards for many superheroes was very different from what it’d later evolve into and the character was a lot younger too.

YES Peter has had moments where his temper breaks in later stories but they were situational.

But what’s gross about the OP is that she lists of all this stuff as part of Peter’s personality and then lists nothing else.

Nothing else.

Peter’s kindness?

Peter’s sense of loyalty?

Peter’s sense of you know...responsibility?

Peter’s sheer decency?

Peter’s ‘never say die’ attitude?

Peter’s sense of humour?

Peter’s fondness for learning?

Peter NOT being as judgemental as the OP is grossly pretending he is considering he never once held Flash Thompson once assaulting his girlfriend, Betty cheating on her husband or many other bad things his friends have done against them?

Which showcases an incredibly forgiving nature to the character.

· The OP claims Spider-Man REVELS in violence and loves fighting.

No Spider-Man loves blowing off steam with action which MOST superheroes do. It’s not a Peter thing it’s a genre convention thing and needs to be properly looked at WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF THE GENRE CONVENTIONS of the series and Marvel in general.

Does Spider-Man love beating up bad guys?

I think he certainly gets a certain thrill out of it, but he rarely seriously injures them unless the situation is serious or else he’s been pushed hard.

In the 1980s the violence Peter was witnessing in various street crimes actually served to seriously affect him and he wanted to quit.

Shit he’s wanted to quit COUNTLESS times and it’s his sense of responsibility that keeps him in the game.

That is NOT someone who just ‘loves’ fighting or ‘revels’ in violence.

· “He punches first and asks questions much, much later. ”

Again bullshit. Not only have there been instances where Spidey has asked questions first but this interpretation of Spider-Man is extremely flawed not only because it doesn’t properly contextualize genre conventions of the superhero genre (Daredevil and Batman are as ‘guilty’ of this as Spider-Man) but also because 99% of the crimes Spider-Man ‘punches first’ he catches red handed in the middle of the act.

He doesn’t need to ask questions if he sees someone in a ski mask with a gun holding up someone screaming in an alleyway.

He doesn’t need to ask questions when he sees what is obviously a bank robbery in progress.

He doesn’t need to ask questions first if the Rhino is rampaging in Times Square.

It’s OBVIOUS what is happening so his immediate intervention is neccesarry.

· The OP claims Spidey “goes out every night LOOKING for people to beat to a bloody pulp. It’s like his therapy, where he works out his many anger issues (I could write a whole essay on where those come from).”

First of all the OP couldn’t write a whole essay on where Spider-Man’s anger issues come from since she patently misunderstands Spider-Man.

Secondly beating up criminals isn’t Spider-Man’s ‘therepy’ it’s Spider-Man’s way of helping people by reducing the crime rate and protecting innocent civilians.

See ASm #50 where he retires briefly and crime rates spike.

See ASm #500 where he chooses to not prevent his younger self from becoming Spider-Man due to how many people wouldn’t be saved by him.

See EVERY SPIDER-MAN STORY EVER!

Spider-Man doesn’t go out every night looking to beat people to a bloody pulp.

I’m a Liberal and even I think that’s overliberalized bullshit.

If you actually pay attention Spider-Man rarely draws blood when going out on patrol let alone causes any serious physical trauma whatsoever.

More importantly going out on patrol looking for ‘people to beat up’ isn’t his fucking hobby. That’s him using his powers to help people by fighting crime...like the kind that got his Uncle Ben killed perhaps. Fucking idiot.

· “He is not afraid of the unsuperpowered criminals he hunts down because they literally CANNOT LAY A FINGER ON HIM AND HE KNOWS IT AND ALWAYS HAS.”

Yeah.

Remember all those times ‘unsuperpowered criminals’ like the Kingpin or the Enforcers or the Foreigner or Captain fucking America never hit him once?

· “The criminals are terrified of HIM. ”

Some are, some are not.

He isn’t Batman, it’s more they know they have little chance of avoiding capture if Spider-Man’s there. They aren’t actually afraid of him in the way the term ‘terrified’ implies.

They are afraid of him the way they are afraid of Superman. They know Superman isn’t going to hurt them much if at all but they know they’re in for jail if they cross him.

· “He is unstoppable when he’s angry.”

Is that why Daredevil was able to defeat him in the Death of Jean DeWolff when he was angry?

· OP uses Peter complaining how normal crooks are boring as an example of Spider-Man inherent personality and as an example to again paint him in a negative light.

This is BS because the issue is premeditated upon building up his pride before Doc Ock kicks his ass and humbles him.

He rarely if ever displays that kind of attitude towards regular criminals again.

This is also a TEENAGER displaying TEENAGE pride. There is nothing damning about that.

Oh but the character must’ve just inherently been that forever more obviously.

· OP uses Untold Tales #13 as an example of how ‘toxically violent’ Spider-Man is.

Again ignores context.

Spider-Man is a teenager who recently lost his Dad who’s school peer who was his own age violently died very recently and so he was grieving and lashing out.

I knew kids who were children of divorce who lashed out.

That was cause for understanding by my teachers and fellow students.

Peter was dealing with worse but he’s painted negatively and as though this is something inherent to him in this very extenuating circumstance. And he’s comdened by the OP for it. Gross.

Also the OP pretends Spider-Man almost killed the villain in question. He didn’t there is no indication of that. Spidey used too much force after he’d already won but he was never implied to be inflicting any really serious physical trauma.

· The most disgusting thing in the post so far, OP tries to pretend there is a problematic and inherent ‘pattern’ of Peter’s violence by citing how Peter almost killed Norman Osborn after Gwen died.

First of all there was no pattern because Peter didn’t almost kill the Untold Tales villain.

Second of all Peter was DELIBERATELY trying to muder the Green Goblin.

Third of all both instances involve Peter grieving.

Fourth of all the GG incident was when his almost fiancée had just been MURDERED before his eyes by the target of his anger.

Literally ANYONE would’ve felt the same way Peter did.

The OP treats people becoming violently angry against objectively evil people when they have or are very seriously threatening to do horrific things (like murdering innocent people, particularly those Spider-Man has an emotional investment in) as ‘problematic’.

It’s problematic in so far as we shouldn’t ALLOW people in society to go around doing that.

It isn’t problematic in so far as it speaks to inherent negative traits within those people who want to or actually do do those things.

Because let’s not lie to ourselves here.

If someone murdered someone you loved...you’d be angry. You’d want to hurt them. And if they were right in front of you shortly after they’d murdered your loved one and you could you’d inflict pain upon them.

Real talk every parent ever would agree if they’re child was hurt or god forbid abused or murdered they’d want to kill the person who did that.

And the OP disgustingly ignores how Peter DIDN’T kill the Goblin and acknowledged how he almost crossed a serious line having already gone too far.

· OP brings up ANOTHER instance where Spider-Man gets angry and violent to again unsubtley imply it’s so problematic.

Yes in this instance Spider-Man used force unnecessarily whilst angry.

He however inflicted no lasting damage and the person he used it on had just murdered an innocent man who had a family.

· “ASM #177, where, as you can see, he’s downright contemptuous of other people’s attempts to harm him”

Contemptuous was an interpretation of the OP, not something hardcore without a doubt the emotion Spider-Man was going with.

Frankly in the panels showcased i’d say Spidey was more surprised and mocking towards the guy who was again...a huge asshole.

He believed it was his friend Harry who was from Peter’s POV betraying his friendship, had tried to harma dn murder him, Aunt May, Flash and MJ in the past, had hospitalized MJ and at that PARTICULAR moment in the story was wasting Peter’s time as Aunt May’s life was hanging in the balance.

So yes Spider-Man mocked him and hit him.

Shockingly you are allowed to hit people sometimes FFS.

Oh and btw the issue number wasn’t even correct.

· OP uses ASM #189 to further support their case. This is one example where I WOULD agree that the panels legitimately support the agenda they are trying to push.

The problem is that the panels are also OOC.

Spider-Man had never to my recollection ever acted this was towards a doctor before and only particular situations had served to spur him to act this way.

This was part of the Marv Wolfman run where to be brutally honest there was more than a little OOC writing of many characters and an over all regressive approach to Spider-man in particular.

He’s MORE rash and MORE aggressive and MORE of a jerk than he’d been in a long ass time even under Stan Lee’s tenure.

And this made sense because Wolfman pretentiously regarded himself as a Ditko ‘purist’ who believed Spider-Man should never have left high school. And so he wrote Spider-Man in a regressive way to the point where often times, like in the referenced panel from ASM #189 he acted in ways that didn’t make sense for a 22 year old written for 1979 standards vs a teenager written for 1963 standards.

Further proof can be observed in how his writing for Mary jane in her rejection of Peter’s proposal played as though she never developed from the silver age onwards.

· “ASM #193 – this is VERY 616 Peter. He’s frustrated with his personal life, so he decides to take it out (violently) on a bad guy:”

Again...Wolfman’s run, but in this case he is not doing anything particularly wrong within the genre and societal conventions of the time.

Genre conventions dictated that in superhero comic book land hitting criminals is 100% okay because they are bad guys.

Therefore since Spider-Man does that anyway, venting his frustrations into something productive is also okay.

Societal conventions dictated that this was the late 1970s and early 1980s...in New York.

70s and 80s New York was ROUGH and had problems with street crime that got more violent into the 1980s, at least according to the media.

You know how in the Daredevil Netflix show they said because of the Battle of New York Hell’s Kitchen had gone downhill?

That was because they were trying to justify modern day Hell’s Kitchen resembling the kind of dark crime ridden place it was in the 70s and 80s at the height of Daredevil’s popularity.

NYC was ROUGH and that was attributed a lot to crime and so a crime fighter like Spider-Man getting rough would’ve been regarded as fine as would him doing it to vent anger.

The angrier he gets the more criminals he beats up meaning the more go to jail meaning the streets are safer. So all the better.

That was the logic of the time period.

Remember this was the decade that spawned DIRTY HARRY!

This was a decade where Vietnam wrapped up in abject failure and Watergate broke out. People were fucking angry and disillusioned.

And to add further context Marv Wolfman wrote Superman in the 1980s post-crisis era as getting rough with criminals too because Wolfman was a child of the era where both superheroes and crime/gangster stories involved that sort of mentality. His Superman was the Golden Age one who got rough a lot and it was seen as fine because criminals were bad and therefore deserved it.

Now bear all that shit in mind when reading ASM #189...where Spider-Man in hunting down a dangerous super villain who could endure blows from him and whom he’d need to find and stop anyway...whilst he’s coping with Aunt May being in a nursing home, his relationship with MJ whom he is in love with disintegrating, his relationship with Betty also disintegrating and having just taken a punch to the jaw from Ned Leeds his old rival.

YOU CANNOT REMOVE SHIT FROM THE CONTEXT OF THE TIMES THEY WERE CREATED IN!

· More of OP being a disgenuous jerk by pretending Spider-Man losing his temper in confronting the man who murdered Uncle Ben is problematic.

“…notice how a mask seems pretty unnecessary here, despite the fact that his opponent is armed. Peter doesn’t even hesitate. He is out for blood.”

A) The Burglar was not initially unarmed he lost his gun in the scuffle depicted in the panels from the OP

B) Real talk...who WOULDN’T lose their temper confronting the guy who MURDERED THEIR DAD to the point where they’d come close to seriously injuring them?

C) Peter believed Aunt May had recently DIED and that it was at least partially his fault

D) The OP conveniently neglects that the Burglar was threatening Spider-Man with a gun a panel before Peter attacked him and that Spider-Man doesn’t have his powers in this instance. In other words shortly after his mother figure’s death an unarmed and helpless Peter Parker was confronted by an armed known killer who killed his father figure in cold blood and was threatening his life. And he’s ‘problematic’ for assaulting him angrily and threatening to kill him. Can you spell ‘self’defence’?

OP is also disingenuous because she paints Spider-Man’s rage and scary demanor as the fault of the Burglar’s death when it was just the Burglar working himself up.

Spider-Man made it explicitly clear he was NOT going to kill or maim the Burglar but the Burglar was just too worked up and had a heart attack.

· OP brings up Spec v2 #10 where Spider-Man is beating the shit out of Doc Ock....but conveniently doesn’t include the panels prior to that incident where Doc Ock pointlessly murdered an innocent police officer violently and then threatened to murder someone everyday for a year...after he nearly deliberately instigated a war between Israel and Palestine! I am NOT making that up Doc Ock nearly set off a war between Israel and Palestine just to force Spider-Man into revealing his secret identity

FFS is Spider-man REALLY this violence revelling brute for punching the shit out of him for that!

Doc Ock took an innocent life, threatened to take more and was willing to risk MILLIONS of people dying in a war that could’ve lasted years because of his own stupid ego and obsession.

Like fuck dude WAR CRIMINALS have been executed for less than that but SPIDER-MAN is a violence addict because he punched Doc Ock a bit and humiliated him?

Look real talk Spidey making Doc Ock ‘ask him nicely’ was OOC (the OP doesn’t seem to realize such a thing could ever possibly happen) but even if it wasn’t it doesn’t prove the OP’s point because the CONTEXT OF THE SITUATION MATTERS.

· “ASM #522, where he loses his temper and throws Wolverine out of a window:”

Yes.

First thing in the morning after he’s been woken up abruptly by the worrying and mind boggling news that his wife has been sleeping with Tony Stark the guy who’s been insulting him on and off for awhile and who is now very directly insulting his pride and his beloved, long suffering wife (who’s lived through hell for him and has saved his life a million times too).

And he does the equivalent of punching the guy.

How ‘problematic’ and ‘toxic’ that must be.

Gimme a break.

Also remember Spider-Man doesn’t normally randomly punch people, even those who insult him despite the bullshit picture the OP is trying to paint.

· “ASM #539, the first issue in the “Back in Black” arc where Aunt May is shot on Kingpin’s orders, and Peter PUNCHES, INTIMIDATES, AND THREATENS HIS WAY THROUGH THE UNDERWORLD trying to figure out who was responsible. I would recommend reading this arc for a good look at Peter when he’s beyond furious”

OP disingenuously pretending that Peter when he is beyond furious is Spider-Man’s default setting as opposed to Spider-Man under extenuating and/or exceptional circumstances.

You know like when someone has shot his mother who is now dying and might pose a threat to yet more of his friends and family!

Like FUCK how are you so dense as to not properly contextualize shit.

· “Notice, again, the lack of a mask. Peter’s not even slightly frightened by the thought of diving into a room FULL of criminals armed with machine guns where he’s outnumbered by what looks like about 7 to 1.”

OP seemingly conveniently ignoring that in Back In Black (the story being referenced here) Spider-Man identity was public so it doesn’t matter that he didn’t have his mask

· “I find these panels more telling than Peter vs. Norman in #122 – in that one, Peter lost his temper momentarily but quickly snapped out of it and realized he didn’t have it in him to commit murder. Here, he’s completely cool. He genuinely plans to murder Kingpin. He’s thought about it. He wants to do it. He will do it without a moment’s hesitation if the need arises, if that’s what it takes to protect his family – that’s what 616 Peter does. He protects everyone around him. He takes the punishment they cannot.”

I find this part the most mind boggling of all because the OP’s statements here are not untrue but also make no sense in her characterization of Peter as toxic.

· “I could keep going with this all day, because this is who he is in the comics, but I’ll stop there. ”

Again no.

This is who Peter is at TIMES in the comics under certain circumstances and at particular points in his history. That isn’t what he is like at his regular default setting when horrible or seriously stressful or emotionally triggering things are not happening to him.

He ISN’T like this for instance in the Digger arc of JMS’ run.

He ISN’T like this in ASM #301

He ISN’T like this in ASM #41

He ISN’T like this in the Kid Who Collected Spider-Man

· “Does this angry, vengeful man who REVELS in violence really seem like he’s scared of, I don’t know, ANYONE? Don’t let the jokes fool you. Peter’s not someone you want to make angry. He is terrifying when he’s angry.”

Again OP speaks bullshit because

a) Peter doesn’t revel in violence. That’d inply real enjoyment. He at worst vents using it

b) Peter isn’t scared of anyone huh?

Sister let me introduce you to Spider-Man’s ex...and her new man.

Their shipper name...is Venom....

#Spider-Man #Venom #Eddie Brock #Green Goblin #Doctor Octopus #Peter Parker #MCu #marvel cinematic universe

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therealcalicali · 6 years

Text

REPOST FOR @TEPHI101 (Ivar, I Have Something To Tell You.” Part 3)

SINCE THE APP IS ACTING UP, YET AGAIN, THIS IS A CUT AND PASTE POSTING FOR MY GIRL @tephi101 (she inspired the damn series and can’t even read it thanks to this wonky #$^%!* app!) FIX THE ISSUES TUMBLR!!!!!

Hopefully, anyone whose app is not acting up, should be able to read the fully illustrated post here:

“IVAR I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU.” PART 3

_______________

PART 3 WARNINGS: Character Death, Murder, Threats, Violence, Domestic Violence, Angst, Cheating, Sex and Fluff

_______________

You were carried back home from the docks after hearing Ivar gloat about Harald sailing off to Wessex. It was as if in an instant, all your of strength was drained from your body and you felt sick to your stomach. Truly, you had nearly vomited due to how shocked you were at the revelation. When your legs went weak, you were very fortunate that Halfdan was standing nearby. The strong warrior was the one who caught you in his arms as you fainted. Your husband merely watched as his friend did his best to awaken you, almost mocking your reaction. When your eyes had finally fluttered open, Ivar cocked his head to the side and smiled - as if trying to decide whether to laugh maniacally or to just keep things smug. He chose the latter.

Though a concerned Halfdan asked if they should escort you back home, your husband insisted that it wasn’t necessary. He commanded some thralls to carry you back to the estate whilst he remained with his friends at the docks; watching the sunset over the ocean. Indeed, Ivar was a delighted and content man - looking ever so forward to his sweet, sweet revenge.

_________________

As you laid in bed the following evening, you stared at the ceiling still numb from Ivar’s revelation. Wessex! The way the words rolled of his tongue along with his smug smile made you sick to your stomach again. If you had the ability, you would have done anything to prevent Harald from departing Kattegat, but alas he was long gone. Now that it was evening, Ivar was busy entertaining guests at the lavish feast he had decided to throw at the last minute. In his Great Hall, he was happily celebrating his victory over you and your lover. Truly, you had never seen Ivar this genuinely happy in a long while. The only time he had been in such a good mood was when Bjorn had given him permission to marry you. Ivar’s smile had not left his face since Harald’s ship had departed. And it wasn’t the sinister smile as he typically displayed, he was TRULY happy.

As you lay on top of the furs, you clutched a silver cross that once hung form your neck - given to you by your Grandmother long ago. Ivar had forbid you to wear it any longer so you kept in hidden from him. You were determined to pray as many prayers as you could for sweet Herry. If God felt you were contrite enough and accepted your plea, perhaps he would save him by miracle.

___________

“Elizabeth. Come here a moment.” A tipsy Ivar beckoned to your little sister as she and a friend passed by his throne.

As she went to place her foot on the steps, Ivar motioned with his hand to one of the thralls who was beside him.

“You idiot! Do you not see she is with child?” He hissed as he furrowed his brow. “Help her before I toss you into the streets!”

The thrall apologized profusely as she rushed over to your sister and helped her up the steps that led to Ivar’s seat. As soon as Elizabeth was standing in front of him, Ivar angrily motioned for the thrall to get out of his presence. Turning back to your sister, he quickly softened his expression. She was truly glowing and radiated joy in both her mannerisms and expression. Her dainty hands were gently rested on her round belly as she smiled back at Ivar.

“Are you in need of something brother?” Elizabeth asked in her usual innocent manner.

“There is no need to be so far away. You are free to come closer.” Your husband beckoned as he sipped the last drops from his horn.

As he raised his hand for more mead, your sister obeyed his request. She went and stood directly in front of Ivar - as he brushed off the thrall who had finished pouring him more drink. He looked at Elizabeth and eyed her with fascination. The manner in which her petite frame now boasted heaving breasts, curves and a rounded belly, intrigued him. Indeed, Ivar thought for her to endure all these changes just to bear a child for Jonah, meant she truly loved him. Why could you not behave as she did…..Ivar pondered. Your sister always seemed accommodating to her husband and now, was giving him the ultimate gift.

Ivar stopped drinking his mead and reached out towards Elizabeth’s belly. Realizing that he wanted to feel the baby, she smiled and gently took his hand in hers. When she placed his palm on her stomach, Ivar’s eyes widened in amazement. He caressed her round and firm belly with a smile upon his face.

“It is…..remarkable.” He said as he looked up at her. “So, have they told you much longer you have?”

“Mother and the midwife say it should be five more months or so.” She sighed with a smile. “I must confess that I hope to deliver sooner than later. Being with child can be draining. I am often so tired, that I sleep more than I am awake.” She added with a giggle.

Across the Hall, sitting alone at a corner table, Jonah apprehensively watched as Ivar conversed with his wife. He feared your husband and for good reason. Ivar had the ability of taking even the happiest of occasions and destroying it in an instant with his temper. You brother-in-law hoped that whatever Ivar was speaking to Elizabeth about, would not result in something terrible being said or done. Jonah wasn’t the only person in the Hall eyeing Ivar with disdain. A quiet Hvitserk stole hateful glances at his little brother as well. Ubbe, who was seated next to him, understood why he felt animosity towards the youngest Ragnarsson.

Hvitserk, being a person who often doubted himself, had asked for advice about his desire to be with you. Naturally, Ubbe and Bjorn were the most trustworthy. With the eldest Ragnarsson living very far away, he wound up confessing everything to Ubbe, whom surprisingly, was supportive. He, like anyone else with common sense, could see how horribly Ivar treated you. Despite his constant remarks about ‘loving’ you, his actions seemed to betray his words. Ubbe only asked that Hvitserk be careful but did not discourage him from pursuing you. In fact, he supported the affair since it seemed to be the one thing that would make his brother happy.

Hvitserk sat, angered about Ivar’s plan to have you watch your lover die. Despite feeling jealousy over your lovesick demeanor, Hvitserk didn’t want you to be tormented. He loved you enough to even attempt speaking to Ivar about alternative punishments. Instead of killing the man, he suggested imprisoning him or sending him off to another kingdom as a mine worker. But it all fell on deaf ears. Ivar was hell bent on destroying your lover in the most brutal manner his dark mind could think of.

“Do you know that soon we shall be able to feel it kick?” Elizabeth said as she held Ivar’s hand over her belly. “I am so looking forward to it….though I hope it does not hurt.”

“I do not think you need to worry. It seems that you and Jonah are very blessed of the Gods.” Ivar replied. “While Y/N is….a constant thorn in my side.”

Ivar looked up your sister and smiled though he was envious. How could Jonah, a man with no power, title or great accolades be expecting a child? Whilst he, Ivar the Boneless, leader of the Great Heathen Army and son of Ragnar, be denied? You! He blamed you of course! Yes, indeed! Ivar knew that somehow, you had caused the Gods to not bless your home with a little one due to your affair. You chose to defile his marital bed and now, the consequences of your actions were being felt.

No matter. Ivar knew how make sure that there was atonement. The blood and flesh of Herry Forester would be food for the Viking Gods.

_____________

It took nearly two weeks, but Harald’s boat was finally spotted in the great distance. The news traveled across Kattegat like the wind and soon, you could hear Ivar’s voice as he gave instructions to his servants and men. There was to be an opulent feast to welcome the great Harald Finehair. As you worked on other household tasks, some thralls came to you with orders from Ivar. You were to ensure that a meal fit for a King awaited his friend in addition to assigning thralls to be at his beck and call. Truly, Ivar was sparing no expense in making Harald feel both missed and appreciated.

As you went about giving orders to the thralls and servants, you felt weak. You also developed a massive pain within your head that felt as if your skull was being crushed in a vice.

“I must remain calm and strong. There must be something I can say or do to save Herry.” You thought to yourself.”

Before your husband departed to go to the docks, he made certain to stop in your sewing room where he found you praying. Surprised that you still held out some faith in the midst of everything that was occurring, he laughed. Ivar thought you were insane for being so determined to beg your God for your lover’s life.

“Wife, despite your prayers, I do believe I am the one your so-called God has listened to.” He said with wide, pleased eyes. “He and my own Gods have blessed me. We are leaving to the docks but shall be home shortly for Harald’s welcoming. And please make certain that it is the most lavish feast I have thrown in a long while. I am in a……celebratory mood.”

For a moment, you contemplated stabbing Ivar with the knitting needle that you held in your hand as he turned to leave. He was far to pleased with himself and the glee he seemed to get from the impeding death of Herry made you detest him even more. Though you wanted to hurt him in that moment, you knew better. So, instead of attacking your husband, you laid the knitting needle down and cried.

_______________

At the docks, Ivar appeared to be the happiest man on earth as he sat upon a bench watching the ship pull ever closer to Kattegat. As he peered out over the waters, he flipped his axe over and over in anticipation of having Herry Forester standing in front of him in the flesh.

He wanted to see for himself, the man whom you wished to live happily ever after with and most likely bear his children. Ivar could only imagine the things you and Herry spoke about as you lay in his arms whilst he was away raiding. The thought of it all made him even happier that he had chosen to capture your lover. His jealousy was properly stoked as he threw his axe again.

“I see that you are very pleased.” Halfdan said as he leaned on a wooden beam.

“Oh, I am. Not only will I get my vengeance but I will make certain that his death is one that will honor the Gods.” Ivar said as he kept his eyes on the approaching ship.

Halfdan understood why Ivar was planning to kill the man but at the same time, he also felt bad for you. As he gazed into the sky, he contemplated all that was about to unfold once his brother’s ship docked.

Halfdan knew that you were a good woman and had seen how often his friend had mistreated you. Even as a Viking, he knew women would often find comfort in other man’s arms when they felt unloved or unappreciated. Though he wanted to advise Ivar of this, he understood that the young Ragnarsson was not like other men. He found offense in things too easily and was also quick-tempered. For that reason, Halfdan kept his opinion to himself.

As Ivar, Halfdan and some of their other friends awaited the ship that was still a bit off in the distance, Bjorn appeared. He came with news of an important meeting that was taking place about upcoming raids and newly discovered lands. It had been announced some time back but it appeared that Ivar had forgotten about it due to his focus being on your lover.

“But I am awaiting Harald to dock.” Your husband protested. “Go on without me and make my excuses.”

“Ivar this is important. The other leaders and Kings will take exception if all the Ragnarssons are not present.” Bjorn chided him. “Even I have come, despite living the furthest away. It is far too important. You must attend!”

Rolling his eyes, Ivar finally relented as he took up his crutch. Turning to Halfdan, he announced that they would attend the meeting but leave a good number of thralls and servants behind to welcome Harald home. After leaving instructions with some of his men, Ivar and Halfdan joined Bjorn to attend the meeting.

_________________

After the meeting had ended and all was decided about who would lead what garrisons and battalions, Ivar was quick to make haste back home. He was pleased to see that all the thralls and servants that had traveled with Harald were back on the estate premises. It meant that his friend and the mysterious Herry Forester were there as well.

Harald was outdoors in the canopied dining area after receiving a greeting fit for a King, as per Ivar’s orders. He had been lavishly bathed by thralls and now sat, busily eating foods befitting any royal.

“My dear friend. I am glad to see that the Gods have brought you back home safely.” Ivar said as he warmly greeted Harald.

“Good to see you as well.”

After Harald and his brother exchanged greetings and brotherly love, Ivar sat down with the two men.

“We shall celebrate your return in grand fashion tonight. So you should rest until then.”Ivar boasted.

“Your little ‘present’ is in the cell as you wanted.”

“How does he appear to you?” Ivar asked as he gave all his attention to Harald.

His inquisitive mind wanted to know more before setting eyes on your lover. In a way, he wanted the opinion of another man, perhaps to squelch his deep seeded insecurity. Pondering for a moment, Harald finally spoke.

“Well, when I first spotted him when they brought him aboard the ship, I was not surprised.”

“How so?” Ivar asked.

“Well, he seems to be the type that could make some women weak. Especially Christian women. He possesses a boyish appearance…. you know….soft face and all.”Harald said as he took a bite of roasted meat. “Typical weakness brought about through their odd breeding practices….I assume.”

“So he appears a weaker man than I?” Ivar asked as blue eyes got larger.

“By Gods yes! Our shield-maidens would utterly reject him on site.” Harald chuckled as a thrall poured him mead.

Ivar smiled upon hearing that his ‘rival’ was not as masculine or powerful in appearance as he was. To know that you had chosen a weak specimen of a man actually made him laugh. Especially, since your husband prided himself on being imposing and intimidating. As you passed by them with four thralls in tow, Ivar glanced at you. Though your eyes met, you ignored him and turned your head.

“Wife!” He barked. “Do you not see that our friend Harald has returned?”

You stopped walking, almost ready to burst from rage. His happy countenance as of late was frustrating to endure. Turning sharply towards your husband, you exhaled before you spoke.

“I have had the pleasure of welcoming dear Harald home already.” You said. “He arrived hours ago whilst you were away at the meeting after all. Or have you forgotten that you instructed me to care for him prior to your departure?” You asked with some annoyance.

“I truly suggest that you watch your tone Y/N.” Ivar said as he gazed at you. “I merely asked you one simple question. I am in no need of a speech. Am I understood?”

“You are understood.” You replied.

With that you turned on your heels and walked away with the four thralls scurrying behind you. Harald and Halfdan exchanged glances before they continued to eat and drink. Ivar on the other hand, continued to watch you as you walked away. What he was thinking about or planning, only he knew.

_______________

“Mistress, can you please follow me to the courtyard?” A thrall said as she nervously looked at you.

“But this is my alone time.” You replied. “I shall go for fresh air later.”

You continued to sew gold and sliver embellishments into the light blue over-tunic you were making for Sigurd. Since you were an amazing seamstress, you often found yourself making clothes for your brothers-in-law. The thrall swallowed hard before approaching you timidly.

“My Mistress, I do not mean to be so forward but I must insist. I was instructed to take you there by the Master.”

You stopped sewing and looked up at the thrall. She seemed tense as she waited for you to do as she asked.

“Fine.” You said as you put your things down. “Let us see what this is all about.”

__________________

Since the winter was lifting, the weather was pretty decent so you only donned your light cloak over your dress and skirts as you followed the thrall. You were unaware that your every move was being watched. In the high-tower, Ivar sat with Ubbe and Hvitserk, observing you as he had planned.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Ubbe asked as he poured himself some ale.

“Of course I am.” Ivar replied as he kept his eyes trained upon you. “I never do anything I am not certain of. Besides………..I have to see it for myself.”

What he wanted to ‘see for himself’ was the depth of your affection for Herry. Ivar had decided against meeting his prisoner face-to-face for the meantime. Instead, he wanted to lay eyes upon him from a distance. That was his reason for having you brought to the courtyard. To not only gaze upon his nemesis for the first time, but to witness your reaction to seeing him again. Most men would not have wanted to put themselves in that type of situation, but Ivar was an oddity. He was tormenting himself so that the execution would be far worse.

“This is absurd.” Hvisterk said as he watched you cross the courtyard. “Do you not realize that this will make her melancholy worse?”

“Melancholy?” Ivar scoffed. “Do not allow Y/N to fool you, brother. She is no wilting flower or tender-hearted woman. She is only upset that her plans to disgrace me did no come to fruition.

As he finished speaking, Ivar noted that some of his men were approaching you from the east-side of the estate. He waved Ubbe and Hvitserk forward so they could also witness what he was seeing.

_____________

The attractive Herry Forester walked between five guards as they led him towards where you and your thralls were sat. As he took notice of your form, your lover walked ahead of the men with a smile upon his face.

Since you had your back to them, he admired you a while before he finally called out to you. Upon hearing the voice you knew all too well, you froze. Slowly, you turned to see the man you loved and adored standing before you. You stood up and looked him over, still in shock at the sight. Surprisingly, Herry appeared to be in good spirits despite everything as he gazed into your eyes with deep affection.

You were utterly beside yourself with love and grief.

_______________

As he sat next to Ivar, Hvitserk watched with bated breath - his ears growing hot with jealously. Though he knew he should not be feeling so. You had been perfectly honest with him about your love for the man after all. Even when you had divulged the reason behind Ivar ordering you to be interrogated, you never held back about your devotion to Herry. So, like his little brother, all Hvitserk could do was watch the reunion unfold below him.

Ubbe, for his part, thought Ivar was insane for allowing you to be put in such a position. He knew that nothing good could come of it for either you nor Ivar. As much as the youngest Ragnarsson liked to make others believe that he was always in control of his emotions, Ubbe knew better. He knew that his little brother was underestimating the situation. Dark heart or not, watching the person you loved reunite with whom they really desired, would be a painful experience for anyone.

________________

“Herry!” You said as you finally ran to him.

Amazingly, the guards did not stop you. Since they had been instructed to allow you freedom of movement, they merely stood and watched. You embraced Herry tightly as he picked you up off your feet. You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his flesh while running your fingers through his wavy hair. The two of you stayed that way for a good long while, pretending that the world had melted away.

As he set you down, you looked up at your lover with eyes that began welling with tears.

“I have missed you something fierce Y/N.” He said - his own eyes glistening with tears as well.

“Your beautiful hair.” You exclaimed with a weak smile upon your face. “It is flaxen now?”

Herry chuckled as you brushed his locks with your fingers. He stated that there was an older woman who had bleached it with ash and lye soap to help further his disguise.

“That worked out quite well, did it not love?” He said in jest as he laughed.

You hit him on his shoulder for his attempt at humor at such a serious time. Knowing your hatred of jesting during grave moments, Herry laughed at you even harder.

“Well, I see you have not changed.” He added.

“Oh, be quiet.” You playfully commanded as you gazed at him.

Placing your hands on each of his cheeks, you caressed his face as if you were touching him for the first time. He gazed down at you with adoration as you took in every little detail of his person. From the tiny light brown mole on his chin, to the stubble along his jawline.

“I am so, so very sorry, my love” You said as tears escaped your eyes. “I did not wish for you to ever be here again. If–”

"Well, I for one cannot say that I am entirely saddened to be back here.” He smiled weakly. “At least I have laid eyes upon you again. I was so miserable without you. Every day, I wondered if it was the day your ship would arrive.

You pulled his face to yours - touching foreheads as you began to cry. The two of you stood that way for at least two minutes before Herry perked your chin up with his finger.

“Y/N, you know that I love you.” He said tapping your chin gently. “Though things are quite dire, you are forgetting what we have always said. No regrets. Remember?”

“No regrets.” You echoed as the tears kept streaming down your face.

Herry took a kerchief from his leather vest and began wiping your face as if you were a child. He smiled at you while doing so, knowing that your love for him was as deep as his love for you.

_______

Ivar’s jaws were so tense that Ubbe feared he would erupt in a blind rage at any moment. He was in no mood for his brother to escalate things more than they already were. Before he could say a word to his little brother, Ivar spoke.

“Look how she dotes upon him with no shame.” He said both in envy and anger.

“You are the one who insisted on witnessing it.” An annoyed Ubbe replied. “What did you think was going to occur?”

“It is of no consequence now.” Ivar snapped. “I am finally ready to meet this so-called Herry face to face. I want him to hear of his impending death from my own lips.”

Hvitserk and Ubbe glanced at one another in silence. They knew Ivar’s desire to see you reunite with your lover had only added to his madness. And they also knew that it would lead to things become worse for everyone for the foreseeable future.

__________________

Herry was sat in his prison cell reading the Psalms from his family bible when he heard numerous people approaching. For some odd reason, Ivar had allowed his prisoner to keep his religious books. Not as a show of kindness, but as a display of his great power. He wanted you and Herry to know that despite all your bibles, prayers and crosses, none were a match for Ivar the Boneless!

As the cell door was unlocked by a guard, Herry looked up to see who was coming to pay him a visit.

“So, I finally get to meet the man and legend himself. Herry Forester!” Ivar smirked as he walked into the cell. “The thrall who seduced my wife and then absconded to Wessex with my coin.”

Herry looked at Ivar a moment, not shaken by his words. He knew your husband was a cruel man who prided himself in tormenting others. So, despite being a prisoner of a man feared by both Heathen and Christian alike, your lover was unmoved.

“I cannot seduce a woman who is mine freely.”

Ivar glared at Herry as he walked around him slowly. He did not like the composed manner in which your Christian lover spoke. Not only did he look Ivar straight in his eyes, he did not show an ounce of fear, despite his situation.

“Do you think I am a fool?” Ivar asked.

“No. Why would I think that?” A serene Herry replied.

Ivar’s jaw tensed. His anger was rising quickly as he looked upon the young man before him. Whether he cared to admit it or not, he envied Herry. Though he had no great family name, war accolades or wealth, he had something that Ivar had yet to capture. Your heart.

“If you do not think me a fool, why did you sleep with my wife and think there would be no punishment?” Ivar hissed. “

“I will be honest with you Prince Ivar. In my wildest dreams, I would have never thought that I would ever bed a married woman.” Herry said. “However, Y/N should have never been your wife to begin with.”

Ivar’s blue eyes widened at the young man’s bluntness.

“We were in love and intended to marry long before you took her by force.” Herry continued. “I have broken a commandment, that I know. My Lord and God will have to judge me for that. But I do not regret being with the woman I love. Neither you nor anyone else can ever make me feel different.”

Ivar’s nostrils flared and his brow furrowed as he got in Herry’s face. He had heard enough from the unapologetic Christian. He expected the young man to be begging for his life by now, not reaffirming his love for you.

“I am going to enjoy killing you.” Ivar hissed.

“Do what you must.” Herry replied never looking away from Ivar’s intense glare.

“You have done nothing but torment Y/N from the day you walked into her life. At least this time, I am the focus of your rage. You can kill me. But what she and I share is beyond this mortal world. She will always love me.” Herry added.

“Good. Then you can expect her to love you whilst you lay in your Christian grave.” Ivar said between gritted teeth.

“The Bible tells us that it is appointed for man to live once and then die to face judgment. I do not fear death.”

“We’ll see.” Ivar replied.

“Despite what you believe, you are not God! I will neither beg nor fear you Ivar. Believer or not, you shall also die one day and receive your own judgment.” Herry said as he clasped his hands in front of him.

Ivar began shaking with rage. So much so that his guards thought for certain he would kill the prisoner at that very moment. Before he lost control, your husband calmed himself. He backed out of the cell and had it locked again. As he stood in front of the bars looking at Herry, Ivar spit on the ground before he finally departed.

__________________

Ivar barged into your chamber nearly in the middle of the night after drinking with his brothers and friends. The only brother to make excuses that evening was Hvitserk; who did not think he could be around Ivar without it resulting in violence. As soon as your husband sat upon the bed to be undressed by the thralls, you spoke up.

“Please Ivar! I cannot live if you follow through.” You said holding in your tears. If there is anything you want me to do, I beg that you tell me. Please!” You added as you practically crawled to him. "With everything in me as a woman….I ask for mercy.”

You held onto one of his legs - covered by his metal brace. The coldness of the steel that helped your husband walk was as cold as his heart. Ivar looked down at you as if you were a madwoman that had wondered in off the streets.

“Let go of me Y/N.” He snapped. “I am tired and in need of rest.”

“Punish me instead!” You said as you began to weep.

Your heart began to feel as if it would stop beating from the pain. The thought of your sweet Herry dying in front of you was worse than anything you could imagine. How could you watch the life leave your lover’s body? It was just too much for your Christian sensibilities to handle. Still looking down at you, Ivar drew his face into a familiar scowl as his jaw tightened. His blue eyes became dark and full of a malice you had never seen before. It was the angriest you had seen your husband in a long while.

“Have you gone mad Y/N?” He shouted at you with his face turning red. “You are MY wife and you gave yourself to another. Now you beg upon your knees?” He seethed. “Do you know that you are making it worse for him? I shall give him a death that will make even the Gods tremble if you do not leave me be!”

“Ivar.” You said - tears falling uncontrollably. “I implore you not to kill him. Just imprison him for life. If anyone should suffer, let it be me.” Your voice shook with brokenness. “Kill me instead. I am the one who deceived you not–.”

“Shut up Y/N! Do you hear yourself right now?” Ivar shouted.

He could not believe what you were saying. Why were you so dedicated to a man who was nothing and owned nothing compared to him? He was a Ragnarsson and a Prince, not to mention a feared warrior. Herry was merely a former thrall that had made good use of the coin you gave him.

“So, you are willing to offer me your life for his without a second thought?” Ivar asked as he looked at you with disgust. “Listen and listen to me well Y/N, for I shall not repeat myself. You fucked this thrall while I was off raiding, never giving thought of praying for my safe return. Then, you had the gall to use my coin to hide him! Do you really suppose tears will suffice for all that?” He shook his head as if you had lost your senses. “Of course I’m going to kill him!”

______________

It was the night before Herry’s appointed death and you paced the floor of the Great Hall beside yourself with grief. Ivar had gone off somewhere with Halfdan, Harald and Ubbe leaving you to your own devices. You wanted desperately to see your lover one last time but you knew your husband’s men would never allow it. As you took a seat, utterly dejected, you heard footsteps approach.

“Come quickly Y/N.” Hvitserk beckoned.

When you looked at him, he knelt by you - dressed finely as if he had just returned from a feast or event.

“Where are we–.”

“There is no time for questions. Just trust me.”

Taking his hand, you allowed the Ragnarsson you had grown to trust and depend on, to lead you without question. It didn’t take long before your realized exactly where he was taking you. The tower where your dear Herry was being held. The two guards stopped you both when you arrived at the massive doors, however, Hvitserk took charge.

“You will allow us to pass, do I make myself clear? And if you repeat anything that you saw tonight, I will kill you both.” He said very calmly.

The men glanced at each other and then back at the Prince that stood before them. Shrugging, one stepped aside as the other opened up the large wood and metal door. Upon opening it, the one guard led the two of you to the cell where you found your lover awake looking out of the window into the night sky. The guard unlocked the metal cell door with a clank, which finally drew Herry’s attention. His face lit up upon seeing you.

Despite pain in his chest that felt worse than anything, Hvitserk stepped back.

“Go to him.” He said to you.

You looked back at the elder Ragnarsson and noted the forced smile upon his face. Touching his shoulder, you smiled with tears welling in your eyes.

“Thank you Hvitty.” You whispered.

___________

In the cell, you ran into Herry’s arms. He hugged you tightly as you both attempted to savor the moment. Without a second thought you broke the embrace and crashed your lips to his for the first time in months. The kiss was gentle, sweet and pure. His lips claimed yours as he practically swept you off your feet.

A solemn Hvitserk turned his back to the two of you and took a seat on a nearby stool. Everything in him hurt. It wasn’t a feeling he had ever felt before. He had his share of lovers but he never felt any pain when he lost them or saw them with another. But with you, it felt as if he was falling ill. Hvitserk gritted his teeth to keep from thinking about how only a few paces behind him, you were utterly happy in another man’s arms.

“I love you so much Herry.” You said. “Please forgive me for everything I have done to you to bring you to this wretched moment.”

He smiled as he brushed his lips against yours a moment before kissing you again. After breaking the kiss, Herry rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip and smiled.

“What is there for me to forgive my silly one? You have done nothing to me but love me unconditionally. Everything else is as God has allowed it.” He said before giving you a soft peck.

“I will always love you Herry.” You replied with a shaking voice. “I…..I shall kill myself so I can be with you.”

Hvitserk’s heart sank when he heard you state that you wanted to end your life.

“Do not say such things Y/N. You know that people who take their own life end up in purgatory and can never enter eternal rest. Do you wish to damn your soul and separate us for eternity?” Herry asked with a smile.

“No.” You hesitated. “I suppose not. It is just….I cannot live without you. You are my heart.”

“As you are mine.” He said as he pulled you closer. “That is why you must be a fighter. You dying as well will not solve anything. Remember, things will not always be so dire, you must believe that.”

Herry took your hand and kissed your fingertips and then playfully bit them as he had habit of doing. In spite of your sadness, you giggled in response. The two of you touched foreheads tenderly as you caressed his face - you fingers lightly dancing against his skin.

“I have prayed and committed my soul to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” He said. “I feel an odd sense peace now.”

“I have been praying for you as well. Perhaps, we can still hold out for a miracle.”

“Let us not speak of miracles my sweet Y/N.” Herry said as he wrapped his arms around you and rested your head upon his shoulder. “Just let me hold you.”

_______________

In the courtyard of your husbands estate, you sat where the Viking priests had instructed. It was late in the afternoon and time for the Herry Forester to meet his maker. Numerous friends and acquaintances of your husband were sat around at tables, eating and drinking. As you sat numb to the world, you nervously twisted your black over-skirt - the entire outfit selected by Ivar. As for your husband, he was also donned in all black standing near a large table full of all manner of weaponry.

You winced as you saw how many instruments of torture were on display. Especially the large war axe that you knew Berserkers loved for it’s ability to mutilate the human body quickly. You overheard Ivar speaking to the priest who was sharpening a large dagger in a language you did not recognize. When he had finished, the priest unraveled his braids and allowed Ivar’s dark hair to cascade down his back and shoulders. The man then rubbed some dark-reddish powder throughout your husband’s locks. When he was done, the priest handed the dagger to Ivar. Walking to you upon his crutch, your husband stopped directly in front of you.

“Stand up, wife.” He commanded.

When you did as he asked, Ivar pressed his forehead to yours - his hair tickling your cheeks as the wind picked up. You then realized that he wasn’t merely pressing his head to yours for no reason, he was saying some words in the dialect you did not recognize. From the cadence of how he spoke, you surmised that he was likely offering a prayer to his Gods.

Hvitserk, who sat a few yards away with Ubbe and Sigurd, eyed Ivar with disdain. When your husband had finished the prayer, he suddenly held the curved dagger by it’s handle. The weapon was as pretty as it was deadly looking. It was engraved with runes so you assumed it was a ceremonial weapon of sorts. As his hair blew in the wind, Ivar’s blue eyes stared into yours a moment before he leaned to your ear.

“If you kill him, I shall not have the need to prolong his death.” He said. See, I have given you a choice.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open but no words escaped. Ivar gave you a pleased look as you stood in utter shock. Your husband then managed to unravel one of your thick braids and used the dagger to cut a lock of your hair. He handed the strands to a priest and then cut a lock of his own hair in the same manner. When the priest had both of your hairs in his hand, he nodded and walked away. After that was complete, two thralls rushed over and rubbed some aromatic oils in Ivar’s hair before they quickly braided it.

The same scented oils were run along your already style hair as you stood motionless. Satisfied, one of the priests applied black ash on both of your foreheads in the form of a symbol - what it stood for, you did not know.

Ivar held on to the ceremonial dagger as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You began to shake as you felt your knees go weak. How could he expect you to kill the man you loved? The three priests walked to you and Ivar and began chanting in the unfamiliar dialect again while walking around you both in a circle. Your heart began to pound in your ears as you looked around and searched for where they were holding Herry.

You had not seen him since Hvitserk had taken you to him the night before. The nausea hit you as the priests continued walking around you and Ivar. For a brief moment, you looked at the dagger in your husband’s hand and contemplated using it on him. The man who had tormented you for nearly two years was within striking distance. Ivar’s guard was down as he stood beside you holding it loosely, focused on what the priests were saying.

But your husband was a perceptive man. Noticing the manner in which you were staring at the dagger and clenching your jaw, Ivar’s grip upon your waist tightened. He then leaned his mouth to your ear.

“What are you thinking, hmm?” He asked in a very calm tone. “I will not try to stop you. But know this Y/N, if you strike, you best kill me.”

You looked up into Ivar’s blue eyes that met yours with odd resolve. He stared at you as if he was challenging you to try to kill him. The intense, unwavering nature of his gaze finally made you look away. How did he know you so well that he could tell what you were thinking by merely by looking at you? It was as strange as it was unnerving.

Suddenly, some horns sounded and Herry was led past the gathered people towards the center of the courtyard. As soon as you saw your lover, you tried to go to him but Ivar pulled you back.

“Hold him there a moment.” A pleased Ivar commanded. “Behold everyone! Here is our Christian hero returned to us from Wessex. All in the name of love.” He shouted to the laughter of the Vikings around him.

Ivar laughed as he gazed at his rival for the last time. Indeed, Herry would no longer cause him any more grief.

Hvitserk shifted in his seat as he held his sword on his lap, quite tired of his brother’s show.

“What was it you said to me in the cell, Herry?” Ivar asked before he leaned over and placed a kiss upon your cheek. “Oh, I remember. You said that you appreciated that my rage was focused on you instead of Y/N.”

Herry glared at him but stood with his head held high.

“So what would you do if I was to decide to punish her instead?” Ivar said as he grabbed the back of your neck and raised the dagger.

Exposing the length of your neck by drawing you head backward, he placed the jagged blade against your throat as he glared into the eyes of the man he hated. Harald and Halfdan both looked at each other with some confusion before turning their attention back to Ivar’s display. Though he had a weapon at your neck, neither of them believed he would actually do anything.

However, the brothers were unsure of what their friend was trying to prove and did not care for it. Fortunately, they were not the only ones. The other Ragnarssons eyed Ivar cautiously in case his display was not merely for shock value. As for Hvitserk, he was thoroughly prepared to kill Ivar if need be.

“Do not harm her please.” Herry said with brokenness.

“Then get on your knees and beg me for her life!” Ivar hissed. “You told me that you would never beg me nor fear me. I want to see you do both.”

Without hesitation, Herry got on his knees.

“I beg you Prince Ivar, do not hurt Y/N. She does not deserve it.” He said. “You have me to do with as you see fit. Please, I ask you for mercy.”

Ivar chuckled, quite pleased with the manner in which his threat had caused distress to Herry. He glanced at you a moment before slowly pulling the dagger away. With a smug smile, your husband looked down at his prisoner.

“Well that was easy.” He said with satisfaction. “Now, it is time for you to meet your Christian God.”

You pulled yourself from Ivar’s grip and ran to Herry - kneeling on the ground before him. Sigurd, being perhaps the most sensitive of the Ragnarssons, watched with a heavy heart. He could not imagine how you were feeling. Hvitserk also felt bad, however, he wavered between jealousy and pity.

“Herry, do not worry about me. I should be the one begging for your life despite the fact that Ivar has a heart of stone.”

“As I have told you already, I have made my peace. Just promise me that you will always love me.” Herry said as he caressed your cheek.

Ivar frowned as he watched you behave as if the world was coming to an end.

“Y/N, you best kill him now or I will began dismembering him while alive and spread his parts all over Kattegat!” Your husband yelled at you.

Your heart raced as you looked into Herry’s eyes. He appeared to pity you instead of concerning himself with his impending death.

“Do not allow him to force you to kill me. I will take his punishment as it comes.”

“No!” You said as you grasped his tunic. “Are you mad? Do you want me to think about your last moments being that of gore and violence?”

“But…you cannot do it my love. It would be too much for you to live with. I know your kind heart too well.” Herry said as he gave you a faint smile.

“I cannot allow you to suffer but I also do not want to use my own hands to hurt you.”You said placing your forehead against his.

“Either say you will do it or I shall begin carving!” Ivar growled.

“I…I shall do it!” You said loudly as tears fell.

Ivar was inwardly happy with your decision. All along, he had wanted you to be the one to destroy your lover. He felt it was what you deserved for hurting him. A surprised Bjorn put his head down as he tapped the side of horn of mead. There was an uneasy silence as the guards grabbed Herry and began to lead him towards the table used for human sacrifice.

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as possible until one of the guards finally had to pull you off. As he was being taken to his area of execution, Herry broke away from the guards suddenly. He rushed over to you with his eyes fixed upon yours and pulled you into one last kiss.

Ivar was livid and he shouted at his men to break up the scene before his eyes. The guards all hesitated a moment, seemingly astounded by the depth of the love between you. Once Herry was pulled away from you, Ivar walked over and placed the ceremonial dagger into your hand.

“If you hesitate Y/N, I will not give you a second attempt.” He said.

As you slowly walked over to your lover, who was laid on his back on the ceremonial table, Bjorn suddenly sauntered over to your side. Grabbing your wrist, your former Master and now brother-in-law whispered.

“Stick him between his jaw and earlobe. He will go rather quickly.” The elder Ragnarsson said and then pointed to the spot he spoke of.

You nodded slowly, in a bit of a daze as you held the dagger close to your chest. When you approached the table where Herry laid awaiting you, you legs went weak and you stumbled. Bjorn, who was still close by, caught you and rested you against himself. Being a caring person, he walked you over to the ceremonial table and stood beside you still allowing you to place your weight against him. In his heart, Bjorn felt as if everything occurring was his own fault. If he had only stuck to his initial denials to his little brother, you would have had a much happier life.

Your body trembled violently as you leaned over Herry and laid your head upon his chest. Your tears would not stop as you listened to his heart beating underneath your ear. A heart, that in moments, would beat no more. Bringing his hand to your head, Herry turned you to face him.

“Do not do it Y/N. It will break you.” He said as he peered into your eyes.

“I would do anything for you Herry. Even this.” You said. “I will be strong for both of us so that your death will not be painful.”

He smiled at you weakly as you caressed his face. Your heart felt utterly broken beyond comfort.

“I love you so much Herry.” You said as you studied his features.

“I love you too Y/N. More than you could ever comprehend.” He said with his beautiful smile beaming at you. “No regrets my love.”

“No regrets.” You replied.

Taking the ceremonial dagger, you glanced back at Bjorn who pointed to his neck again to show you the spot to hit. You exhaled deeply and looked down at Herry’s neck to find the right area as instructed by the eldest Ragnarsson. Once you spotted it, you leaned down and gave Herry once last kiss.

“That is enough! I–.”

Before Ivar could finish his words, you thrust the dagger swiftly into your lover’s neck, severing the artery just as Bjorn had instructed. Herry’s green eyes went wide as he looked into Y/C eyes with shock. You dropped the bloody dagger on the ground as you took his hand in yours and placed you face close to his.

“I am so, very sorry. Please do not hate me Herry.” You sobbed as you tried to comfort him the best you could. “It is all my fault.”

Hvitserk looked away. He could not bear to see you so distraught, even if it was over another man.

Sigurd and Ubbe both drank their mead by the mouthfuls as they attempted to drown out your sorrowful wails. As for the other Vikings, they seemed pleased with the death of a Christian. Especially at the hand of another supposed Christian. The irony of your ‘thou shalt not kill’ commandment made them laugh the more.

Herry did not make any painful noises as you expected. He kept looking into your eyes as the blood pooled underneath him and slowly slid down into a large wooden bowl located by the table. His breathing became shallow as he kept staring into your eyes. The light in his once bright green eyes, seemingly fading by the second.

“I see it. It is so very beautiful Y/N.” He muttered.

“I love you Herry. I will always love you.” You whimpered with your face against his.

Within seconds, your sweet Herry was no more. His body stilled and his eyes stared into yours but with no life behind them. You collapsed on top of him, kissing his lips and caressing his face as you wailed unlike anything the Vikings around you had seen before. You were utterly broken.

You could not recall what else had occurred between you collapsing on top of Herry’s body and when you awakened to find yourself being carried by Sigurd. He was relieved to see you open your eyes, as was Hvitserk who was walking alongside him. As your brother-in-law carried you away from the now festive atmosphere of your lover’s execution, you saw Ivar with the bowl that contained Herry’s blood. He was the first to dip his hands and taste of it before the rest of the Vikings would have their turn.

It was then you swore to one day leave Ivar no matter what the cost. If the two of you killed one another in the attempt, so be it.

____________

It had been nearly four months since Herry’s death and you had made certain that Ivar knew you would not lay with him. No matter what he said or did, you kept your word. To say your husband was sexually frustrated would have been an understatement. He became even more short tempered than he was already. However, you knew you had to come up with a plan since Ivar had begun ranting about his right to force himself upon you. Thinking long and hard, you came up with a solution you hoped would work. Taking great care to invite your little sister over for suppers and long walks, you slowly began introducing the subject of Ivar and your inability to ‘please’ him in the bed.

Despite Elizabeth’s good Christian girl persona, she was a woman first and foremost. Since having her son, you knew that she and Jonah’s sex life was not that great, according to her own words. You also knew that she found Ivar quite attractive and had seen her harmlessly flirt with him on many occasion. At one such supper, as you and your little sister ate alone, you finally decided to get to the point.

“You should perhaps try to relax more, or even try new positions in the bed. The man on top is wonderful but there is so much more, sister.” She suggested. “Please, do not think me naughty for saying it” She added with a giggle.

“No, that will not help the problem.” You replied. “What we are in need of is a…a convenient woman. Someone to lay with him since I am unable to at the present time.” You said as you eyed your sister.

Despite her shifting uncomfortably in her seat and sipping her wine quickly, Elizabeth did not interrupt you.

“Ivar is far too much man for me. I know we need another woman to please him but I just do not wish for it to be a stranger.” You paused. “That is why…..I want you, as my sister, to lay with him in my place.”

Elizabeth eyes shot to you. She could barely register what you had suggested.

“Now remember Lizzy, in the bible there are numerous mentions of women laying with married men at the behest of their wives.” You said as you tried to convince her. “It would not be deceitful since I am asking you to do it.”

To your utter relief, she did not throw her fork down and leave the table as you had thought. Instead, Elizabeth looked around and leaned closer over the table.

“But what of Jonah?” She asked. “Would I not be breaking my vows with him?”

“Oh heavens no. We are both married couples and you are not leaving him or philandering about. You are helping me to keep my marriage a happy one by fulfilling what I cannot in the bedchamber.” You replied. “There is no need to involve Jonah. Bedsides, Ivar is a man of privacy, he would want only the three of us to be in the know.”

Your sister was more excited than she wanted to let on. After mulling it over only a few minutes, she suddenly glanced up at you with a shy smile.

“I will do it.” She said.

_________________

After his return from visiting a nearby Kingdom with Halfdan, Bjorn and Harald, Ivar began drinking heavily again. Every night, he accused you of all manner of things, including being the reason he was being denied a baby. One such evening; when you had reminded him that he could father one with any woman in Kattegat; Ivar attempted to throw a large vessel of mead at your head. The only reason he was unable to do so was due to three thralls grabbing his arms. Indeed, Ivar had been on a rampage, the likes you had not seen.

Even Harald’s council did not soothe his inner beast. Due to his behavior, you tried to avoid him when he was at the estate. However, this only made things worse. He would go on tangents until frightened thralls searched you out and informed him of your whereabouts.

Regardless of what you were doing, whether it was merely sewing or watching the sunset over the waters of Kattegat, he would demand to be taken to your side. Despite you ignoring him, Ivar would seem content enough just being around you and eventually calm down. Your husband was behaving like a child afraid of their parent abandoning them and it was wearing on your nerves.

_____________

“You were too content with the idea of sleeping alone when I traveled with Bjorn.” He said in a drunken stupor one night. “Even if you cannot lay with me because of your issue, I am your husband; you should miss me!”

“What would you have me do Ivar? Go around mourning because you are not beside me every waking moment?”

“I no longer have patience for your sharp tongue Y/N! I do not know how many times I have to tell you this. One day, I shall cut it out and feed it to the dogs of Kattegat.” Ivar said.

He then produced his favorite knife from his side and placed the tip upon your cheek. You stared at him but said nothing.

The blade he held was quite sharp and you had seen him cut numerous thralls with it with little effort. Now, he had it pressed to your flesh as his drunken eyes glared at you.

“That is better.” He said with a frown upon his face. “I want you to speak to me as if love me as much as I love you.” He said as he blue eyes bore into yours. “Am I understood?”

“Of course.”

“Of course what?” Ivar hissed.

“Of course, my husband.”

Ivar smiled as he took the knife away from you flesh. He flurried it in his fingers a moment before returning it to his waist.

“I want you now.” He commanded as he drunkenly shoved you onto your back.

“Ivar, I have told you I have been suffering some women problems.” You protested with your lie.

Despite wanting to lay with you badly, Ivar scowled and rolled onto his back.

“I do have a solution though. Take this and I shall return.”

Ivar took the mead from your hand and began to drink as you stepped out of the bedchamber.

___________

You went straight off to the guest room your little sister always slept in when she visited and knocked. The way the two of you had figured things, it was only a matter of time before Ivar would demand sex and Elizabeth would be there to provide it. As you sister exited her chamber, she looked quite nervous. She was already wearing a red silk slip and over-slip in anticipation of you calling for her.

“It is time.” You said. “Do not be be so frightened Lizzy. He is merely a man.”

“I understand but I am still nervous.” She confessed. “What if he gets mad at the two of us for no reason and does something terrible?”

“Do not worry so much. Ivar is very drunk and very much in the mood for a woman’s touch.” You reassured her. “You will be fine.”

As you took your little sister’s hand in yours, you used the candle in your grasp to guide her back to your chambers.

__________

Ivar looked up when the two of you entered the chamber and gazed between you both for a moment. Immediately, he became perplexed.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked with his anger rising. “What is she doing here?”

“Ivar, my sweet husband. I have brought sweet Lizzy here to offer you release. She is willingly doing it to help us in our–.”

“You are pushing me to another woman? He asked with anger. “Is that how much you detest my touch?”

Comforting him, you caressed his cheek and kissed his lips sweetly.

“Of course not. It’s just that I know that Vikings do this all the time–”

“Stop comparing me to other men!” He hissed.

“I am sorry.” You soothed. “I merely meant that Lizzy wants to help you find some pleasure until I can give you what you need.”

Ivar looked into your eyes with mistrust as he gulped down more ale. He then looked over at Elizabeth who kept her eyes to the floor.

“Just for tonight.” He said as he glared at you. “I will not be pushed away Y/N. You are my wife, not Elizabeth!”

“Of course Ivar.” You replied as you kissed his cheek.

With that, you stood up and departed the chamber, quite pleased with yourself.

________

To say Elizabeth was excited to get in bed with Ivar the Boneless would have been an understatement. Ivar’s odd charms had managed to work their way into your little sister’s heart long ago. Aside from his good looks, she found his temperament exciting to be around especially since she was never on the receiving end of his cruelty. He seemed to treat her better than most people and even spoke with her more gently than he even spoke to you.

As the last of his clothes were removed by the thralls, Ivar barked at them to get out. As she stood looking at him, Elizabeth slowly began removing her garments as Ivar watched her from the bed. Instead of looking delighted however, Ivar’s expression changed to one of sad apprehension.

A nude Elizabeth slowly walked over to the bed and sat close to Ivar as he shifted on the furs. She was excited by toned frame as well as his manliness, which was overwhelming when compared to Jonah. Though she loved Jonah, your sister lusted after Ivar. You asking her to lay with him was not only a dream come true but something she had fantasied about numerous times. As she got on top of him, Elizabeth slowly rocked her mound against his semi erect cock. Unsure what to do at first, Ivar finally held her waist as he watched her move.

“I hope I am not hurting you.” She said as she felt herself become even more aroused - her whole body running hot.

She looked down at your husband who still seemed hesitant as his eyes darted around the room.

“Do not be so tense. I am a woman Ivar. No different than my sister.”

“Do not mention Y/N.” Ivar said as his eyes went dark.

Nodding, Elizabeth kept rotating her hips against him until he began to groan as his excitement grew. Then abruptly, Ivar tossed your sister off him. Stunned, she sat up in the bed and looked at your husband who seemed to be battling his emotions.

“Did I do something wrong?” Elizabeth asked. “Please let me know so I can make it better.”

A frustrated Ivar rolled his eyes as he threw himself onto his back.

“What is the matter?” You sister asked nervously. “Did I offend with my words?”

Ivar looked up at the ceiling a while before he finally spoke.

“You did not offend me so stop apologizing.” He said. “It is just that…I do not want you.”

Elizabeth was stunned. How could he reject her while she sat in front of him naked and ready to please him?

“But Ivar, I am here to give you anything you desire. Let me do what is required to make you feel good.” Elizabeth said as she kissed Ivar’s cheek. “You can just lay there while I—”

“No!” An increasingly upset Ivar said. “I just want to rest.”

With that Ivar rolled onto his side and covered himself with some furs. Though she felt quite rejected, Elizabeth cuddled up close to him as he tried to get comfortable.

“Ivar…..do you find me unattractive?” She asked.

Her pride was greatly wounded and she supposed that his rejection could have something to do with the few stretch marks from her pregnancy.

“You are not unattractive.” Ivar sighed as he closed his eyes. “I just want to be with my wife.”

________________

Two days later at your mother’s home, you sat in the main room embelishing a dress for her when she took a seat in front of you.

“I will help you do inventory when I am done with this, mother.”

“There will be no need for that dear. I have a girl that now does it for me on a regular basis.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You had purposely come to get your supply of herbs that had run out.

“But mother. Who knows the use of herbs like our family?” You said. “Besides, we have such a methodical way of arranging them.”

“My thrall has picked up on it quite nicely. You need not worry.” Your mother replied as she eyed you.

You were becoming agitated as you continued to sew. You had to figure out a way to get into her shop. To gather the herbs she had was both difficult and time consuming. Especially since they were spread all over Kattegat. With how Ivar had you under lock and key, there was no way you could ever gather them yourself even if you wanted to.

“Mother if—.”

“Why have you been lying to me Y/N?”

“Pardon?”

Your mother exhaled as she put her cup of honeyed water down.

“I know you have been stealing herbs from me.” She said. “Why did you feel the need to do such a thing?”

You stopped sewing and sighed as you put the dress to the side. It was time to come clean to your mother now that you had been caught.

“Mother, I am truly sorry but I thought you would not understand. I know how you feel about such herbs for Christian women.”

“That may be true but does that give you the right to commit the sin of stealing? She asked. “From your own mother of all people. Do you know how long it takes me and the thralls I’ve trained to find these specimens?”

“I am so–”

“Of course you do not know because you simply come here, pretend that you want to keep me company and steal what you need.”

You felt like a wicked person when you actually heard your mother speak of your actions. It was a bit cruel to visit her for the sole purpose of stealing herbs for your own use - never taking into account her time and effort to attain them.

“Mother forgive me but I was desperate.”

“But I am your mother. You should be able to tell me these things.” She sighed. “What do you suppose your violent husband would do to me if his servants were to ever find those herbs in your possession?”

“I never thought about–.”

“Do you realize that most females can recognize these herbs by looking at them?” She asked. “Do you think we are the only women on earth to have knowledge of ‘how not to hold seed’?”

You thought about all your mother had put to you and realized that you had been selfish with both her herbs as well as her well-being. It was true that if any thralls saw the herbs and reported back to Ivar, your mother would not necessarily be safe. Ivar was capable of anything and her being your mother didn’t mean he would not harm her.

“Look dear. I will not allow you anymore access to the shop.”

You looked around the room in a panic, wondering what to say to change her mind.

“However….” She continued. “I will make small batches for you and send them with one of my trusted thralls.” Your mother said holding up a little silver vial. “She’s very old and keeps to herself. The tinctures will come in something similar to this….easy to hide and appears to be jewelry to the untrained eye.”

“You mean….you will still help me?” You asked.

“Of course.” Your mother said. “After all, you are my daughter.”

__________________

“I do not understand.” You said as you began to pace. “Why must Ivar set you and your men in the center of the battle?”

Hvitserk smiled at you knowing you were worried about him losing his life on the battlefield.

A Viking King named Kol Oddsson had turned on some of Bjorn and Ivar’s men after they had helped in raiding a newly discovered settlement. Upon hearing the news, the other Viking leaders asked that swift justice be meted out. After all, they could not allow leaders to think that the breaking alliances would ever be tolerated.

With great planning by Ivar, Bjorn and the rest of the Ragnarssons, the tactics had been drawn-up to take war to the wayward King. They were all to depart in three days much to your concern.

“Do not worry Y/N. I believe that the Gods are on my side……at least for now.” Hvitserk said as he pulled you by your skirts towards him. “At any rate, if I fall in battle, I shall go to Valhalla to be with my father and the other great warriors.”

“Hvitserk!” You sharply looked at him with fire in your eyes. “If you speak of dying to me again, I shall leave you in this room by yourself! I do not wish to lose you regardless of what your beliefs are.”

Very touched at how much you cared, he pulled you to his lap and kissed you. His soft lips grazed yours as he pulled away.

“I have been mulling over some plans to get us away from Ivar. I know it will take time to thoroughly come up with a good enough one for him to not find us…but I am confidant.” Hvitserk said as he held your hand.

Your eyes twinkled as you looked at him. It was one of the best pieces of news you had received in a long time. You wanted nothing more than to be with Hvitserk as your husband. That was the closest to an ideal life you could dream up especially now that Herry was gone.

“I trust your mind Hvitty.” You said as you placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. “I will wait patiently. You know how much I have grown to care for you”

Hvitserk bit his lip at your words. He wanted desperately for you to say you loved him not merely ‘cared’ for him. However, he knew that you had lost Herry not long ago and you would not be so quick to confess such a thing. Since he loved you already, he was willing to wait to hear the three words whenever you were able to utter them.

“I love you Y/N.” He sighed. “And the time will come when I will have you all to myself. We will no longer have to tiptoe around Ivar’s madness.” He said before he kissed your cheek.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Do not get comfortable with the idea so quickly. After all, I am a demanding man myself. You will earn your keep.” He teased. “As you promised, you will cook at least five meals a week yourself, despite us having servants. Oh, and of course you shall give me three children I can dote on.”

“Three?” You smiled with curiosity. “Why the odd number?

“I suppose I want one less than my mother had. Ivar was the fourth born, and well…….you see how that turned out.” He smirked.

You gave Hvitserk a passionate kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The two of you were stolen away in a new portion of the estate that had been built. The rooms were not yet fully decorated so no one really came there with the exception of decorators during the daytime. Hvitserk looked into your eyes with a passion that made your heart race. He was very much like Herry in how he cared for you. Because of this, you cared for the older Ragnarsson despite never even laying with him once.

“You better return to me in one piece.” You said as you caressed his hands that were intertwined with yours.

“I know why you are so desperate for me to survive.”

“Because I care for you of course.”

“That is not your only reason. I know for a fact that you lust after me.” He teased. “Do not think I have not noticed how you eye me at all times. If you do not control yourself, I will begin thinking that you are using me solely for my body, Y/N.”

You laughed at his remark as you stood so the two of you could return to the main portion of the estate. However, Hvitserk stopped you. Instead, he brought you back to his lap and tickled you mercilessly.

_________________

Despite what Hvitserk had said, you knew he was being put in a very dangerous position. Out of all his brothers and close friends, Ivar had Hvitserk in the center of the greatest amount of fighting. You could not understand how your husband could risk his brother’s life in such a fashion but not that of Halfdan and Harald. You knew telling Hvitserk to make Ivar change the battle plans would be fruitless. He did not care to ask for his little brother’s mercy and had already thrown his life into the hands of his Gods.

You, on the other hand, had the ability to get Ivar to do things for you. That was, if you actually took your time to be ‘nice’ to him. You cared for Hvitserk and if seducing Ivar meant saving his life, you would do so in a heartbeat. After all, you could do nothing to save Herry but Hvtiserk would not be put in an early grave due to Ivar’s whims. Not if you could help it!

“Ivar.” You said as you finally found him still seated in the empty Great Hall.

He looked at you with annoyance but other than that, he beckoned you forward. When you sat upon his lap, he was surprised and shifted in his seat. As you placed your arms around his neck, your husband looked at your with a grain of mistrust.

“What is it Y/N?” He said as he coldly eyed you. “You have never liked sitting on my lap before. Even when I try to pull you to me, you resist, but now you do so willingly?” He furrowed his brow as he finished speaking.

“I…I suppose you are correct. It is just that…..well…” You tried to find the best words as not to raise his suspicion. “I feel……the need to be touched now that my womanly issue is getting better.”

Ivar smirked at your revelation. But just as quickly, his face went serious.

“You toy with me.” He said as his nostrils flared and eyes became large. “I am in no mood for your games.”

Seeing you were losing control of him, you kept your voice serene and calm as you stroked the back of his neck with your fingers.

“I did not come to taunt you Ivar.” You said. “It has been a long while since I have felt….well….pleasure. Though I have given you permission to find comfort with Elizabeth, I myself grow anxious for comfort.”

Ivar’s eyes perked up as he brought his face closer to yours. He looked up at you in the same manner he did when he spotted you at Bjorn’s Great Hall.

You had to admit, when he wasn’t raging, Ivar could look at you with great devotion and love. Perhaps Bjorn was correct when he had told you that Ivar loved you more than anything in the entire world.

You pressed your lips to your husband’s own very gently as you cupped his face. As you pulled away, you looked into his blue eyes that were nearly wet with tears. Just like that, Ivar had melted in your hands.

“You know that I love you.” He whispered as he searched your Y/C eyes. “If you really mean it, I wish to come back to lay with you not just for tonight. He paused. “I have not found release elsewhere and you insisting that your sister comfort me is unfair.”

Ivar pulled you closer as he continued to look at you as if he was on the verge of crying.

“I understand and am sorry to have made you feel so.” You replied. “I thought that since other men–.”

“Stop that. How many time must I tell you that I am not like other men!” Ivar snapped. “I want to lay with you, my wife.” He paused. “I want you always with me, do you understand Y/N?”

“Yes.” You soothed him as you gently caressed the prickly hairs of his sideburns.

Ivar leaned forward and gave you a soft peck on your lips.

“Remember, I chose you.” He said. “When you constantly push me away, it wounds me.”

You leaned down and parted Ivar’s lips with yours. It didn’t take him long to become enthralled as he passionately kissed you back. His hands traveled from your waist to your breasts as he gently groped them a little roughly. He then slowly took his lips from yours and slid his tongue down your jawline to your neck. When he found your sensitive spot, on the crook of your neck, he began to give the flesh open mouth kisses and bites. Stopping abruptly, he stood you up from his lap.

“Come, let us go to our chamber.” Ivar said as he tapped you hip.

_____________

In your bed chamber, Ivar was undressed by thralls while you went to your jewelry box. You grabbed one of the small vials your mother had been sending to you with the tincture. Uncorking the tiny silver bottle, you swallowed the contents down quickly. By you the time got to the side of the bed, Ivar had already tossed all the thralls out of the room. You stood in front of him utterly naked with the exception of tiny silver waist chain that you often wore for vanity purposes.

After looking at you a while, Ivar took your hand and kissed it before pulling you down gently onto the bed. He laid you on your back slowly before rolling on top of you. When he was over you, your husband hovered a moment as he brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I am so happy right now.” He said.

Ivar then leaned down and parted your lips sensually as he took you into a kiss. It was a needy and erotic one as he possessed your lips and tongue with his own. Moving from you lips, he went to your neck as he bit and sucked at the sensitive flesh leaving love bites from your neck to your shoulder. You fought the urge to moan as he positioned his nude body between your legs. As you laid there and allowed him to give you more open mouthed kisses on your neck, he cupped your right breast roughly. Immediately you sensed his excitement was increasing. The manner in which he groped your breast and the way his grinding increased in pace, you knew he would not be doing foreplay much longer.

You could feel Ivar’s erection pressed tightly against your mound as he began to breathe erratically. As you caressed his back, you could practically feel his excitement as heart thumped against you bare breasts. Crashing his lips to yours again, he slipped his hand in-between your bodies and grabbed his member. As his lips devoured yours, he slowly dragged his cock against your opening that was very ready for him. Despite how you felt about Ivar, the things he did always made your body betray you. It was as if your body had a mind of it’s own when it came to responding to your husband’s touch.

“Y/N.” Ivar whispered as his face was hovering over yours. “Open your eyes for me.

As you slowly opened your eyes despite not wanting to, Ivar continued to rub himself against your entrance - you tried your best to think of Hvitserk.

“That is better.” He said as he bit his lip to contain a moan. “Do not take your eyes off me. Alright?”

He gave you another quick kiss on your forehead as he pushed the tip of his member into your hot and slick entrance.

“Gods! I have missed you being in my arms.” He moaned as he gave you another long kiss.

As he was kissing you, Ivar took advantage of that moment to push himself inside you fully. In the midst of kissing him, you moaned into his mouth as the pain and pleasure overtook you. He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes before pressing his forehead to yours.

“That is it Y/N. Keep looking at me.” He said in a hushed tone. “I am going to give you a baby tonight.” He added before planting a kiss to your neck.

Ivar picked up the pace of his thrusting as he rested against your body fully. As he erotically thrust his cock deeply into you, he kissed you passionately. You both became covered in sweat within seconds. Though you tried your best to turn you head from him, your husband was relentless. His deep pounding of your womanhood and his breathless kisses quickly brought the familiar tingling to your pelvis. Intense heat rushed to your walls and clit and your orgasm began to build with sweet aching.

“Hvitserk.” You said in your mind - picturing the golden haired Ragnarsson on top of you.

“Y/N, I’m going to cum for you.” Ivar grunted against you ear.

As his hips began to move faster, he gripped your waist and placed is face against your cheek. He whimpered things in his native tongue as his orgasm took over his movements. You felt his cock twitch and then felt his hips stutter their pace as he groaned in your ear again. Ivar began pumping his hips frantically as his cock finally erupted within you - sending months of pent up seed deep within you.

The pace and the friction of his thrusts made your orgasm meet his. As you felt yourself go and your weak legs began to shake, you screamed out in ecstasy. It was one of your most intense orgasms ever as you envisioned Hvitserk on top of you instead of Ivar. Your husband’s orgasm lasted longer than yours as he kept thrusting long after your high had washed over you. He finally stopped moving and collapsed on top of you - hair and body wet as if someone had doused him with water.

“I love you Y/N.” He whispered breathlessly before drifting off to sleep.

__________

You were able to convince Ivar to move Hvitserk to his side prior to them leaving for the battle against King Kol Oddsson. Not only did your husband do as you asked willingly, he never questioned your reasoning or your inquisitiveness. He also informed you that after the battle, they were to head immediately into their raiding of the new lands, so you knew you would not see them again for a long while.

During their absence, you fell very ill. At first you ignored it and did your duties as always, hoping it would clear on it’s own. However, a few months later, it was still there and worse than before. You soon became too sick and weak to leave the estate so a healer had to be summoned by a servant to examine you in your chamber.

“You are not ill my dear woman, you are with child.” The excited old healer said as she finished examining you in your chamber. “At least three months along from the looks of it.”

“Tell no one of this!” You angrily demanded.

“Yes, Mistress.” The healer replied with a hint of fear

‘With Child’! The two words echoed in your mind as you began to feel a state of panic you had not felt in a long time. Hvitserk would leave you when he found out that you were carrying Ivar’s child.

How could it be? You had taken your tinctures everyday without fail. The concoction had never failed any woman in your homeland before. In fact, it was so strong that at higher concentrations, it even rendered women permanently infertile. The fact that Ivar had managed to seed you despite this time tested method made your heart sink. You felt as if your God had finally abandoned you for good. To allow you to be seeded by a man such as Ivar was a punishment only God could deliver. Perhaps, you deserved it for getting Herry killed.

Then another thought came to your mind. Your escape! If Ivar was a overly attentive to you now, the addition of a child would make things even worse. How would you be able to sneak out of Kattegat then? You sighed as your laid in your bed with your thoughts racing. How ironic. Despite all your actions, in the end, your husband had gotten his hearts desire. The fact that the men would be returning also crossed your mind. You wondered if you should risk killing the baby in the womb despite the danger to your person.

There were herbs that could accomplish the task but they were hard to find in Kattegat. The one person you knew that could get them, was your mother. However, she only gave them to Heathen women. She did not assist Christian women in destroying their babies in the womb due to God’s command. Since she was your only option and would never give them willingly, you had to be stealthy when you went to her home next.

“I will just steal them.” You affirmed to yourself as you yawned.

As your hand traced your stomach, you had an overwhelming desire to runaway with Hvitserk. How much more could you take of being around Ivar, the man who forced you to kill your first love? A man who also seemed intent on reducing your freedom of movement with each passing month. Your husband was controlling and possessive and it had not improved with time. Perhaps the plans that Hvisterk was making could be rushed somehow…you thought

“I will not be a mother to Ivar’s seed. He is wicked to the core and his children will be no different.” You said to yourself.

________________

“What do you mean?” You shouted at your mother in her living room.

You didn’t know what to do at her revelation. What was a person to do when they had been so betrayed? How could your own mother have put you in such a bad position? As you paced the floor, she watched you with a serene expression. When you had arrived at her home, she knew immediately that you were with child. She stated that it was noticeable due to your face and breasts rounding out. Then she also confessed that she had not been giving you the tincture as you thought.

“Think of it Y/N, you have not been fair to any of us. Every one of your actions results in other people getting hurt. These games you play with your insane husband had to come to an end eventually. I do not like him anymore than you do but we are stuck. The sooner you learn to adjust and accept it, the better it will be for everyone.”

“You lied to me mother!” You screamed. “You told me you were giving me what I asked for and now look at me. Nearly four months along with a evil man’s child!”

“I’m sorry I tricked dear you but it was the only way. Your decision making is getting people hurt. Look at what happened to poor Herry.”

“Don’t you dare bring up his name you……you witch!” You seethed as tears fell. “He was my heart and I would have done anything to prevent what happened if I could have. How dare you? You are a cruel woman and I do not ever wish to see you again. Do you hear me? Never!”

With that you stormed out of your mother’s home determined to cut her out of your life. She had only pretended to understand your need for the contraceptive tinctures. Every last one of the vials she had been sending her thrall to deliver merely contained a wellness concoction. It was her fault you were now with child for a man you wanted to kill half the time. No matter, you would figure things out on your own.

_______________

Over the next few weeks you tried everything to get the child out of your body. Since you could not gain help from your mother nor go to any healers, you tried your own remedies. You first tried to throw yourself down some stairs - which only resulted in a very bruised body and a sprained wrist. The next thing you attempted was to find Pennyroyal leaves on Ivar’s massive property. Though you lucked out and found some, it was a highly dangerous and toxic plant. The wrong dosage and you would die right along with the baby in your womb.

Still, you risked it. Unfortunately, all you earned for your careful dosing was two weeks in bed with a fever, cramps, fatigue and light bleeding from your private area. When the bleeding had occurred, you were initially very happy because you thought for certain that the baby would pass out of your body. However, the bleeding lasted only three days and stopped without anything else occurring.

While you were you were still recovering in bed, Ivar and the other men all returned to Kattegat. When he did not see you come to greet him at the docks, he was beyond livid. Despite his servants and thralls trying to speak to him, he shut them all down. Your husband returned to the estate in a violent mood as he set off looking for you. Finally, the eldest of his servants was able to calm him and finally get him to listen to what was occurring. All anyone knew was that you were sick and being cared for by healers, so that is what she told Ivar.

You had made sure that the healers kept their mouths shut and the two thralls who attended you in the chamber were threatened to keep quiet as well. A very concerned Ivar burst through the doors of your chambers without first taking his bath or eating.

“What is the matter with my wife?” He demanded

The healer that had been asleep by your side, rubbed his eyes and asked your husband to calm himself.

“Prince Ivar welcome. I have been caring for your wife due to her having severe symptoms. She is with child you see and it seems–”

Ivar’s blue eyes widened. He grabbed hold of the man’s tunic tightly as he tried to absorb the words.

“Say that again.” Ivar demanded.

“Your wife, she is with child. She has been suffering great maladies and other symptoms but other than that, she is well.”

Ivar rushed to your side as you slept and gazed at you with overwhelming happiness washing over him. He gently lifted the furs that were on you to get a better look at your form. As his eyes beheld your belly, that was quite rounded since you were nearing five months, Ivar’s eyes welled with tears. He then glanced at your face, which appeared peaceful in your slumbering state, before he got on the bed beside you. Your husband cuddled close to you and remained there a while, caressing you while you slept.

_____________

Three weeks later, you found yourself trying to not lose yet another good man. Hvitserk was enraged as you expected and not willing to be around you any longer.

“I will not come around you again and I want you to avoid me as well.” An angry Hvitserk said as the two of you stood in the courtyard

He had packed all his things from Ivar’s estate and was planning to spend his time in Ubbe and Torvi’s home. Since his home was being renovated, he would be at his elder brother’s place a good while.

“Please believe me when I say it is not wanted nor was it intentional.” You said with desperation.

Hvitserk glanced at you with fury in his eyes for a short moment before throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

No matter how much you asked him to calm down and look at you, he would not. He shook his head and refused to stand still. Even when you begged, he would not look you in the eyes again as he clenched his teeth and paced.

“I do not wish to listen to your stories any further. Why I am even here right now…I do not even know.”

“Hvitty, please.” You said on the verge of tears. “I did not mean for any of this to happen. My mother she–”

“I do not care for your excuses Y/N.” He interrupted. “You have hurt me more than I even care to say. Just stay with your husband! It is where you belong now. I must move on with my life and find a woman who can make me happy. You are surely not that person from what I can see.”

The words cut like a knife as you stood in front of the man you cared for whilst with child for his brother that you hated. It was a pathetic situation and you wished you had powers to change it all.

“Goodbye Y/N.” Hvisterk said without looking at you. “I will try to avoid you at all cost. Please do not make a scene by attempting to speak to me anytime we meet at events. When we gather as a family, I will keep my words short and curteous.”

With that, Hvitserk left you alone in the courtyard without a formal goodbye or even a second glance.

_____________

Ivar’s child would not be contained any longer. As you laid on your back trying to find comfort in your prayer, you could feel the tension in your hips and pelvic region as your contractions got closer together. Your heart raced as if you had just finished sprinting from one side of Kattegat to the other. Truly the pain was making it quite difficult to catch your breath as the midwives kept ordering you to breathe better.

“Breathe better? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I am in so much pain?”You thought as you cursed the women in your mind.

As sweat drenched your body, you realized that it was going to be a very difficult delivery, despite never birthing a child before. Ivar burst into the room upon his crutch and stood by one of the midwives for a moment. He felt guilt as he looked at you and realized how much discomfort you were in - your white gown practically see through from all your sweating.

Without hesitating further, he sat beside you on the bed and placed down his crutch. As you sat up with your legs wide open, you grunted as a wave of pain took over you for what seemed like an eternity. You turned and glanced at Ivar. If you had been yourself, you would have told him to sit in the chair but you were in too much pain to fuss with anyone. You could not believe that some women went through such pain ten or more times. This was your first and you wanted to rip the skin off your own thighs just to take your attention of the pain coming form between your legs. Even your back hurt as if someone had kicked you ferociously.

Ivar positioned you in front of him with no resistance from coming from you. You just wanted the baby to come out so you could have some relief. Finally, one of the midwives took a look under the linen sheet they had placed over your lower body for modesty.

“It looks like you will be ready to push soon.” She said as she smiled at you.

With that, she spread your legs apart, as wide as she could get them and placed a hand at the bottom of your opening. Feeling around, she looked up at you and smiled.

“The head has crowned. With three to five good pushed, you ought to work it out in no time.”

Ivar smiled at the news and kissed your sweat soaked cheek. However, you were too engrossed in your pain to even notice. You felt the worst amount of pain and burning coming from your private area as the baby’s head stretched your entrance to it’s limits. It was as if someone was holding both sides of your vagina and attempting to pull it in opposite directions.

“It hurts too much!” You shouted.

But you were in too much pain. No one heard a thing except a string of jumbled words that made no sense. Ivar held you close as you leaned against his chest, tossing your head from one side to the next as the pain became worse. The midwives would not allow you to push until they were ready and it was taking all your willpower to listen to them. Your mother suddenly entered with Elizabeth in tow. Grabbing a clean cloth, your mother took a seat beside you on the bed and began wiping your face. As she did so, you made sure to shoot her a glare, pain or not.

After all, it was her fault you were in the position you were in in first place. Her tricking you was wicked enough but to refuse to help you terminate the baby was even worse. She had forced your hand and you did not appreciate it at all.

“Why are you here?” You angrily snapped in-between the bouts of pain. “Get out!”

“She is your mother Y/N.” Ivar said as he tried to calm you.

“Mother, I want you to get out before I–.”

A massive sharp pain hit you and your words caught in your throat. Just then, someone you never expected to see again entered. Hvitserk walked in despite two female thralls attempting to stop him. His eyes went wide when he saw you and the state you were in. Without a word to anyone, he knelt at your bedside and took your hand in his. You could not believe that he was there in the flesh. After what he had said when you last saw him in the courtyard, you were certain that he hated you.

“What is the matter with her?” A worried Hvitserk asked Ivar. “She appears too weak.”

Your husband, who was scared despite giving the appearance of being calm, looked at his brother with helplessness.

“They will not let her push yet.” He replied.

“May I sit there?” Hvitserk motioned to your mother.

Your mother reluctantly gave up her position beside you in the bed to the worried Ragnarsson. Hvitserk sat beside you straightaway - not caring what Ivar would say or think. Luckily, the stress of the moment actually made your husband more open to having his elder brother around. He feared that you were dying based on your groans and weakening physical state.

“When will you let her push it out?” Ivar asked with concern. “She grows weaker by the minute.” He added nervously.

Hvitserk’s mind raced. If you were to die childbirth, he would never be able to forgive his brother. He knew that you never wanted to have children with Ivar and this was most likely the worst moment of your life. Soothing your head against his shoulder, Hvitserk whispered to you.

“Forgive me.” He said. “Please survive this so we can leave.”

“Okay Mistress, let us try to push this eager baby out.” One of the midwives finally announced loudly as she took her place in-between your legs.

Lifting the sheet, she spread your weak legs wider as you grabbed onto Hvitserk’s hand tightly. Ivar glanced at you and took your other hand. He knew you two were still not close despite you being with child, but he believed that once you saw the baby, things would change.

“Would you look at that. The head is nearly out on it’s own. It should take only a few pushes to get this little one free.” Another midwife said as she looked over the other’s shoulder.

“Why is there so much blood?” A worried Hvitserk asked as he saw some thralls taking away red stained cloths. “Hey! I am asking you question!” He seethed at the women.

“Calm yourself young Master.” The midwife between your legs said. “It is normal for some women to bleed excessively. She will be fine.”

Hvtiserk did not like her response but relented. He focused on comforting you instead. As he brushed your sweaty forehead with his hand, the elder Ragnarsson gazed at your pained expression. Ivar, who was also sat at your other side pressed his face to yours.

“Come on Y/N.” He said with his lips against your cheek. “You are stronger than even some of the men I know. You cannot not die on me. Please.”

At that moment, Ivar cared more about you leaving him alone in the world than he cared about becoming a father. The thought of you dying was more than he could handle. It frightened him so much that he was relieved that Hvitserk had arrived to share the burden. If not, he would have lost it in front of everyone long ago.

When the midwives finally told you to push, you thought you would not be able to do so, however, your body seemed to work on instinct. The moment you bared down, your muscles and nerves kept the rhythmic contractions going. After the third push, the baby’s head finally hung from your opening.

“Hey! There we are.” The midwife exclaimed. “What a great deal of hair this one has. And as black as a raven’s wing to boot.” The woman added with a laugh.

She then made sure the cord was not around the baby’s neck while you rested. The pain in your body eased a little now that the head had come out. Still you were eager to get it over with. You hated your mother for putting you in the situation and glared at her while she watched nervously over the midwife’s shoulders. As for Elizabeth, she appeared happy, however, she kept stealing glances at Ivar. Despite him rejecting her, your sister still harbored feelings towards him which made the moment that more difficult for her to witness.

After allowing you to rest a while longer, the women instructed you to push again. With five good pushes and Hvitserk practically taking over in encouraging and comforting you the entire time,….everyone finally heard it. Ivar’s child came into the world with a powerful cry that filled the room. He pulled your body to him and held you close as his eyes welled with tears. He could not believe it. The baby that boasted powerful lungs and seemed to please the midwives, was his. All his life the Gods had denied him so much but in that moment, he felt as if he could fight a thousand wars for them on his own.

“Be careful of how you take hold of Y/N. She is in a weakened state and still has more to do.” Hvisterk said as he took you from Ivar and rested your head against his chest.

“Of course.” Ivar replied with his eyes still beholding you with admiration.

“It’s a Princess for your two.” One of the midwives announced.

Ivar was elated as he looked at his brother with his excitement building. Hvitserk smiled and then looked down at you. He wasn’t sure if you had heard the woman but in that moment, he resolved to stick by your side. True, he had been furious with you, but now, none of it mattered. Hvisterk just wanted Ivar out of the picture so that the two of you could be happy. Surprisingly, when the flaxen haired Ragnarsson kissed your forehead, Ivar didn’t get upset. He actually smiled at his elder brother assuming that he was happy for the both of you.

The newborn was set upon a table so the midwives could look it over for any defects.

Ivar suddenly became afraid. His expression changed as he nervously held your hand and glanced to the floor. ‘I’m a cripple. Why did I not think about that fact all this while? He thought to himself. The thing he feared most was punishing a child to go through what he had. Ivar did not want his daughter to be like him and prayed that the Gods did not curse her with his affliction. As for your mother, despite your anger towards her, she put her hand to her mouth as she shed tears of joy at seeing her new grandchild. Utterly soaked in sweat, you were nearly asleep as you rested against Hvitserk, who rocked you gently. Ivar leaned over and kissed your cheek - excitement literately emanating from his very being. The midwife was headed towards him and he could barely contain himself. Ivar was apprehensive at first, but the woman reassured him before she carefully placed the newborn into his trembling hands.

“Meet your newborn daughter.” The old midwife said. “She is a beauty, if I have ever seen one. Strong like an ox too.”

“So she….she is healthy?” He asked with great concern upon his face.

“Not only is she healthy…..she is practically perfect.” The midwife assured him with a wink.

Ivar was relieved and awestruck as he stared at the tiny baby in his arms.

“I cannot believe how small she is.” He exclaimed as he admired her.

Ivar truly felt as if he was dreaming as he glanced over at your weakened frame for a moment. Taking the cord that still connected you and the crying little bundle in his arms, he bit through, severing it. Your husband then spit the blood onto the floor, as was Viking practice. He held his daughter close to his chest and ensured that the swaddling sheets were keeping her warm.

“Look at our daughter Y/N.” He beamed as he leaned closer to you. “She is so beautiful and amazing…like you.” Ivar said before planting a kiss upon your cheek.

You looked at the baby with eyes that were heavy with sleep. You could not believe that the child in Ivar’s arms was yours. It made the moment bittersweet as you tried your best to feel something for the innocent life. But as you glanced at Ivar, you knew the child could never grow into anything good. As you drifted off to sleep, Hvitserk glared at Ivar as he caressed your sweaty forehead. No matter what, he was determined more than ever to take you far away from Kattegat so you two could finally be free of his brother.

______________

People stopped and stared when they spotted Ivar the Boneless riding his horse drawn chariot swiftly through Kattegat. Utterly beside himself with joy, he had left you and his newborn daughter sleeping peacefully back home. Much too happy with his life to sit still, he guided his white horse at top speed while he screamed at the top of his lungs in celebration. He finally had what he had longed for - a happy family of his own.

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