#hviserk

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Introduction/Part One

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, (future) Bjorn

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Word Count: 2445

Warnings: time travel being possible, bullying, getting chased by some very confused vikings, imprisonment

Masterlist Here

"Cmon Jason. Give it a rest," you heard one of his friends tell him, but you were already crossing the bridge to get away from them.

You'd came to the park after school to relax after yet another hellish day of studying. You were a history student, obsessed with the Vikings, and sadly for some reason Jason's enemy number one. Apparently, the frat boy still held a grudge for the time you rejected him last year and decided to make your life a misery.

As you were halfway across the bridge you heard laughing then footsteps and just as you went to turn you felt him grab your bag off your shoulder. Well, he tried. You grabbed it back, yelling "help!" As his other friend tried to help him pull it away. 

You glanced behind you to see if anyone was near but no. You were alone of the bridge 6 feet at least above the deep lake. "Dude!" You heard the friend again as your head whipped back around.

"fine!" Jason yelled as he let go of the bag just as you had attempted to tug it from him. "Wait no!" You heard his voice before you felt the wood dig into your back and then heard a sickening snap.

You screamed as you felt the wind rush past your face, hair whipping around as your body hurtled headfirst towards the water. You felt your head sink in and the water ring in your ears like church bells as your eyes screwed up tight.

You waited for your head to crash against the rocks but instead felt your legs hit the soft ground, your butt and shoulders soon following. Your head hit the ground gently as a groan left your lips. As your eyes opened you realised not only did you feel no water or soggy clothing but that a scattered sunlight was washing over your face. 

"What the-" you muttered as you sat up. Your guitar bag was still clutched in one hand, your backpack hooked around your elbow, and now your earphones had been tossed behind you during the fall. That however did not concern you as much as the overwhelming greenery.

The Forrest around you had winding trees up to the sky with whispers of squirrels and rabbits in the background. You pulled yourself to your feet as your eyes scanned the woods. "Where am I?" You muttered as you grabbed your headphones and shoved them in your bag. 

You checked your phone however there was not only no signal but now the time had become dashes alongside the battery percentage. The Wi-Fi and Bluetooth signals were now just colourful blobs and even when you tried opening the emergency number call it refused to let you punch in the digits. You sighed and turned it off, hoping that by the time you found your way out the Forrest it would have rebooted so you could call your parents or maybe even a hospital since you'd obviously hit your head very hard.

You put the phone in your bag and zipped it up, even using the number lock your mother insisted you put on it to keep your bag safe. You weren't sure which way to go. After all no matter where you walked you could either be going closer or further to whatever destination would be the safest.

Fuck it. You thought. There's only one way to find out. You walked through the forest, not even trying to not step on twigs or ruffle leaves since you were probably just far deeper into the campus woods than you'd ever been before. However, then you heard voices.

Well laughter really. At least three men. Your footsteps slowed encase Jason and his friends had somehow made you lose your mind and we're torturing you but no. Instead, you held back a gasp as you peaked through the leaves to see four men with their backs to you.

One was sat on a log playing with what looked like a dagger while another two practised throwing axes. Fuck. All three were dressed as if they were Vikings. Perhaps you'd been studying them too much and had officially lost your marbles.

Or perhaps the other Viking nerds in your school had formed a club. As you debated taking a step forward one of the men missed his throw causing another to yell out a jab. As the man span round to answer his eyes stopped when he saw you. His hand shot out to nudge the man next to him who turned around.

He was a brunette man with a long braid down how back "I'm Ubbe," the boy called as he stepped forward, "Who are you? Why are you here?" He called however your eyes wandered down then widened as you saw him gripping his axe.

"Tell us!" The boy who had missed called, stepping closer. Your eyes wandered to the third who was reaching for something in his belt when you finally made up your mind.

Run. You turned, sprinting as fast as your legs could carry you. Your feet hammered against the dirt as their shouts echoed through the forest. You didn't dare glance back or stop for the branches whipping against your face. There was finally a break in the trees. Freedom. Safety you thought.

As you ran you arrived at the top of a hill. You turned to look down, expecting to see your campus when dread filled your blood. No this wasn't real. A village of Vikings now looked up at where you stood on the hill.

You stood for a moment panting as you overlooked it all. That was until you heard them again. "Stop right there!" Ubbe all but screamed. 

You ran again. To your left was a high cliff facing a grey blue ocean and to your right was 3 very angry looking Vikings. You decided to take your chances with the clueless as you barrelled down the hill into what looked to be like a market.

Despite being the least terrifying person here they all jumped out your way, gasping and screaming as you ran all while Ubbe and the others chased you. 

You were running towards a bridge by a stream and decided for one last second to glance behind you. They were just running around the corner when you felt a hand grab your foot as the other got swept up in the air.

It was as if your body took flight as you fell to the ground with a large thump. You groaned as you tried to pick yourself up just for a large hand to grab your shoulder and flip you on your back. 

As you stared at his electric blue eyes your own eyes widened. "Ivar?" You whispered and his eyes widened so much you wondered if it hurt however just as he went to speak Ubbe pulled him off him.

Ubbe. Your brain clicked. There's no possible way. It couldn't be. Surely not. Ubbes hand pulling you to your feet. "I asked you a question," he growled as you gasped for air. As much as you wanted to be tough and brave and all the other things these Vikings were being faced to face to Ubbe was too much as the spots began to cloud your vision and you felt your body fall limp as the world faded to black.

-

As you began to stir you half expected to open your eyes and see your dorm room, but the hard stick pressed against your spine made you doubtful. Your eyes opened to find yourself in a wooden cage in the corner of what looked like a bedroom. It was dark and suddenly felt very small as your hands grabbed the bars as you began to shake them.

“Fuck,” you grunted as you hit your hand against the frame but instead of it budging now your hand just hurt. Before you could try for any longer you froze when you saw the door slowly push open.

“I see what you mean,” a woman’s voice muttered as she approached your cage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her or the men behind her, “What is she wearing?” she whispered.

“We don’t know,”

“We found her like this,”

“Do you think she’s a witch?” you felt your blood run cold at the man’s word.

The woman stood up and turned to what you soon realised were her sons. In fact, now you realised who they all were. It was Sigurd who’d claimed you may be a witch but how could he possibly be real? He was a tv character after all.

“Perhaps but we cannot know for sure yet,” Aslaug whispered to her son, “Can you speak child?” she called out to you as if she was shouting on a dog. Your head raised so you could get a better look, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“What are we going to do?” Ubbe asked. As the four spoke amongst themselves you realised one was missing. Ivar was nowhere to be seen.

“Your father should be home any day now. We will wait for him,” Aslaug finally determined, “I have never seen someone like this. I do not wish to find out what harm she can cause alone,” with that the four turned to leave, shutting the door and leaving you in the stale dark once more.

You sighed as you leaned back against the cage however as your eyes scanned the room you noticed your bags sitting in the corner making your head instantly perk up. You knew you didn’t have anything sharp in it but as your stomach rumbled you realised what you did need. Food.

As you began to wonder how you would get to your things you heard the door crack open. You looked up as Ivar dragged himself into the room, constantly checking over his shoulder before he shut the door and brought himself over to your cage. His eyes scanned your frame as you brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly.

“Who are you?” he murmured, his eyes landing on your face, “and how do you know my name?” the silence that followed was only broken by the loud rumble of your stomach once more as you winced. “You’re hungry?” he asked.

Finally, you nodded, and a smile quirked onto his lips, “So you do understand?” you nodded again, “If you tell me who you are I’ll bring you something to eat,”

You paused as you decided if it was worth breaking the façade, you’d created but as your stomach churned you realised starving to death before Ragnar returned was not worth it. you whispered your name, but your voice was hoarse from lack of use.

Ivars’s head tilted slightly as his eyebrows knitted, “What a usual name,” he mused.

You bit back a laugh. “Coming from Ivar the boneless,” you muttered.

His eyes widened, a look of what you couldn’t tell if shock or rage or both washed over his face. “What did you call me?” he half yelled, grabbing onto the bars of the cage you were suddenly thankful for.

“It’s what everyone calls you!” you rushed out, pushing yourself as far away as possible, “In the textbooks that’s what legend says you were called I’m sorry,”

He paused, his hands slipping from the bar as the confused look returned, “What is a textbook?”

“Like a history book,” you said but that did little to explain it to him, “It’s like- “you paused trying to think what the closest thing to a Viking textbook was, “It’s like how you pass down stories in songs! We write them down in textbooks, so nobody forgets,”

Ivar paused for a moment as he finally relaxed again, “Where did you come from?” he asked, “And how do they know who I am? What have you told them?”

“I haven’t told them anything, my teachers they taught it to me,” you said, finally allowing yourself to sit at ease again, “I’m from the future,” the words felt foreign in your mouth as Ivar’s blue eyes widened.

“Prove it,”

“You’re Ivar the boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” you spoke but your voice was shaky as you tried to remember all you could, “Brother of Bjorn Ironside who explored the Mediterranean sea. Son of Aslaug. You go on to command the great heathen army,” you said and as you spoke Ivar looked like a child being read a bedtime story about pirates and mermaids, “You Ivar are a legend where I am from,” perhaps bending the truth a little but what would he know.

“And who- “

You cut him off this time when you felt your stomach lurch, “You said you would feed me. I won’t tell you anything else till you live up to your word,” you tried to sound firm, but it clearly wasn’t your style.

Still though Ivar nodded as he slowly began to drag himself away, “I shall return,” he said as he opened the door, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Don’t go anywhere,” he teased before shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes as you sunk back into the wood behind you. “Oh god he really is nuts,” you whispered. Then again perhaps it was you that was nuts. After all you had just been talking to a Viking who’d died thousands of years ago.

General Taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate

Vikings Taglist: @bellroclucky03 @ringpopdust @hypocritic-trash-baby @tessakate

#vikings #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #vikings x you #ubbe x reader #ubbe #ubbe imagine #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe ragnorsson x reader #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd ragnorsson x reader #sigurd x reader #sigurd #sigurd snake eye x reader #hviserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #ivar x reader #ivar #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnorsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader

[therealcalicali]

Vikings ask who is hvitserk favourite brother

Oh, that's an easy one, doll.🥰❤️ It's definitely Ivar. Because of all the Ragnarssons, their bond was genuine.

For example, Ivar and Hviserk shared numerous life experiences. Even the manner in which they lost their lovers paralleled in many ways.

And on the occasions where one abandoned the other, fate somehow reunited them. Therefore, Ivar and Hvitserk are the prototypical brotherly duo. ❤️

#answers and asks #ask answered #answered asks #asks

[lisinfleur]

Justice - Part II

Author’s Notes | I had someone requesting me a part II for this fiction, however, due to the many things that my computer passed through these times, I unfortunately lost the print of this request. So, I made a generic part II, waiting that my requester will come back and tell me what he/she wanted! Feel free to request me more of this, sweet anon of mine! Or anyone who wants!

Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Servant! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon, part II for this fiction Words | 1163 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, alcohol abuse.

Justice was done.

Yet, your master's heart was destroyed. You could feel it in the tight way he held the horse reins or clenched his jaw behind you during the whole way he made at a slow pace from his house to the Great Hall. You could see it in the few times he released the reins to wipe his face from the silent tears you knew he cried all the way back to what was his former home, from when he was single.

You remember you served him and your ex-mistress in that place sometimes when he came to see his brothers.

"Bring me some mead," he ordered putting his sword over the table and sitting down on a chair. You softly placed his cloak near him and searched for the amphorae to bring him a cup of mead, but instead of letting you take the amphora with you, he stopped your hands, holding it with him.

At the first one he drunk dry, you thought he would be mourning for a time... But after the fifth, he was drunk already. And angry... And full of tears in his eyes.

Your poor master...

"More!"

His orders were starting to ache in your heart. You didn't want to see him like that! Even more for a woman like your former mistress and what she did...

"You're drinking too much..."

"I said more!" he yelled, already clumsy. "You said you wanted to serve me... Now do it! Serve me more mead!"

His hand hit the cup against the table and you noticed what was happening.

He wasn't really there, treating you badly. It was his anger speaking. His heart, hurt... And you stood beside him, decided to help your master to heal.

"And you said I wasn't a slave anymore. I asked to be your servant... Not to keep being a tool. Now, serve you doesn't mean I'll always give you what you want, prince Hvitserk. Sometimes... serving you well means I'll give you what you really need."

He looked at you frowning, ready to fight you, argue, hurt to relieve his aching heart.

"And what you need is not more mead!" you sentenced, pushing the cup away from his hand.

Watching as his anger scaled up and he got up to face you, ready to probably put you away from his table and Hall for that audacity.

But when he got up, you stood forward. And before he could speak, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug that got him fully surprised.

"What... What are you doing, woman?" he asked, completely taken aback.

And you filled his ears with the words you knew he was needing to hear.

"It wasn't your fault. You made no mistake. It was all on her... You gave her more than a woman could ask from the gods. You made her a queen when you, yourself, wasn't a king yet. It was on her, master Hvitserk. You did nothing wrong..."

He had started to struggle on your arms to get free. But your voice stopped his efforts. And you felt his body ceding... His face nestled in your shoulder and you felt the sobs engulfing him; this time, winning him completely.

"I loved her... I loved her so bad!" he mumbled, drunk and defeated, with his face hid against the crook of your neck and his hands embracing your body so tight.

You kept your arms around him, caressing his back and his hair, allowing him to cry everything he needed.

At some point, the two of you sat on the table and he leaned, keeping his face hidden on you.

When his older brother, prince Ubbe, arrived, your master was sleeping with his body nestled on yours, still sitting on that chair, with your hands keeping his sleepiness with small caresses to his hair.

"She was really betraying him, wasn't she?" prince Ubbe asked and you nodded, hearing his sigh. "I'll take him to his room."

Ubbe took Hvitserk's hand around his shoulders and your master woke up dizzy, drunk, mumbling things you couldn't understand. Despite your body was sore from the bad position, you got up, walking with them, preparing the bed when prince Ubbe arrived at the room, helping him to take off Hvitserk's shoes and buckles so he could sleep comfortably. You looked around searching for more wood to feed the fire in his room and make it warmer and covered your master with a heavier fur for the night would be too cold, you could feel it.

Prince Ubbe observed as you walked around, providing everything his brother could need during the night from ensuring his amphora of water was full for him to drink if necessary to provide clean water for his basin - so he could wash in the morning.

When everything was done, you sighed, observing as Prince Hvitserk was heavy sleeping, snoring and relaxed in his bed. But Prince Ubbe had his arms crossed, looking at you.

"Would you mind telling me who are you, woman?" he asked.

Curiosity pouring abundant in those two blue orbs he had so clear in his face.

"I'm Y/N, master Hvitserk's servant, and former slave," you answered, readily, causing Ubbe to curve his lips.

"I see you're a good one. It seems you know my brother like the palm of your hand..." he commented.

"I used to serve the couple's room, my lord. I was a gift from him to his ex-wife. He brought me from foreign lands he went for a raid, but my master never treated me bad nor was harsh to me. So, I served him with loyalty and it pains me to see him like this. The mistress didn't deserve his heart and I'll pray the gods he can find someone who does."

Ubbe's smile became a little bit bigger in a way you didn't understand. But he seemed to be happy to see you were there.

"It seems they heard your prayers, sweet Y/N. There is a side room where you can sleep comfortably if you want to stay near him. I'll ask the slaves to prepare it for you. Now take some food and some rest. Your master will wake up with a good hangover tomorrow."

"And if my lord allows me, I would like to leave some tea and herb water prepared at the kitchen for his pains tomorrow," you said, causing Ubbe's face to twist in a gentle expression.

"Do as you need. It is his home now, so you're very welcomed to serve your master the best you know," he said and you bent in a respectful reverence before leaving.

Ubbe stood at the entrance of the room, ordering some slaves of the hall to bring everything you needed to have a comfortable and warm night in the servant side-room of his brother's room.

But something was telling his heart that soon that room would be empty once again...

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #hvitserk #hviserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk white shirt #hvitserk’s heathen feast #sister wives #shot

[gardenflowerswriting]

Hvitserk in College

A/N Short and I wrote it a while ago meaning to make it longer but never did. I’m not tagging anyone, because I can’t be bothered to try and look at the list. <3 enjoy gif: dangerousvikings

You tapped your pen rapidly against the white lined paper. Your eyes scanning over the large book in front of you, in short, Women Hero's of the Revolution, the thrilling tales of 20 different women who risked their own lives for the sake of their country. It was an amazing book, but you couldn't deny feeling a hint of jealousy to see the sacrifices women made as you sit in your university library, with a 'full-ride' from your parents, if you got all A's. The one problem with getting all A's was the distraction that seemed to always sit at your feet. Your loving, amazing, so sweet and kind boyfriend, Hvitserk.

He was always with you though, and it seemed the library was the only place you could be free of him, so your thought.

As you neared the end of the story about Molly Pitcher, you jumped when a voice spoke into your left ear, "whatcha doing?"

Your eyes widened as you turned to see who stood behind your, "oh god!" Your eyes rested on the short hair of Hvitserk, "it's you!"

He smiled, sitting in the empty seat across from you, "of course it's me, I thought we were getting dinner?"

You frowned, "what time is it?"

He looked down at the sleek black watch, "6:00 o'clock."

Your hands moved through your hair, and you let out a grumbling sound, "I'm sorry babe, I forgot. It's just- this dumb project I have to do."

He frowned, sliding the book away from you to read the front, "women in the American Revolution? what class is this for?"

You glared up at him, sliding the book back toward you, "history, but because I want an American history major, Professor Rollo wants us to center it around our majors, rather any piece in history."

"When's it due?"

You bit your cheek, "tomorrow?" Procrastination was another distraction that stood by your feet.

He frowned, "so you're gonna sit in this boring library all night?" You didn't answer, "Y/N come on, my uncles the professor," his hand went to your knee under the table, "I'm sure I could get you another day."

You crossed your legs, making his hand fall absent, "Hvitserk I'm not gonna cheat."

"It's not cheating! It's using your resources," he scooted to the seat next to you, rather across from you.

You glared at him, crossing your arms, "yeah, the resource of cheating."

He smiled, his hand reaching for your thigh again. Though your skin was covered with your leggings, you could feel the warmth his hands carried, "Come on," he pouted, "I could help."

You rolled your eyes when you felt his hand creep further down to the inner part of your thigh. You sighed, "let's go"

He smiled, knowing he won you over, “well come in Princess.”

#marco ilsø #viking imagine #vikings #hvityy #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #vikjngs hviserk

[piedicons]

like/reblog if you save credits to @alexhosgh on twitter

#marco ilsoe header #marco ilso #marco ilso header #vikings #vikings header #vikings headers #hvitserk #hviserk header #marco ilsø

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 04 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (03)

Next part (05) ->

{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Fit For a Princess

You're listening to the chattering between Aslaug and Helga, looking at pieces of jewelry at the market place. You say something every now and then, but you can't shake away Ivar's stare. On the last days, two weeks or so, he's right there, sitting across from you on every meal, eyes burning through you. Hvitserk said he's studying you, still expecting you to snap, to decide you had enough of all this and want to go back home. To Wessex, where your older brother now rules. And Ragnar already said he'd take you back if you wanted, so there's that.

But leaving Kattegat hasn't even crossed your mind, not before and not now. How could you trade all you have here, and slide back into the invisible chains you had on? It wouldn't be just stupid, it would be the death of you. You're finally understanding who you are, the things you like, the kind of people you like. In England, you had to play a specific role, because everything was political. Here, you're just who you are. And you do what you want to do. This is true freedom.

“I really like this one,” Helga says, as your eyes wander through the many rings, earrings, and necklaces. “I'd like those two as well.” She continues as you pace around, further away from both women, turning the corner and then walking to another store. The pieces they have here are all made of metal, delicately bent into beautiful shapes. You caress a bracelet with the tip of your fingers, wondering if it'd look good on you.

“Don't waste your time with these cheap things.” The voice, that you now recognize immediately, makes you turn around. Ivar comes from among the people, only stopping when he's standing next to you.

But despite his attention being on the jewelry, your eyes are on him. “You're tall.” It comes out suddenly, because he never stood beside you like this, so you couldn't have noticed.

“Well, you're tiny.” Ivar glances at you, playing with one of the rings. “Anyway, you shouldn't be looking at these things. They won't suit you very well.”

Giving the old man an apologetic look, you randomly pick a bracelet. You don't get why Ivar is being rude, but, judging by what Hvitserk had told you, his brother isn't one to hold back. He says what he thinks, it doesn't matter how mean it may sound to others. You're still trying to figure out if this level of brutal honesty is good or bad. “I really like this one.” Searching on the small bag attached to your dress, you take four coins, way more than what the bracelet is worth, handing it over to the man and putting the bracelet on. The silver color is beautiful, and the drawings carved on it remind you of the pattern you saw on one of the boats that brought you here.

Ivar rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, sighing. “You are such a kind princess.” Dropping the ring, he starts walking side by side with you when you set in motion through the market. You weren't expecting that.

“King Ecbert was king of Wessex. This isn't Wessex.”

“(Y/N)! Wait for us.” Aslaug calls and you stop, giving her a look and a nod before turning to face Ivar, who towers over you.

“Therefore, I'm not a princess anymore.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give him a small smile.

“That's a shame, isn't it?” He lowers his voice, leaning closer.

“Not really.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give a little step back, putting a strand of hair behind your ears before giving him a little wave, walking back to where both women are.

After they're done shopping, as you walk back home, the clouds push themselves apart just enough for the sunlight to appear. That makes you stop, taking in the warmth on your skin, but it soon disappears.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Hvitserk calls, coming from the beach with his father, Ubbe and Bjorn, who's walking behind them. “We're going to meet some traders. Wanna come?”

“Why not?” You mumble, elbowing Hvitserk when he's close enough.

“Go put on some pants then. We're riding there.”

“Oh.” It's so absurd it's stupid, how you can't seem to do the simple things people know by heart here. “I'm not very good at riding.” Whispering, you tell him, not wanting anyone else to listen.

“I'll help you out.” He nods, tilting his head to where Bjorn is. “Without cracking your head open in the process.”

Smiling you nod before heading inside to change out of the dress. You're just about to head out when Aslaug tells you to grab a cloak in case it rains later, so you have to make another trip to your room. But soon enough you meet Hvitserk and the others again, reading the horses.

“Which one is mine?”

“Over here.” Hviserk guides to a beautiful white horse. “Give me your leg.” He says, and for a moment you furrow your eyebrows, but soon enough you understand what he means. Raising your leg, Hvitserk grabs your calf and you push yourself up, successfully mounting on the horse with his help. It feels funny to be this tall. You have ridden before, but most of the time you used a carriage. There was no need for a princess to ride on the back of a horse at Wessex. It's wild though, and you've grown to love wild things. “Keep your feet like this on the stirrups at all times. Don't put of your feet all the way in or it might get stuck if you fall. If you touch her with your ankles, she'll move forward. Pull the halters and she'll stop. The same thing goes to pull her left or right, but since we'll ride together she'll just follow the other horses.”

“Got it.”

“Your ass might hurt at the end of the day, so be prepared.” He warns before jumping to the back of his horse. “If it'll help you feel more steady, you can hold on the saddle, but trust me, you'll get the hang of it once you lose the fear of falling.”

“Have you ever fallen from a horse before?” As you speak, the small group starts moving, and your mare does the same, keeping their pace, slow at first until everyone starts galloping, and all air leaves your lungs. You hold tightly to the saddle, scared at first, but you remember what Hvitserk just told you. If you let the fear of falling win, you'll never learn to ride properly, and you'll never enjoy it. Slowly, you let go of the saddle, holding only on the halters, making sure it's loose so she'll feel free to run.

And the sensation is amazing. The wind makes your hair whip your face over and over, and you lightly shake your head to get rid of it. Glancing at Hvitserk, you mirror his position, a smile creeping over your lips. The landscape, green, blue, and gray, passes by in a blur, and you try to take it all in. It's beautiful, breathtaking. Almost literally, because when you finally stop, you're struggling to catch your breath.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” You answer, and Hvitserk nods before moving to stand next to his father and brother. You see a small troop approaching, riding up the hill.

“You're quite good at this,” Bjorn says, guiding his horse away from his siblings and near you. “A few more lessons you'll be riding like a true Viking.”

“I really like it. Its... Thrilling.” You're finally calming down, and your thighs ache a little bit.

“Wanna see the traders coming?” Turning his horse around, he gestures at a cliff, not too many miles away. “We could go up there, it'll give us a nice view.”

“Isn't it a little high?”

“The horses are used to it. C'mon.” Without waiting for your answer, he starts galloping away.

Glancing at Hvitserk, you hold the halter tightly to keep the mare from moving. “You think I should?”

“Sure, it has a nice view. But if you feel like the trail there is too much you come back here, alright? The horses are used to it but you're not.”

“Alright.” Touching the mare with your ankles, you loose the halter and she immediately moves, following Bjorn's horse. It doesn't take much until you're deep inside the woods, the horses now trotting. Bjorn keeps silent, giving you a few glances since you're slightly behind him.

“That way.” He says, and you just let your ride follow his. The smooth ground soon starts changing, with more rocks, and becomes unravel. When you see a steep slope, with apparently nothing to hold on to, you pull the halters, making the mare stop.

“I think it's too craggy.” You speak up, getting Bjorn's attention. “I don't want to fall on my first try.”

“She's used to this kind of inclination. You'll be fine.”

Considering it and also what Hvitserk said, you decide to leave the cliff viewing for another day, when you feel more secure on the horse. “I think I'll pass, Bjorn. Maybe another cliff where I can go on foot.”

“Don't be a pussy. It's not that craggy.” Then, he kicks his horse hard and it sets in motion. It doesn't surprise you, but when the mare moves as well, following him, you're startled, and in the sudden change, you let the halter fall.

Holding on the sell, you can only watch as Bjorn's horse easily climbs the slope, at a fast pace, and yours do the same. But when it suddenly turns left, around a huge rock, you lose your balance, and since there's nothing to hold on to, both your feet escape the stirrups, and you're pulled to the ground hard. Losing your breath, a sting on your ankle makes you yelp as you roll down the slope, only stopping once the ground is flat again. Rolling on your back, you take deep breaths, trying not to move the left leg since the pain is spreading through your foot and calf. “Damn it!” You exclaim, removing the hair from your face.

“(Y/N)!” It takes only a few seconds until you see Bjorn kneeling by your side. “Are you alright?”

“I just fell from a horse and rolled down a hill!” You speak fast, the pain on your back making itself aware. “Of course I'm not fine!”

“Let me take you–” He says as he starts to pull you up.

“No.” You cut him off, slapping his hands away. Bjorn has done enough for today. If he wasn't trying to be a freaking show-off, this wouldn't have happened. “Go get–”

“(Y/N)?” You hear his voice and breathes out relief. “I heard a yell.”

“Over here. Lying on the ground.” Annoyed, you cover your eyes with both hands. “Can you please see if my ankle is broken?”

“What happened?” He asks in a low voice, and you uncover your eyes to see him jumping to the ground, kneeling next to your stretched out leg.

“Bjorn made his horse bolt up the slope and mine followed.” You explain, giving him a hard glance, groaning when Hvitserk lifts your leg to remove your boot. “Easy there!”

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “But calm down, it's not broken, just sprained.”

“Shit.” Taking a deep breath, you sit up taking off the other boot as well and throwing it at Bjorn. “You can't keep yourself from getting me hurt, can you?”

“Me? Everything you had to do was hold on. The horse–”

“I'm not a Viking!” Bursting out, you look up at him. “I'm not some shieldmaiden, I'm still trying to fit in here and learn things. You can't expect me to follow your pace.”

“I just–”

“Bjorn, you should get back. Help father with the traders, I'll take her back to Kattegat.” Hvitserk interrupts him, and Bjorn leaves after a grunt, saying something you couldn't understand.

“And he thinks he has the right to be pissed!” Lying back down, you groan. “I think this is a sign to stay away from him. Every time he's in the situation, I get hurt.”

“Alright, c'mon.” Hvitserk pulls your arm until you're seated again. “You need to put some ice on this ankle, let's go.” Hvitserk takes your mare first, tying her up with his horse before mounting and pulling you up to ride with him.

Despite the slow pace he keeps, your back still hurts. Resting your head on his back, you sigh. “Why are you so quiet?” You ask after a while.

“I'm thinking about the right words to tell this to mother. She won't be happy.” He answers, a hand resting on his thigh as the other holds the halter. “She's not very fond of Bjorn already.”

“It was partially my fault too, I think. I let the halter slip and had nothing to hold on to.”

“You're know Bjorn likes you, right?” Hvitserk suddenly says, and you pinch your eyebrows together. This thought hasn't crossed your mind. “That's probably why he did that. That's how he... Gets a woman's attention.”

“Would you do the kindness of telling him it's not working?” Muttering, you rest both your arms on his back folding them as if his shoulders were a table. “Actually, I've been meaning to tell you... I met Ivar at the market place today.”

“...And?” He asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Nothing, just... It was nothing, really.” It's hard to understand exactly what you want to tell Hvitserk. You just can't seem to put your feelings or thoughts together. “I was looking at these things and he said they wouldn't suit me.” Stretching out your arm, you show him the bracelet. “I bought this there.”

“That's nice. But cheap.” Rolling your eyes, you remember Ivar said pretty much the same thing.

“He also said I'm kind. But that was probably in a mocking tone, so...” You get into Kattegat, and Hvitserk greets some people. “I don't know.”

“I believe it's safe to assume Ivar doesn't hate you.” Hvitserk slows down the horse when a group of kids run by. “If he did, he wouldn't put himself on your way like that... Or look at you the way he does.”

“And how does he look at me?” The words come out slowly because you're not sure if you want to know.

“The only thing I can say for sure is that he never looked at a woman like that.” You finally get to Ragnar's house, and Hvitserk asks a man to help you down. Once you're safe on the ground, he jumps off, telling the man to take the horses. “And I mean it in a good way.”

He puts a hand around your waist, helping as you jump on the right foot until the table in the main hall. “Do you think he–”

“What happened this time?” Aslaug asks, her voice already giving out that she's not happy.

“Twisted ankle. She fell from the horse.”

“Take her to her room, Hvitserk.” The Queen mutters, saying something to the girls who were following her. “And carry her this time if that isn't too much to ask.”

“Alright.” He replies, picking you up with a hand on the small of your back and another under your legs, quickly finding the way to your chambers.

Giggling, you give him a look “I love when your mother–”

“Careful with the teasing this time. I might just drop you to the floor and I don't care if your a princess who fell off a horse.” The fake angry tone makes you laugh again.

“My bad, Prince Hvitserk.” You snap back, rolling your eyes.

Aslaug has her maids help you bathe first, cleaning the dirt that is attached to your face and hair before lying you on the bed again and applying a piece of fabric with cold water on your ankle, keeping it elevated with some pillows. She isn't happy to know the whole story, despite you assuring her it's alright now. You could've died, she said, breaking your neck. But it's useless to worry about what could've happened. The best thing to do now is to focus on the ankle, which she said will be better in a few days, and let the whole incident go.

Later that night, you give little jumps to the main hall to eat something. It's just Ubbe and Bjorn, seated on a table at the corner. Nodding at them, not wanting to chat with Bjorn at the moment, you sit at the edge of the table in the middle, your back turned at both men, taking the jar and pouring yourself something to drink.

“How's your ankle?” Ubbe asks, and you look over your shoulder.

“It's fine. I'll be able to walk normally in a few days. But my back still hurts.” Completely ignoring Bjorn's existence, you turn away from them again.

Drumming your fingers on the table, you wait for the Queen's maids to bring your meal. When you feel someone moving behind your back, you assume it's them, and place your cup further away to open some space. But instead of the bowl with rabbit stew, a necklace is put down before you. And it's absolutely beautiful, with three blue stones surrounded by a golden metal, delicately molded around it. It's different from anything you've ever seen in Wessex. Taking it in your hands, you see Ivar dropping to the seat next to you, and you turn to look at him.

“What is it?” You ask, unable to hide the smile that comes to your lips.

“A necklace.” He simply says, and you roll your eyes at his tone. What a way to ruin the mood.

“Yeah, I noticed.” The smile slowly drops as your eyes go back to the piece, fingertips caressing one of the stones.

“This was made for a princess. Not those cheap things.” He gestures at your bracelet, and you giggle.

“Well, this is absolutely beautiful.” Glancing at him, you find he was already staring. “Is it for me?” You inquire in a lower voice, not wanting to make any assumptions that might embarrass you.

Ivar nods, lightly pushing your shoulder. “Turn around. Let me put it on.”

Doing as he says, you turn your back at him. Ivar takes the necklace and places it around your neck, and you hold your hair up so he can close it on the back. Once he's done, you let the hair fall before turning to face him, folding your left leg and carefully laying the wounded ankle on the bench between you and Ivar. “How does it look?”

You wait for an answer, but it doesn't come. Ivar's eyes were fixed on the necklace, but slowly, they come to meet yours. Tilting your head to the side a little, you feel heat spreading through your cheeks.

Shaking your head lightly and looking down, you take a deep breath. “Have you heard that I fell from a horse this afternoon?” You're glad you got your brain to function, changing the subject. “Twisted my ankle.”

Ivar's stare falls to your bare feet on the bench, the skirt of your dress pulled up to your knee. “Mother told me it was someone else's doing.” As he speaks, Ivar gives an angry stare at where his two brothers are, and it's obvious who he's looking at. “But I think you'll survive.” You feel his fingers caressing your skin, from your knee and down through your calf, so softly you wonder if he's really touching you.

“I will.” You assure him, biting back a smile.

“Ivar,” Ragnar calls, and it does take a while until you both look at where he's standing, near the thrones. “Your mother wants to speak with you.”

“What now?” He asks, annoyed.

“I don't know. Go ask her.” And he disappears.

“Guess I'll have to go.” He glances at you, grabbing the clutch.

But before he can push himself up, you grab his arm. Perhaps you shouldn't do it. Perhaps this whole thing is just some kind of joke he's pulling on you, but still, the necklace is beautiful and he was... Kind. So you lean closer to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for the gift. It's very beautiful.”

Ivar is frozen, even after you let go of his arm. He stands there, blue eyes locked on yours. Slowly, painfully slow, a smile comes to his lips. And it feels different. True, genuine. “You're welcome, princess.” He whispers before pushing himself up to his feet and walking away.

You're still a little dazed when the rabbit stew comes, and you can do nothing but play with the spoon. But heavy footsteps get your attention, and when you look at your side, you catch a glimpse of a very angry Bjorn disappearing inside.

He saw everything. And it takes you by surprise to notice that, the moment you laid eyes on Ivar, you immediately forgot Bjorn and Ubbe were here. Everything just... Faded away, and there was nothing else, just you and him. And this is not the first time it happens.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07

#ivar imagine #imagine ivar #ivar x you #ivar x reader #ivar x y/n #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless x reader #imagine ivar the boneless #viking imagine #imagine vikings #ivar vikings x reader #vikings x reader

[ofmanderley]

anyways - halfdan/bjorn + aethelred/hviserk going on double dates

is this a hint that you might want to see some writing on the subject ?? because i have time. 

#skyleree1 #saved #/ is this a hint hint wink wink situation ?

[vikingsagine]

My Loyalty Is Yours (Ivar x Reader)

Hey, this one. I like it but its kinda long. Don’t know how long it is. but yerp. Love my cripple God Ivar the Boneless, kind of miss his ruthless behavior. Miss that psycho tang he had in season 5. Can’t wait for the finale. (Admire my beautiful crazy baby)

Summary : Reader is interrogated by Bjorn to why you were imprisoned instead of fighting for Ivar, the man you dedicated your life to. You are his right hand, his most trusted and most loyal.

Warning: Violence. Mentions of rape. Pretty sad. Death.

“Why are you still here?” Gruff and tough. You were on your knees, hands tied behind your back, body tattered and bruised from torture. Bjorn sat with pride on the dark throne, carved from maple oak wood, where not too long ago you were standing next to. Not sitting, not below but standing beside. Now, a bloody mess grovelling at the hands of another ruler. “Why were you imprisoned and not fighting for my brother?” He leaned forward, light silver-ish eyes boring into yours with such dominant demeanour, it reminded you of a hunter looking down on its prey.

“It’s good to see you too, Bjorn Ironside.” Your voice was dry from the long days of imprisonment. The lack of food and water and rest. Your lips curved upwards smugly and spat the blood that kissed your teeth. Pushing yourself into a comfortable position, you spread your legs forward and slumped against the man standing behind you. A grunt leaving your lips. “I’m surprised to see you but, somewhat...happy.”

“Enough.” You knew Bjorn Ironside, you knew his brothers, Ubba, Hviserk, Singurd and especially Ivar. After the disappearance of Ragnar Lothbrook, when all the boys were teenagers and older, you made an appearance. In fact, it was exactly in the same predicament you’re in now. On your knees, bleeding and at the mercy of the ruler of Kattegat. “Answer me woman or I swear by the Gods that I will not hesitate to kill you right here, right now.” Bjorn was impatient, his fists clenched and teeth seethed waiting for your response. Your excuse.

“It’s simple, I couldn’t do Ivar’s bidding anymore.” When you arrived in Kattegat many years ago, you had a purpose. A clear and meaningful reason for your living. It was to serve and protect Ivar from everything and anything. All your life before Kattegat and the sons of Ragnar, it was about survival and fulfilling the wishes of the Gods. The visions or dreams of a sort that haunted you every night, led you to Kattegat. “I betrayed him.” The words felt venomous like burning water poured down your throat. You could taste the metallic flavour of your own blood.

“Tch and how do you suppose I should believe what you say?” Bjorn scoffed, intrigued by your honest response. It was a private meeting, with only you, the King of Kattegat, Ubba and his wife and Lagertha. They all stared and listened intently. 

“Bjorn’s right, (Y/N). We all know of your dedication towards my little brother. What reason is there for you to betray him even though, I recall, your purpose was to serve and protect him.” Ubba finally spoke, his striking blue orbs filled with conflict of pain but also righteousness. It wasn’t easy for him to see the girl he once thought as a little sister and a good friend, covered in different wounds that were dripping with blood and crusting from dirt and rotting flesh. You missed Ubba. His gentle and kind heart. You missed having his friendship, the days of endless drinking and dancing and fighting. “Does your loyalty change?”

“Ubba. My sweet and gentle Ubba.” The memory still seemed fresh yet so far away. The days where you’d share stories and laugh over a cup of ale as he tried to flirt with other women and as you watched longingly at Ivar. They were all turned to ash when your swords met during the fight over Kattegat, working alongside Ivar and King Harald and Hvitserk. “I don’t wish you to believe me. That is your own choice and decision, a right I do not own.” Ubba frowned at your answer, not at all proving a reason to keep you alive. “However, I am still loyal to Ivar. I always will be.” Ubba’s jaw clenched, expecting a different response and the hope behind his warm ocean orbs, crushed. 

“I don’t understand. You say you betray Ivar but yet, still loyal to him. That does not make sense.” Torvi spoke up from beside her husband, beautiful blonde hair glowing like pure ember that her murderous and calloused hands betrayed. You knew she was a strong woman and you smiled, happy that Ubba found a great wife and shieldmaiden. 

“I did not betray Ivar the way you think I did.” You remember the exchange, vividly. The night you wanted out. The night you refused Ivar’s wishes. The night he broke your heart. Letting out a long sigh, you closed your eyes and reminisced in the painful memory. All of it came back to you like an arrow diving into your heart. The tears, the emotions, the words, the blood, the action and the choice. “Two moons before the attack, Queen Freydis gave birth to the supposed divine son of God Ivar.” Your voice mocked the word God as if talking to the self-proclaimed man himself. Imagining the scowl crossing his face and then the bitter insult he’d snark back. “The boy, you see, was...different. He wasn’t what Ivar expected. He saw him as himself, crippled and ruined. And so, he ordered me to kill him. To kill his own child.” Your eyes locked with Bjorn’s filled with burning tears and suppressed emotions. “And I did. I left him out in the cold, leaving the crying babe to defend for itself. Left it for a pack of foxes that ended up eating him, but even still, the baby was dead beforehand because it was too cold.” Your voice started to shake, recalling the cries, the innocent shrieks of a pleading and freezing child in the middle of the forest on a sharp winter night. 

“No, no, you didn’t. Y-you couldn’t have. Ivar forced you to, the (Y/N) I knew wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t of-.” Ubba intervened, distraught by the news and took a few steps closer to your hunched figure. His eyes pleading for you to be joking as sick as it was, he hoped you were lying, kidding. But you weren’t.

“You’re wrong.” You snapped, aimed your stern glare towards your best friend. “I did Ubba. It may have been Ivar’s wish, but I could have rejected, I could have chosen otherwise. The girl you were once friends with, is long gone.” It was true, all that time you spent with Ivar had changed you. Slowly but surely twisting that once righteous and somewhat innocent soul into nothing but a slave to a monster. A heartless and dutiful dog. You took another deep breath, swallowing the emotions clogged in your throat and returned your famous stoic and expressionless mask. “But after that night, I could no longer do it anymore. I could no longer be that person and I told him, I was done. I was done with killing innocents and slaughtering the people I grew up with. But oh no, it was not a good enough reason. Ivar screamed and yelled and we were like that for a while.”

“Ivar, I’m done.” You uttered barely above a whisper, standing in front of your supposed God with the cold of the night's air still nipping at your cheeks and fingertips. The merciless man froze in his seat, motioning for his men to quiet and turned away from his wife who was clueless by your doings. 

“What did you say?” His tone was gentle and soft but still filled with cruelty and opposing anger. The fire behind his icy blue eyes burned like wildfire. The smile, however fake it may be, was dangerous and deadly. Daring you to speak again. His men soon noticed his change of behaviour and lowered their heads, their flappering mouths came to a pause but their ears burned with curiosity.

“You heard me, I’m done. I cannot do this anymore.” 

“Please, leave us.” Ivar spoke calmly, waiting for his men and wife to leave the room. To leave you two alone to discuss the current matter. It was normal. Mundane for you two to argue about things, his battle tactics, his childish behaviour or your reckless demeanour and your hostile behaviour towards everyone. Soon enough, it was just you and him. 

“I will be leaving Kattegat at first light tomorrow morning. I wanted to tell you this before going and to inform you that Hvitserk is now the leader of your armies before the attack from Bjorn and King Harald.” You stood, waiting for a reply from Ivar. You did not expect him to huff, lean back into his chair and continue eating his meal.

“You can’t.” He hummed, a smile spreading across his lips.

“And why can’t I?” His immature behaviour pushed your buttons. 

“Because I rule over you and you are mine. Bound to me by the fates of the Gods, you say so yourself.” Ivar spoke smugly, happy with himself and thought his reasoning to be perfect and completely reasonable. “Besides, why would you leave? You have everything that you need and could ever want. You have done nothing wrong.” You were left awestruck for a split second. Staring at Ivar like he’d grown two heads. 

“Nothing wrong?” Your voice picked up in disbelief, your voice beginning to falter as your heart pounded and your mind sped up. Flashes of obeying his orders coming to mind. All the deaths, all the screams, all the killing on your hands. “Nothing wrong!? Ivar, I just finished killing your son! Your baby! And you think that is everything I want and need?!” You were glad everyone had left and that the walls were made with solid timber and the clash of thunder and rain roared outside. Ivar snapped his head back, not liking the way you raised your tone at him as if you were superior. 

“Do not talk to me as if I am lesser than you.” Ivar growled and grabbed his crutch to stand up and limped towards your figure draped in leather and cloth. His eyes widened and glared down at you. 

“I am not speaking to you as if you are lesser than me, I am yelling at you because I am angry.” You could feel thick tears burn your placid brown orbs, ready to spill and your throat ready to crack. “I am angry and tired of killing people. That is all I do and see Ivar. Is death. Is blood. All their bodies. People I know, people that have once called me friends, I killed in cold blood. All because of...all because…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, Ivar’s heated gaze trapped on you and breathing in every word you screamed wholeheartedly. 

“All because of what, hmm? All because of what? Go on, finish the sentence. All because of me, right?” His voice seethed, his tone dark and heavy as he leaned in closer to your face so you could hear and feel his wrath through his breathing. “Yes, blame me. Blame me like I forced you to do that. I gave you a choice. Everytime, I told you, you didn’t have to do it. But yet, you accepted. So, this...this isn’t just my fault. This is your doing too. You had a choice to make, to walk with clean hands or to kill for me?” Both Ivar’s hands came around your shoulders, squeezing tight and his nails dug into your clothes. “You think I wanted you to kill my son, huh?! You think I wanted that? No, I did not! But I wasn’t going to have him grow up just like I did. A cripple. A laughingstock for everyone. A reason to pity. A harder life to live.” You stared up at him with shocked facials, staring at the pure and passionate emotions he was displaying. 

“And that gives you the right? That’s supposed to make me feel better. To make me feel like I’m no longer a monster.” You shoved his hands off of you and stomped your feet on the ground. “Everything I have done, I have done for you. I have protected you, killed hundreds for you, lied for you, been raped for you, been defiled and humiliated...for you.” 

“Then why do you stay? I know the Gods do not wish this upon you. So please, do not give me your poor excuse of it being the Gods doing, that I am your fate, your duty, your responsibility. Because I know, there is more to it.” His fists came to your collar and clenched. You could feel your emotions overtake your usual calm and strategic mind, overthrowing all sense out the window and before you know it, you punched him across the face. Striking him down onto the ground with a thud, he growled. 

“Because I love you. I love you so much that it hurts.” Tears were now violently falling from your cheeks as you slumped on the floor, glaring at Ivar - the cripple who stole your heart, silently, slowly but completely. He didn’t say a word, his jaw didn’t shut and his eyes didn’t waver. “All my life, I never knew what family was. I didn’t know what it was like to love. And then I find you and of course, I thought these emotions were the feelings the Gods had put on me, what it was like to actually find their duty and responsibility. But then, I fell in love with you. It was no longer the Gods who kept me by your side, it was my heart.”

The fight still pained you to this day. It was one of your greatest regrets but one of your most needed encounters in your life. You had been sitting in silence for a while now, just staring out to nothing until Bjorn Ironside finally spoke. His patience ran thin and wanted answers. There were visible tears falling from your eyes, stinging your prior wounds across your cheeks but not enough for you to care. 

“Right.” You coughed, clearing your throat in hopes of ridding the obvious hurtful emotions that were on show for everyone to see. “I told him that I...that I loved him and for a long time he didn’t say anything and I left. However, just as I predicted, he sent his men to kill me and proclaimed that I was a murderer, a traitor and a spy working for your armies.” You let out a dry laugh, the betrayal and the disappointment hurting you. It was silly to think that you would expect Ivar to let you leave. It was naive to think that he’d feel the same, that he loved you enough to let you go.  It was stupid enough for you to hope, that the great Ivar the Boneless, would put his paranoia for power and victory to actually let you escape. He was too caught up in the idea that you’d betray him. And in his mind, you wanting to leave was already a betrayal. So, therefore, you did betray him. “And now, here I am, alive to live another day.” 

#vikings #ivar imagine #ivar x you #vikings bjorn #ubbe #vikings imagine #oneshot

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Ubbe x reader Protecting you

Pairing: Ubbe x reader

Summary: Reader is a slave who has a hard time behaving. An incident at dinner has her scared and running away from Ivar. Ubbe decides to help her.

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, abuse, death, freezing, mild cursing.

**********************************************

Hey guys! I couldn't sleep so I wrote this instead lol, hope you like it😚

"You should watch what you say y/n, especially in front of Ivar, he can be very cruel" Calise warned as you rolled your eyes for the millionth time.

"How many times do I have to say it Calise?! Just because some foreign bastards stole me from my home and made me a slave doesn't mean I can just accept it. I'm a human being, not property. If one of those bastard brothers tries to hurt me they will be the ones who are sorry" you huffed setting down a large bucket of dish water.

Calise tsked nodding her head, "You won't last long with that attitude... believe me you weren't the first slave to think she wouldn't bend, but these men can be savages and they will not hesitate to beat you into submission.." she sighed when you didnt reply and continued washing silently.

In your mind you were seething. You understood that you couldn't just go around picking fights but you weren't going to be treated like dirt either. Ugh why were the gods punishing you like this?

You decided to try your best at keeping a low profile until a chance of escaping arose. After all if no one noticed you it wouldn't be that difficult to sneak away one night.

Alright brain, are you listening? No more smart mouthed comments. No more under the breath insults. And for the love of gods, no more dirty glares! Let's try to stay alive long enough to escape shall we?

**********************************************

That night you stood behind the chairs of the royal family as they ate and conversed happily. A rare occasion honestly, it was not often that all the brothers got along this well.

Ubbe was more sensible and to be honest you did not mind him much. Hviserk was for the most part ok, his comments about women sometimes made you clench your teeth. Sigurd wasnt that interesting to be honest, and then there was the devilish one known as Ivar, that one you had to be wary of, you had seen him almost choke to death a servant for spilling soup over him.

Your eyes roamed around the hall. Gods standing around was so boring... the first thing you were gonna do when you escaped was relax in a hot bath and feast on the fattiest foods. None of that leftover meat slop you slaves were fed.

Sometimes when you guys were cleaning up you would sneak some food in your mouth quickly. Calise scolded you everytime but hey, the gods taught not to be wasteful. In your eyes you were doing a good thing.

"Are you deaf slave?" A sudden sharp voice cut into your thoughts.

Shit...

"Sorry, how may I serve you prince Ivar.." you quickly stepped forward.

"My cup is empty" he motioned holding it up mockingly.

This asshole is lucky I don't have my knife anymore...

You quickly filled his cup with ale, a simple task really. No one could've imagined what would happen next.

When you felt a wandering hand over your ass you acted on instinct. No you didnt even stop to think that slapping the craziest man in kattegat was a bad idea.

You stood there eyes wider than saucers. Frozen like a deer as you watched Ivars stunned face turn from the side slowly, a red welt already appearing on his pale skin. Fuck.

You took one giant step back suddenly afraid that he would stab you with a dinner knife right then and there.

"M-my prince, I'm so sorry I did-" you were abruptly cut off when he shot out of his chair, a wild look of murder in his eyes.

Fuck you were done for. Great job you managed to keep yourself in check for like what 7 minutes?!

"Ivar stop!" Aslaug tried to calm him down but he was already out of his chair and limping towards you dangerously. Afraid of him and what he could do you whipped around and darted past a shocked Calise out into the brisk winters air.

You could hear shouting behind you but you were too frightened to stop. Although you probably made it ten times worse by running away. Should you have just stayed and taken the beating?

Surely the brothers or the queen would've intervened before things got too out of hand. You shook your head. Well none of that mattered now, you had to hide before he found you. Gods for a cripple, he sure was fast.

You cursed as another ruthless wind made you shiver. Only a thin dress protected you from the harsh weather. Great instead of being beaten to death you were gonna freeze to death.

Maybe it was better that way.. even if you left kattegat, it's not like you had anywhere else to go. And being captured by bandits on the road didnt seem appealing either. For all your past bravery you were feeling pretty terrified right now.

You hid behind a house taking a deep breath. Ok so you couldn't ask anyone for help for surely they would turn you in. After all no one would risk protecting you for Ivars wrath.

A barn near the house caught your eye, and you immediately snuck through the crack in the door and pulled it shut.

There were some piles of hay, a table for crafting tools of some sort, and above it all was a semi sealed attic.

Seeing no ladder you quickly piled some hay until it was tall enough to climb on. You also pulled as much as you could up with you to cover yourself.

By this point your hands were starting to burn. But you feared going back more than freezing. So you scooched back as far as you could, almost hidden completely and pulled the hay onto your shaking body. It wasn't the furs you slept with but it would have to do.

Wrapping your arms tight you prayed to the gods that you would somehow survive this or at least die a quick death.

At some point the cold turned into burning and then you felt nothing. You couldn't even feel your eyelids as they drooped shut.

**********************************************

"Ivar calm down, she's new she doesn't know how to be a proper slave yet" Ubbe stood blocking the door. The only thing standing between him and your certain death.

"I agree, she doesn't know, so she must be taught a lesson" Ivar growled and tried to push past his brother once more.

Aslaug gently placed a hand on his back, "Ivar please, she is just a slave, she is not worth it"

Ubbe could tell he was starting to calm down, especially when his mother spoke he always listened.

"Ivar you're right, she does need to learn but please, let me go and deal with her" Ubbe pleaded.

Ivar glared at his brother a few moments before sighing and shoving his arm off.

"Fine, just promise me you wont be too easy on her brother" he grumbled making his way back to the chair.

Ubbe sighed in relief and made his way outside. He started to worry because it was heavily snowing and from what he saw you were only dressed in a thin dress.

He actually had no intention of "dealing with you" as Ivar had demanded. In all honesty he thought you reacted as any insulted girl would. It just so happened because you were a slave it wasnt permitted.

Later on after he found you he would probably have a good laugh about this with his brothers. After all it wasnt everyday someone stood up to Ivar the boneless.

**********************************************

Ubbe had been searching far into the night now, no one he asked had any clue where the girl was and he was starting to lose hope.

Part of him wanted to give up and warm up by the fire in his house but part of him knew you would die if he did. He was far too kind to let that happen. So with a sigh he rubbed his hands together trying to generate some heat before he set off again.

**********************************************

Ubbe lightly shook your numb body as he tried his best to bring you to conciousness.

"Wake up, c'mon woman this is not a good place to die" he lightly slapped your cheek.

He clicked his tongue when you didnt even flinch.

He pulled off his outer fur and gently wrapped you in it. Carefully he lifted a hand behind your back and under your knees. Adjusting you until you lay safely in his arms.

He decided to take care of you himself seeing as it was the middle of the night and his house was much closer than the hall. Plus it wasnt a good idea to be around Ivar right now.

He kicked open the door and gently layed you down by the firepit. He got to work lighting it and gathered all the warmest furs he could find.

Once he had you wrapped up in several layers he grabbed a pillow and made himself comfortable beside you. For a moment he just stared at your face, wondering what your name was, where you came from, what you were thinking when you slapped Ivar. The last one made him smile. You were an interesting one indeed.

********************************************

Death felt cozy...? It was warm and comforting, like the first day of spring after a long winter.

You felt softness everywhere, like a bunch of tiny kittens were cuddling into you. If this was death, this must of been heaven. The smell of wood was soothing, reminding you of your home and the sounds were peaceful. The crackling, singing of birds, snoring....wait a minute...snoring???

Your eyes flew open as the realization that were in fact very much alive sunk in. You could see a wooden ceiling and tried to sit up but someone had piled what had to have been 1000 furs on you, making you feel like a swaddled baby. A very hot and sweaty baby. You tried to lift them off but your arms felt like jelly.

Ubbe heard the commotion and was awake in an instant.

He almost laughed as he watched you wiggle around like a trapped worm.

"Easy now, you're still recovering" Ubbes unmistakable voice echoed through the room.

You twisted around until your eyes landed on his amused ones.

"Prince Ubbe?" Ok now you were officially confused.

"Here" he scooted closer and started removing a few of the layers. When you moved to sit up he placed a hand on your back supporting you. You nodded a thank you and cleared your throat. It felt dry like you hadn't drank water in days.

As if he read your mind the prince reached over to a table where he poured water from a pitcher into a small cup then handed it to you.

After gulping the whole thing down you suddenly felt very awkward as he was just staring at you.

" Um Prince Ubbe?" You looked up.

"Yes?"

"What am I doing here.." he let out a tiny laugh which only confused you more.

"You mean you don't remember?" He asked smirking.

"Remember? I don't know what you are talk-.......Oh my god I slapped Ivar!!" you shrieked in disbelief as the memories started to piece back together again.

You suddenly felt very unsafe and began scrambling to get up. What if he was waiting for you to get up just so he could torture you.

As soon as you stood up you felt a wave of dizziness pass and found yourself pitching to the side.

"Woah slow down" Ubbe effortlessly caught you and guided you back onto the ground. "You need to rest, your body has been through a lot." Ubbe said with his hands still supporting you.

You were about to protest when he held a finger to your lips, "Shh listen to me, my brother is not going to hurt you I give you my word." He promised pulling away slightly but still staying close.

You visibly relaxed at his words. Out of all the brothers Ubbe did seem the most trustworthy and kind.

"Although he did say that I should teach you a lesson" he meant it as a joke but you tended up immediately, ready to run again. He quickly noticed and shook his head smiling, "Don't worry, I think you almost freezing to death was punishment enough...how do you feel by the way?" He asked with genuine concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine I think...but I still don't understand how I came to be here with you.." all you remembered was crawling into that barn and feeling so tired.

"After you ran out we calmed down my brother and I convinced him to let me handle you. I searched for you a long time before I got lucky and happened to spot you curled up in the corner. You were nearly dead, I didn't waste time and brought you here to my home. I have to say I am quite surprised you are up already considering how unresponsive you were last night."

As he finished speaking you felt suddenly very vulnerable. All your life you had been on your own. You took care of yourself because that was all you knew. And in one night he had cared for you more than your own parents did your childhood. Suddenly you felt bad for every bad thought of him that ever ran through your mind.

"Thank you...you saved my life and somehow saved me from Ivars wrath as well. You must be a magic prince or something, definitely my new favorite" you let out a tired laugh.

His eyes lit up in amusement. You certainly were an interesting one indeed.

"As long as you don't make a habit of slapping princes I promise nothing will happen to you"

You wanted to believe that but you were a slave, anyone on the street could beat you and no one would bat an eye.

"You can't promise that....I mean no offense but I'm a slave, anyone has the right to punish me with the littlest excuse and no one would care.." you were getting angry at the thought of how many slaves you saw get brutally punished for simple mistakes.

Ubbe was quiet for a moment then shrugged his shoulders, "Then I guess I have no choice"

You tilted your head at his non chalant attitude.

"What do you mean?" You questioned.

"I'll just have to make you mine" he said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Make me his? What is he talking about??

"If I convince my mother to give me you as a personal slave I would be able to watch over you. Down the road I would be able to free you and you could still serve and work for me if you wish."

You sat wide eyed at his words, was he being serious right now??

"You want me to be your slave...? And then you would free me..?"

He nodded his head confirming it.

"I've been in need of someone around the house anyway however I'm not looking for someone to force. If you agree, you would work and I would pay you. But you would be free to do as you please. What do you say"

You were stunned, this man had not only saved your life, he protected you, nursed you and now he was giving you your freedom!?

Again your instincts took over and before you knew what you were doing you launched yourself onto his body gripping him in the tightest hug possible.

"I say yes! Thank you my prince!!" You squeezed him still in disbelief.

He was not expecting that and let out a surprised laugh. When you realized what you had just done you shuffled back embarrassed.

"Ubbe, call me Ubbe from now on" he smiled before opening his mouth again, "Now I think I should know the name of the woman I'm going to be spending alot of time with yeah?"

You looked into his eyes and for the first time you felt so hopeful for the future, "Y/n..my name is Y/n".

He smirked and for the first time in your life you felt those tiny fluttering butterflies that all the girls had talked about.

Oh dear so this was what having a crush on someone felt like..

**********************************************

Thank you for reading! Please lemme know what you thought in the comments 💕

#viking fanfic #vikings #ubbe x reader #ubbe x oc #ubbe ragnarson #ivar #ivar the boneless #slave girl #slave reader #protecting you #self insert #x reader #slap #sick #faints #fainted #freeze #almost dies

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Three

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 1482

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two

Masterlist Here

You weren’t too sure what to expect when Ragnar said they would show you hospitality, but this was definitely something alright. You’d been given a dress that fit into the time period a bit better and made you stick out less than you had before. well, that was if you ignored the fact your hair was completely different from everyone else and everyone, but the Ragnarsson’s took at least three steps back whenever you approached.

When his brothers realised Ivar had been sneaking in to talk to you their protests began, “That’s not fair!”

“Why didn’t you tell us she could understand us?”

“Why did she talk to you and not us?”

You didn’t even feel the need to mention he’d bribed you with food. Ivar was good enough at arguing for himself. meanwhile as they bickered at the dinner table Bjorn sat at the other end staring at you the whole time. it defiantly wasn’t completely unsettling. Ragnar meanwhile was asking you a million questions you didn’t know how to answer.

“So how does a lighter work?”

“A spark happens when you press down and lights the gas,” you tried to explain while you ate your stew.

Ragnar nodded as he thought it over, “I think I understand. But what is a gas?”

“Uh…”  you said but Bjorn cut you off, effectively silencing everyone at the same time.

“How do we know you’re not a witch?” he said making Ivar roll his eyes and for once Ubbe and Ivar seemed to agree with something.

“If she was a witch surely, she would’ve escaped by now?” Ubbe sighed.

“Besides,” Hvitserk said, cheeks pink from his fourth glass of mead, “She’s far too pretty to be a witch,” he said, throwing a wink your way making your own cheeks heat up. The way Ivar glared at Hvitserk though put you on edge.

It was Sigurd turn to roll his eyes at his brother, “You’re a pig. And besides she hasn’t done anything. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

“If anyone is going to do that it will be Ivar,” Ubbe said so nonchalantly you felt your jaw drop.

Especially when Ivar chimed in, “This is true,”

You could see the growing annoyance on Bjorn’s face as his younger brothers had their petty fights, something you would soon have to get used to. Clearly Aslaug was used to it however as she sank more into her wine. You had to admit the wine at least was nice. “I don’t know how I can earn your trust Bjorn, but I swear on my life I didn’t come to hurt anyone,”

You half expected him to laugh or roll his eyes at you but instead he cocked his head to the side, “Who told you, my name?”

You watched as everyone paused what they were doing to turn to look at you. “How did you know any of our names?” Sigurd asked.

You debated lying, saying Ivar told you but you didn’t feel like that was a good hole to dig. Instead, you swallowed hard, “Well everyone knows your name. you’re Bjorn ironside. Son of Ragnar. The Ragnarssons are famous,” you tried to say it nonchalantly while being very aware each one of them had a knife or axe.

However, flattery seemed to work, “And me as well?” Ragnar asked, a spark behind his eyes, “After all I am Ragnar Lodbrok,” he said making his sons all roll their eyes.

“Well of course. there are legends about you. they write tv shows about your lives,”

They all seemed so proud of themselves, even Aslaug had a smile behind her cup. You felt satisfied with your excuse until Bjorn asked, “What is a tv show?”

“Uh…”

-

Later that night Ivar showed you to a room that looked far less like a prison than the one you’d been in before. “We’ve got your-whatever these are,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd walked into the room with a bag each and Hvitserk came in behind them with a flagon of wine.

“They’re just bags,” you said as you took them and moved to sit on the makeshift bed they had.

Privacy clearly wasn’t a thing here as all four boys sat down and began passing the wine around, “What’s in that one?” Sigurd asked, pointing to your guitar case.

You opened it and pulled it out, “Is it some kind of lute?” Hvitserk asked but you could see Sigurd was the keenest.

“I guess?” you said, placing it on your lap and gently strumming the strings, “It’s called a guitar,”

“Play us something?” Ubbe asked before taking a swig out the wine.

You sighed as you looked at the strings and tried to think of a song before your fingers found the strings and you began to strum.

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night,

Rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife,” you began to sing Taylor swift softly as you played Willow. All four boys seemed mesmerised as you sang and even Ivar stayed quiet until the last night, “I’m begging for you to take my hand,

Wreck my plans, that’s my man,” you finished, placing your hand over the strings and looking up to finally meet their eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Sigurd said, “Did you write that?”

“Yes,” you said without thinking. After all a little white lie never hurt? Besides its not like Taylor would know or anyone could prove you wrong, “Yes I did,”

“You’re very talented,” Ubbe said, passing you the wine.

You looked at it sceptically before finally taking a drink. It’s not like they’d need to poison you anyway. You were already screwed. You all began to drink and laugh the night away as you played a few more songs on the guitar, even letting the boys try have a shot. What you didn’t see however was Bjorn standing beside the door to your room, smiling softly whenever you sang.

-

 The next day Ubbe offered to give you a tour of Kattegat so you could get to know the place. “This is the market,” he said as a little girl ran away from you to her mother making you bite back a laugh, “Sorry about that. They’ll be less frightened of you soon,”

You chuckled at his words making a smile stretch on his face, “Its ironic. Out of everyone here I’m the least frightening one,”

“I don’t know so much,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him with a curious smile making him chuckle, “Weve never met anyone like you. you are so…” he paused searching for the right word,” rare,”

“That’s the nicest thing I think someone has ever said to me,” you said.

Ubbe gave you a soft smile as he led you around the stalls. You tried to refuse it, but he did buy you a knife, promising to show you how to use it just encase. Even the way he insisted made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

As you were walking around the market you did bump into someone. “Bjorn!” Ubbe called to his brother who wore an uncomfortably stoic look as he walked over. “I was just showing her round Kattegat,”

Bjorn nodded, his eyes scanning your frame, “Good. Can’t have you getting lost now, can we? Think my father might have a fit if we lost you,” something about the way his eyes studied you had a heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I hope all his questions don’t bother you,” Ubbe said, giving you a sorry smile.

It was true that every conversation with Ragnar was like an interrogation. He wanted to know everything you could tell him about the future and honestly you didn’t know how to explain how a television worked. “I don’t mind. Its sweet,” you said making them both chuckle, “What?”

“Most people would not describe my father as sweet,” Bjorn said, a smile finally cracked onto his lips.

“She’s also friends with Ivar so she may not be fully right in the head,” Ubbe teased.

“Ivars not that bad,” you rolled your eyes, but both their eyes seemed to bulge out their skulls, “He’s a lot nicer when people aren’t constantly picking on him,” you half joked though you did hate how they teased him. especially Sigurd who whenever Ivar wasn’t around was kind but whenever he walked into the room you could cut the air with a knife.

Ubbe just tutted at you, “Oh you have much to learn sweet, foolish, girl. It’s a good thing we found you when we did,” You did your best to roll your eyes and blow him off but for the rest of the day you found your mind wandering. What would it be like to date a Viking?

Part four here

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[vikingsarememes]

His True Wife

previous part                         ↭ part  seven   ↭                            next part 

Main Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson, Ubbe Ragnarsson, Bjorn Ironside, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Ivar the boneless, Original characters, baby goat, Lagartha, Gunnhild

Summary: it’s time for Hvitserk to take a step back into the real world, and it frightened you, but not as much as when you couldn’t find him and news that you weren’t very keen of. 

Word Count:   1998

A/N: thank you for all the comments and reblogs! I read every one of them and it made me build some badass plot for later! 

warnings: none

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s been a year now, a Yule was celebrated with no sign of him, your heart is healing slowly, you decided it was time for you to move on, it was time for you to live for yourself now, and once you are healed, you will find love again.

Hvitserk has recovered, he still had his nightmares and hallucinations but they were rare, they were violent but you found a way through them, he didn’t leave the farm, not even once, but today he’ll join you when you visit the city.

You smiled as you walked in your farm, it had grown so much, was blooming and very successful, your laborers were well fed and warm, you were developing your farm, day after day.

You had fruits that only grew in your field and vegetables from all over the world, you gazed at Hviserk who was happily playing with the baby goats, it only made you giggle, he carried one and headed towards you “look! She’s grown now!” he said introduced you to his pet, you petted the little animal that was now Hvitserk’s companion “I know Hvitserk, you spend so much time with her by now I’m sure she thinks you are her mother” you gained a little smile “I wish, her eyes are beautiful” 

You wrapped an arm around his back and kissed his cheek “Hvitserk Ragnarsson, mother of Brenda the goat” you announced dramatically, just to hear that beautiful laugh of his that you missed so much for the past few months, you appreciated those moments, they were rare “do I have to come to the market with you today? Can’t I stay here instead?” he asked, with his puppy eyes “love, you must come, I promised Ubbe you’d be there, besides, I’ll be by your side the whole time, we can look after each other no?” He looked down at his feet and hugged his little goat for comfort “what if I see them again?” He murmured, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders “then together we tell them to go away, we moved on, and we enjoy it” 

“Can I bring Brenda with me? Please?”, “love, Brenda wouldn’t like this trip, but I tell you what when we return she can stay inside with you, as long as you clean after her, I’ll even let her on the bed, but first we must visit the city, perhaps buy you a new pair of boots yours looks rotten!” You informed, Hvitserk wasn’t very happy about your decision but you only did what’s best for everyone including him, he trusted you enough, you weren’t sure of how he’d react and if things happen to get out of control, you couldn’t risk Hvitserk feeling bad because he couldn’t look after his little friend “do you want me to braid your hair?” You hoped it would cheer him up, after all, it’s been so long since anyone attended to his hair, nowadays he let it loose, Hvitserk nodded, you called for your workers to fetch you a comb and once they did, you and he sat on the grass.

You combed his golden hair ever so carefully not to hurt him, he petted his little goat quietly, he didn’t wince when you braided it, he barely moved, it felt somehow normal and that’s what mattered, once you were done, he thanked you and you sent him to play with the animals a while longer until it was time for the two of you to leave.

You sat in the back with Hvitserk by your side, Trys, and Elizabeth riding on the front, three horses dragging your cart, you could sense how stressed Hvitserk was about the whole visit but it was time for him to face his fears, it was time for him to remember there was a real-world out there for him, waiting, unlike you.

The two of you descended and you immediately took Hvitserk’s hand in yours, you wanted to remind him you were there and you wanted to have a hold on him in case he’d run away, now the mushrooms was near, the ale was near his ghosts had a hold of him “remember what we talked about?” you whispered, he nodded “stay by your side, tell you if something was wrong, and don’t wander away from your eyesight” you placed a little kiss on his cheek “good boy, take whatever you want it’s alright” you encouraged him and you went to a shop and searched through what they found in their latest adventures.

You had interest in one cup that had small diamonds on it, it was silver, “it’s from the Englishmen, doesn’t hold liquor enough but it looks beautiful, the gems are faux though, you can have it for a jar of milk” the owner of the shop exclaimed “an entire jar for this weird looking cup? Don’t you see it’s a little too much?” the man shook his head no “well, I tell you what, I’ll take the cloaks too and we have a deal” you bargained, he thought about it for a minute then agreed, the winter was cold, someone in your farm definitely needed a new cloak, you exchanged the goods and turned to look at Hvitserk, he was nowhere you could see, you called for him but he didn’t show up.

You stormed out of the shop into the streets, afraid that he might’ve used the chance of you being distracted to find his toxins, the two of you reached this far and it would be a shame if he just wasted it all like this, you kept thinking of the tears and the screams, the sleepless nights, and the sickness, you kept looking for him until you finally found him, in front of a juggler, who was singing the stories of their latest exploit, they told stories of the silk road, Hviterk’s was so focused he didn’t hear to all the times you called for him until you placed your hand on his shoulder, he looked at you confused.

It took him few seconds to connect the dots “Y/N I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you!” you smiled a little and wrapped your arm around his back “it’s alright, as long as you’re alright” you assured him, as long as he was safe, a mini heart attack can be forgiven “they are telling stories of birds that can talk! Can you imagine this? And many other wonders, Ubbe wanted me to lead the exploits but I couldn’t back then, perhaps one day I’ll go see those wonders, I’d take you with me of course” 

He talked so happily, it only made your smile grow bigger “you’d take me with you? I’m no shieldmaiden, I’d only hold you down” he frowned and stood in front of you “you don’t need to be a shieldmaiden to travel, Y/N, you will not be left behind” you started crying, he hugged you and kept apologizing, he didn’t understand what words he said that made you cry, he didn’t understand that you were left behind by the man you love, he didn’t hesitate or look behind, he left you all alone to suffer, you wished if he’d asked you that, but Hvitserk seemed to care more about you then he’d ever did.

You wiped your tears off and sniffed “I’m sorry, it’s nothing I promise” you assured him, he wasn’t convinced but by now he knew, if you didn’t tell him what’s wrong then it might be related to Ivar “come, let’s go to meet your brother, I’m sure he’s been worried about you” you said softly and started to walk towards the main hall, Hvitserk rushed to you and held your hand, just like you told him before, to always hold your hand if you’re walking, to stay where you can see him and to let you know if something was wrong.

Once you entered the hall, it went quiet and all eyes were on you, Hvitserk gave your hand a little squeeze, he didn’t seem comfortable with the sudden interest in him, in the farm, he was just a man, but here, he is Hvitserk Ragnarsson, expected to be a certain way that he had forgotten how “Hvitserk! Y/N!” Ubbe exclaimed as he made his way to you, giving you both a hug, you hugged back, you always did, “king Ubbe” you said respectfully, he laughed “not a king anymore, our true king returned, sadly with no crown on his head!” he teased Bjorn who sat on the throne, he walked to you and smacked the back of Ubbe’s head as if they were still children.

“Y/N, Hvitserk, it’s good to see you both doing well” Bjorn wasn’t a big fan of yours, mainly because you weren’t head over heels about him, just like every other girl in Kattegat.

Because whenever he tried to flirt with you, you’d turn him down, you’d embarrass him and send him with his tail between his thighs, and to Bjorn, it was something new, he hated being told no, and he’d do whatever he can to get what he wants and what he wanted was your attention, which he will never have.

Hvitserk gulped whenever his eyes drifted to the full hall, you weren’t sure if it was the people or the ghosts returning to him, “I thought Lagartha would join in as well?” you questioned, even though you hated the man’s guts, you had such respect to his mother, the famous shieldmaiden who your mother fought alongside when she was alive “I fear my mother’s village was under attack of thieves, she died fighting Whitehair, my wife’s there until she recovers” he informed, “she was a great woman, but she died with honor and now she’ll feast with Odin and Ragnar like she always wanted” you refused to celebrate her sadness, death wasn’t a sad thing to you, it was living that pained you the most, and even though she will be missed, she was finally reunited with the love of her life.

The two of you joined the Ragnarssons on the table, you broke your feast together, over a pig and good mead, later it was time for the ale rounds, however, Hvitserk wanted to no part in the rounds “brother, we didn’t take you for a quitter when it comes to drinking” Bjorn shouted, his drink was definitely reaching his brain, that if he had any, “things are different now, I prefer to stay sober, an oath I made to Y/N for looking after me all those months” he replied, eating instead “do I hear the wedding bells?” Ubbe teased.

Hvitserk looked at you then back at his brothers, you didn’t say a word, how can you tell them that you were married to another? That your husband was gone because of them? “No Ubbe, what you hear is what left of your sense telling you to stop drinking like an idiot” the older men laughed, “now for a minute we thought of you as a changed man! We didn’t recognize you! But here’s the Hvitserk we know!” Bjorn lifted his horn up and shouted “skol” everyone chugged their drink “now… we have some news, regarding Ivar, you must know of” Ubbe’s silliness melted behind this serious facial expression of his.

“What is it?” Hvitserk gulped and reached for your hand under the table, you took it, mainly because you needed the comfort as well “our men returned with stories of a cripple Norseman traveling alongside the silk road with some other men, he’s staying with the Rus” your eyes widened, he’s alive! Your husband’s alive! He’s definitely gathering an army now to come back to you! “If it was any other man, we’d think we’ve seen the last of him, we’d say he’d settled down in Rus but it’s Ivar, he’ll return Hvitserk and we must be ready,” Bjorn said.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​ @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​ @gearhead66​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @joebob15274​

Images source: stolen from google images.

#vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar vikings #bjorn lothbrok #vikings bjorn #bjorn ironside #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn x reader #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #ubbe lothbrok #vikings ubbe #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #hvitty #ivar #ivar the god #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #lagartha #gunnhild #whitehair #fanfic #reader #ivar x reader #his true wife fic

[honestsycrets]

What She Really Wants X: What Really Matters

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk has a way of getting what he wants. magnus is sick of being one-upped.

❛  tags | verbal arguments, wedding oriented, referenced underage sex, referenced sexual interaction, underage relationships, original characters.

❛ sy’s notes | i've actually had this fic done for some months and totally forgot about it until i was in my drive. thank you @chibisgotovalhalla​ for making me feel good enough to post this. It’s more a connecting chapter.

What Magnus hates about Hvitserk (aside from everything) is how whatever he said, went with you. 

The world could crumble, pebbles could shake boulders on your house, and you would still have Hvitserk on your mind. Because he was your first-- and no one could beat a first. No matter how he worked or raged for a new beginning or for better for Mads. It was still Hvitserk at the end of the day. Mads’s eyes had almost popped out of his skull when Magnus joined the clustered group of friends and parents. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“What did I miss?” he asks because he knows Mads by the expression slapped over his face. That boy has been like his son. He raised him. Loved him. 

“Nothing,” Mads quips quickly, snapping his head back around to the field. His coach howls something long and loud. Mads jabs his finger in that direction. “The game is about to start. C’mon Soren.” 

Despite the fact that Magnus knew there was a certain something very wrong, he didn’t speak as you returned to a very familiar set of bleachers alongside Mad’s new girlfriend. She was pretty. There was a soft and innocent glitter behind those big brown eyes that reminds him of a simpler time in yours. He makes a note to ask Mads after the game all about her when Hvitserk stops on the uppermost stair, guiding you in after Alaia. 

It’s not until they sit, and your hand is laced in Hvitserk’s, does he notice the gems glistening on your finger. 

“What’s that?” he asks, leaning over Alaia’s lap. The girl squints at the rings too, watching it glisten, and smiles when she realizes that she’s forgotten to say something. She speak words that make his stomach drop. As if someone had hauled him off to sea, strapped that very same boulder shook loose by his crumbling world, and threw him out into the deep sea. He was drowning and couldn’t find a way out.

“Oh my god! Congratulations on your engagement, mama,” she beams. “Can I see the ring?” 

Magnus sputters. He’s caught between your jovial smile and Hvitserk’s smug smirk as his eyes burned into the glittering gem. Hvitserk’s hand leaves yours, taking a drink of the metal tumbler that he brought with him as if that would draw attention away from what he’s done this time. 

“There’s two?” Alaia asks.”Papa you didn’t. You’ve gone so far!”

Hviserk chuckles and swashing alcohol between his cheeks before swallowing the spicy liquid. 

“We were engaged in high school. Hvitserk thought I should wear both.” 

“Gonna put that money to use,” Hvitserk mutters, the faint scent of yeasty alcohol on his breath kissing your cheeks. He looks out to the field and catches Mads sheepishly waving. He waves back. “Been waitin’ to get married to my old lady for years.” 

“It’s going to be so great,” she claps her hands together. “I’m happy for you.”

The field cheers through the end of the national anthem. Two dozen players jog onto the grassy stage, flicking the ball between their feet. Go Mads, go! Alaia squeals until her voice becomes high pitched, grating, and odd. She’s the kind of girl that should be on a cheerleading team, but belongs on the football team. She’s outgoing, witty, and you find you like her. 

For all that screaming, Mads’s team loses 2 to 1. Alaia beats you off the bleachers and zooms down the stairs to find your son. You’re stuck with the impending explosion that has been boiling to ahead all evening. It finally overflows as people filter out of the bleachers like a herd of stampeding cattle. Their loud chatter blocks out the bulk of conversation. 

“You really thought that was a good idea.” Magnus curls his fingers under the cold metal of the bleacher seat. “He hasn’t been back a year and you’re already going to marry him.” 

“What is with you? It is her choice,” Hvitserk interjects. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” 

“Fuck off, rat faced motherfucker.” Hvitserk snaps. “You don’t know when to quit bitchin’.”

It’s spiraling. You know the men well enough to know when Magnus and Hvitserk are headed for trouble. Hvitserk loves a good fight. He lurches up in his seat, probably ready to chuck him down a few flights of bleacher stairs. You grasp Hvitserk’s hand, settling it on your thigh for to restrain him from doing something that you knew he’d regret. Not for his sake, but Mads. Rather than answer Magnus, you stand up and wipe your skirt down. 

“Mads is waiting. C’mon baby.”

You leave him feeling unheard. In the seventeen years that Mads had been alive, he’d not once felt this way. He had been the father figure here. The one who took the kid out to these father events that you lost with the death of your father and the disappearance of your family from Hvitserk’s clutches.

Then he came back. He gave Magnus that same, age-old shit-eating grin, and disappeared behind you. It wouldn’t have burned so much if he wasn’t at the exact same school of the past. The same one where he got his teeth knocked in-- right here. The bleachers may be different but the area is the same. It’s the same place where everything changed. He sits there long after you’ve disappeared down the steps to meet your son.

“Where’s morbror?” Mads, sweaty and panting, has his hand slung over Alaia’s shoulder.”I thought he was coming for burgers.”

You reach for Hvitserk’s hand and lace his fingers with yours. Hvitserk stands behind you with his hand latched neatly around your waist. He cradles your hip as you come up with the latest of poorly formulated excuses. 

“He has to go to work in the morning, baby.”

Better you lie than Hvitserk. 

 Alaia is way too touchy. 

You recognize it in the way she clings to his arm on one hand and punches him with the other. Whatever the cost was, she had to be touching him. All over him. Not just a little friendly kiss or holding hands, but you know for a damn fact that she strokes his thigh or trails up the taut pale muscles of his flat belly.

“They’re fucking,” you say pointedly. 

Hvitserk throws a look over his shoulder to where they were a few rows down. Alaia slips a salty-sweet strawberry candy between Mads’s lips. Alaia’s other hand is certainly not on her own lap, that’s for sure. 

“Huh?” Hvit says around a half eaten sausage. He takes a swig of his booze, “Ya think?”

You thwack him in the arm and glance at the dark aisle beside you. The movie Mads wanted to watch was old. So much so that the theatre reflected its age. “How is he not fucking her? Hvitserk!”

Hvitserk took a glance down. From what he could tell, Mads was the shy one. He glanced down to what had to be a handsy— because he had plenty of those in his day. 

“Calm down. He ain’t initiating anything.”

“So she’s a predator?” You hiss. 

“C’mon baby, they're the same age.” He says, as if that’s exclusionary, and as if that made any difference in the world. “Ain’t like he’s screamin’ for help.”

There’s a shush— the next few aisles down. 

“Aw, you poutin?” 

No reply. Hvitserk glances toward Mads and Alaia, content with his choice, and slips his hand underneath the lip of your skirt. He considers himself a rather patient man but your worries when all he wanted to do was relax? Na. 

“Hvit stop— We used to be like that. Remember?” Hvitserk cuts you off, rubbing his thumb where he shouldn’t, cutting an outrageous smile. 

“This isn’t about us.”

“Ain’t it?” 

It’s not. The soft tingles of his fingertips, caressing your thighs, runs shivers up your spine. Your hand falls on top of his wrist, holding him firmly where he was. Hvitserk glances down toward his hand, then back up. An easy fix: you loved it when he pressed his lips to your neck. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

Hvitserk’s lips part, broadening his shit eating smile. “Doing what?” 

Oh, he knew what. But he loved being called out for it.

His far isn’t bad at football.

“Fuckin’ what the fuck was that!” 

The ball whizzed into the goal behind him and Mads was left wheezing for breath. Not because he was tired. The old man might only be thirty-six but he sucked at playing against him. Hvitserk plucked up the football between his fingers and spun it over and over between his finger tips. He twisted his head from the goal to the ball in his hands.

“A goal,” Mads gestures. “You know? Or, guess you don’t since you ain’t scored all night.” 

“Shits rigged,” Hvitserk says, dropping the ball and kicking it back to Mads. 

Mads shrugs and suggests, “Should’ve picked something you’re good at. You won’t beat me at this.”

“Tch,” Hvitserk throws his arms behind his head. “I ain’ good at shit.”  

Except maybe selling drugs and chasing prostitutes. All of which his father has made exponentially clear he doesn’t want Mads doing. Mads stops with his sneaker on top of the ball, rolling it up and back, then flicks it between his feet. 

“Have to be good at something. Don’t you have a hobby or something?” 

Hvitserk peels off his white shirt sodden with sweat and uses it to wipe away the moist sweat dribbling past his eyebrow. He gestures his hand to the dark wooden wedding band that was strapped to his finger. The wedding is next week and while he’s not technically married yet, Hvitserk wore it as some sort of unspoken promise.

“My hobby was women. Not allowed to do that shit anymore. Getting married next week, yeah?” 

“Wow, well, uh.” Mads picks up the ball at his feet and searches for words. It’s always nice-- when your own son is amazed at how amazingly shitty of a person you were. Hvitserk chews his cheek, running his thumb along the drawstring at his hips to tighten it up. They walk lazily with one another to start the trek back home. 

“I...” Hvitserk starts. “Liked to paint.”

“Gang signs?” he teases. He imagines his father with a can of spray paint or something-- tagging some poor idiot’s unsuspecting business. 

“Na, women-- like Renoir.” 

“Ren who?” 

“I fuckin’ hope ya ain’t going to France like that,” he tsks his tongue, throwing his hand around Mads’s shoulder, chasing away the thought of the Wolves that were so at the forefront of his mind. “Take a class in French first.” 

“I’m taking Spanish.” 

“Spanish? Wha’s so important about-- oh wait. Fuck,” Hvitserk almost laughs, but it comes with the realization that Mads’s little girlfriend was, in fact, Hispanic. He ruffles Mads’s sweaty hair, shaking loose droplets into the air. “Tha’s my boy.” 

There are moments in which Mads feels like his father’s son.

Today was one of them. 

The date sped up on him faster than it should have.

This time, Hvitserk was insistent: the wedding had to happen as soon as possible. After all, he was thirty-six. He wasn’t going to be a man that was forty and single. No, he wasn’t. Not if he had everything he wanted; a woman and his very own grown-ass son. He had something to prove to that son. That he was serious about his family. 

“What’cha think,” Hvitserk grumbled. His hair, newly cropped short, waved in silky honey waves around the side of his face. His jaw was peppered with a new sort of scruff, worlds apart from his clean-shaven, long-haired past. The suit was slim, crisp, monochrome like you liked it. Better be like you liked it: he wasn’t the type to wear suits for just anyone. His woman? Special exception there.

His son stood back. “Yeah, looks nice.” 

“Yeah?” 

He slipped in front of the mirror and gave himself a once over. He turns the ring on his finger over and over until he has residual finger ring burn. He bites down on his lip, ripping it between his teeth. It wasn’t just saying goodbye to his single man’s life; it was the fact that his remaining brothers were coming. Bjorn, Ivar, and Ubbe. Would Mads like them?

“Where my boots?” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. There’s a powerful thud at the door, then another. Booming laughs fill in the hallway just outside the room. Hvitserk exhales strongly. His large hand lands on Mads’s shoulder with a clasp. 

“Those would be your uncles.”

Mads, the little baby, looks panicked as the door cracks open. Ivar knocks open the door, dressed in a deep maroon and black suit. It’s crisp and formed to his chest. You should at least like it-- given the shit that Ivar has given you this year, he looks good. Why would be expect anything less?

“Man c’mon,” Hvitserk rolls his eyes. “Could’ve waited man. My kid--” 

“Why would I wait?” Ivar hums, hobbling forward. “You’ve been keeping my nephew hostage from me. Come here boy.” 

“With good reason,” Sigurd can’t help but to comment. “You don’t really want to know him. He’s a--” 

“Would you both shut up,” Mads hears another man say. He has ruddy hair and a ruddy beard, with sharp blue eyes. He is almost considerate-- if not for the wolfish look in his eyes, he could almost be considered the most placid of the brothers. Instead, he seems to be someone who is always planning. “You’ll scare him away.” 

Hviserk settles a lily in the pocket to his suit and fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. Strange, he thinks, how you pick lilies. They’re a bittersweet flower for him to this day. When he bought you flowers, they were roses. Whatever possessed you to chose lilies, he’s not sure. It couldn’t possibly be-- Thora. No, you couldn’t remember her.

“Far,” Mads looks over and pleads for some guidance in those soft, bright eyes of his. His eyes snap toward Ivar’s dragging feet, then the drunken stamped in from huge Bjorn and comparatively more calculated steps from Ubbe. “Help.” 

“What is there to be afraid of, hm?” 

“Go on, go to Ivar.” Hvitserk swings his hands at his hips. Mads looks up the broad body of the blond man and inches toward the darkest haired brother. Probably not the safest of brothers to be speaking to but he’s heard his name multiple times before. Uncle Ivar was scary. And safe. “They won’t hurt you. They’re my brothers.” 

“You want a drink, boy?!” 

“A dr-- drink?”

Hvitserk wonders why he ever thought he could be a Wolf.

Asta has always been supportive. Too supportive. You knew, somewhere inside, she wasn’t happy about your choice to get married to a man that had gotten her into some trouble. Her whole life could have gone down the tubes thanks to him. 

“Are you sure about this?” she said in her slim baby pink maid-of-honor dress. Your hairdresser affixed a soft baby pink pearl pin into your hair. “You can always wait like we said.” 

“Waiting…” You glanced down toward your dress, smoothing out the dress’s slim bodice, leading out into its flowy a-line tulle skirt. Your loved the crisscrossing pearls that formed the straps over your shoulder and connected front and back-- maybe a little sexy for your hypersexual husband-to-be. Everything had gone perfectly. Your make up-- a natural, gentle shimmery pink. Everything was soft and natural, and pretty-- and you were so damn happy. “I’ve been waiting long enough.” 

“I know.” 

“And I want to do it,” you held the bouquet of fresh pink lilies. “I want him.” 

“That’s too much information,” she teases.

The door creaked open behind you. While subconsciously, you knew that it wasn’t him-- you needed to know. “Magnus isn’t coming, is he?” 

“It’s just me, mor.” 

You exhale forcefully. You knew it would be a stretch to ask Magnus to give you away. After what happened to your father, Magnus had agreed to do so with whoever you chose. For sixteen years you banked on that promise. Only now, when it came down to it, he refused to do so. 

“It’s a silly tradition anyway.” 

Asta begins to protest that she can do it when your son, bless him, intervenes by kneeling down by your knee. His large hands overtook yours. Your hairdresser stepped aside after having affixed the veil to the top of your head. Everything had been going so well. Something… had to go wrong, right? That was the way that days went. They could never be absolutely perfect! 

“I’ll do it. I can give you away.”

“You’d do that?” you ask him, unbelievably. You look between Asta-- and Alaia, who looks angelic in a puffy pink dress beside your son. Mads perches kneels beside you, looking like all the man you ever hoped he could be in every sleepless night that you spent up with him as a baby-- wishing that Hvitserk was there. Knowing that your mother said he could never be. 

“But you thought I should wait.” 

“Yeah but; I love you. That’s what matters, right? That you’re happy?” 

That, more than anything, was enough for you. You press back the insistent prick of heat at the corner of your eyes and nod. As you stand up on clumsy metal heels, your boy is there with his hand encouragingly around your waist. Alaia looks for your bouquet of assorted blush and white flowers: lilies.

For a moment-- just a moment, its you and him. No one else matters in the grand scheme of things. He settles the bouquet of flowers between your fingertips, pulling the sheer veil back over your face. “You look… perfect, mor. He’s missing out.” 

“Yeah, that’s what matters, baby.” 

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke​ @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk's heathen feast #honestsycrets fics #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk/you

[lisinfleur]

Raiders

Author’s Notes | Oopsie! I forgot the notes hahaha @allvikingsfanfic thanks for this request babe!!! Hope you enjoy! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age Au, requested by anon for 5CW5   Words | 2484 ⁑ Warnings: None

Things were quite simple for you: to be a prisoner sucks, but less than being the princess of that stupidly small kingdom. It's not like you had waited for any chance of being anything more than a wife, but your father had the worst finger in the Earth to choose you a husband!

Daughter of a lands lord, you thought your father would marry you to someone from the capital, but here he came with the local prince, son of the local king. A narcissist son of a bitch who slept with you once in a lifetime and had the audacity to spat at the breakfast table in the morning after your marriage that you weren't properly educated to please a man.

What he was expecting from a virgin damsel like you? The experience of one of the servants you were tired to see him cheating on you with?

The truth is that it wasn't so unpleasant to see your husband beheaded by that Norseman commander when their army invaded your place. But to be a prisoner wasn't good at all.

You were confined to a cage in a kind of a chariot, under the sun, in the middle of your front-yard, listening to their voices speaking on that foreign language you couldn't understand.

Once, that commander stood in front of your cage, speaking with another man, surely about you. He was handsome, different from the man you had ever known. His hair was cleaner, braided. His clothes were strangely beautiful and his voice sounded different from any other you had ever heard.

But he didn't try to speak to you and they were there around two days now. You saw some of them passing with chests of gold and silver. And one of them even passed carrying your chest with your dresses!

"HEY! THESE ARE MY CLOTHES!!!"

You yelled, but he ignored you completely, taking your dresses away. You sat, unhappy, in a mound of straw near the edge of the cell, but then, that commander came near, throwing some papers on the ground, picking up a torch to start a fire.

You recognized those parchments by the color of the wax seal and the silky ribbon attached to them. It was the property papers and some of them would be able to stick the claim over those lands! What was that idiot doing by burning those papers???

"HEY! STOP IT!! STOP!!"

You started yelling hysterically, trying to get his attention. Perhaps, if you could tell him about the papers and teach him how to use them to keep the lands, he would release you or even give you some fair fate.

You couldn't let him literally burn your chances that way!

"STOP!!!"

The thinnest of your yells finally attracted his attention and he came closer to your cage; his face frowned, bothered by your screams.

"What is this that you don't stop screaming, woman? For the love of Freyja, shut your mouth!" he spat, harshly.

But instead of paying any attention to his rough words, what caught your attention was the language he was using.

Your language...

"Can you understand me? Oh, dear Jesus! You speak my language! You can't burn these parchments! They're important!" you tried explaining, but he frowned even more.

"What are these parchments?" he asked looking at you.

"Documents... Documents that set the land as yours?" you asked back, not really getting he didn't understand what you were talking about.

"I need no documents," he answered, "My land." he pointed down to the ground. "Whoever says it's not my land..."

His hand touched the sword and you understand he would surely kill whoever dared to say it wasn't his land.

Functional. But not practical.

"Why fighting if you can just stick your claim and not be questioned about it? Those papers are given by the king of England and warrant these lands to the man who possesses them. I can show you!" you said, looking at him. "I can teach you how to read them, so you'll see I'm not lying. If you keep those papers, then nobody will be able to take this land from you."

He twisted his face, looking at you.

"Why would you teach me? I'm your enemy."

Logical. Not exactly real.

"Let's say you kinda saved me from a bastard. So... I owe you my freedom. I teach you, you set me free. It seems a good deal, don't you think?"

He wasn't very leaned to take your deal, but he knew his brothers would be pleased to understand the things written on those papers and the Englishmen had tried to negotiate with those papers before... Maybe knowing how to read them wouldn't be something useless after all.

"Fine... You teach me. I set you free. Until then, you're my slave. What is your name, slave?"

Slave...

It was worse than before, but at least there was a good perspective at the end of that way. You chose to keep yourself meek. To lose his trust wouldn't be a good thing.

"I'm Y/N," you answered, seeing when he came near the door of your cell, opening it before wrapping a rope around your wrists. "That's not necessary... I won't flee," you promised.

But yet, he tied the knot.

One step at a time, you thought.

"I'm Hvitserk. And I tell you what's necessary. Now walk, slave."

You couldn't exactly understand why he asked your name if he would keep calling you "slave". But you just followed him, silently, gathering the parchments when he allowed you to come closer, carrying them with your arms tied.

He took you back into the castle and you saw lots of things messed up, but somehow, his men were organizing themselves a good clean space where they could sleep all under the roof.

Hvitserk didn't give you too much time to observe. He took some more parchments from another of his men, preventing him to burn them and walked you into the library, sitting you down on a chair at the bigger table.

"Now, teach me."

So eager!

"Things are not like that, Hvit-ts-serk," You struggled with his name, trying to organize the papers over the table with your hands tied as he was locking the door behind the two of you.

The library was a real mess. Your husband would have a heart attack if he could see his precious parchments and books spread out that careless way.

"Could you please release my hands?"

Hvitserk looked at you with a frowned face and you sighed.

"Look... I'm your slave, right? It means you have the right upon my life. If I try anything stupid like trying to flee or harm against a man that's twice my size, is trained, and carries a sword that's, at least, a thousand times sharper than any of my dangerous needles - with which I had hurt my own fingers thousands of times, by the way - you can please spare me from my life for I'll have proven you that I don't deserve to live over my own stupidity! Come on! What can I do? Kick your leg and try to run ten meters into this heavy dress?"

The frown on his face became lighter and his eyes observed your dress, kinda running your whole body, causing you to blush. In his mind, your math was right: he could cross you with his sword without even have to walk towards you. So, he unsheathed his sword and used it to cut the rope on your wrists you slowly rubbed trying to get rid of the bothering sensation of the sisal.

"Thank you... Now look," you said, placing one of the parchments in front of him "Each one of these drawings is a letter. You must understand each one of them first, then how the combinations of them work in two, then three, then how you can form words with them, and how to put these words together in a sentence. You see, this is a whole sentence," you showed him a group of words from a dot to another. "The document is formed of dozens of sentences gathered together in paragraphs. I won't be able to teach you how to read these documents in a day. It will be a process. That's why I'm telling you this is worth my freedom: I'll be your slave for a while... And after this, you'll be able to read not only these documents but anything wrote by an Englishman."

It was a long and complex process that was bothering Hvitserk only by hearing your explanation of the whole shitty path he would have to follow. Maybe Ivar would like to learn this more than him. And Ubbe would surely have the patience to follow the whole bunch of steps you said. But neither of them was there and both of them would like to have someone with that knowledge. He couldn't let it pass...

You saw the commander sighing, bored.

"Fine... Where do we start?"

"From the beginning," you sighed as well, sitting by his side.

It would be a long way.

Hvitserk wasn't a patient man and his mistakes could quickly build up his anger, causing him to leave you for days waiting to continue his lessons.

You were restrained to the library, but he ordered you were fed even when he wasn't coming. Two good meals a day, as much of water you needed and his strange custom of a bath every week. Somehow, it made you feel more comfortable with yourself. It was different, but something you would turn into a habit.

He also ordered a bed to be brought for you and installed at the end of the library hall. Some blankets of yours were brought and you started having some comfort to sleep.

In return, he came back after three days out and found the whole library clean and organized.

You got rid of your petticoats and he taught you how to braid your hair like one of them, making your life pretty easier without the strands of hair on your face or the complicated hairstyles you were used to having your servants making on your long hair for the dinners and events your husband wasn't there to settle anymore.

Instead, your lessons with Hvitserk started becoming more pleasurable as he was progressing and starting to find pleasure in what you were teaching him.

He learned more of your language with words he didn't know. And ended up teaching you some words of his language, making it easier to teach him how to use the words.

It took you around a year, but finally, the Viking commander was able to read the complete extension of the parchment he was about to burn when it all started.

"In the name... of the King... And Our Lord Jesus Ch... Christ. And what is this bunch of risks?" he asked, pointing the king's signature near the seal of wax.

"This is the signature of the King. Signatures are personal ways to write your name. Like the wax seals I explained before," you said, smiling at him.

"And why do you Saxons put your god on everything?" he complained. "This Jesus... It’s your god, isn't it?"

"Kinda," you said, smiling. "To put things under the name of Jesus Christ and seal it having God as witness kinda puts over the men's shoulders the weight of an oath that God himself will punish them if not respected. It is like an oath over your arm ring," You explained, remembering his explanations about that jewel.

"That sounds weird to me. We fulfill our oaths on our own honor. It's reprovable by the gods to break an oath, but well... It is up to you to become a dishonored bastard..." he said, making a roll with the parchment he just read and looking at you. "Speaking on oaths... You did your part. I can read now and understand what the Englishman say and write, as you promised. It means... You're free to go. You're no longer my slave."

Those words were everything you wanted to hear, and somehow, they sounded heavy and sad.

Where would you go now?

What would you do with your life?

You could travel to your aunt's house near your father's former farm, but you were sure she would stick you up into a convent to live the rest of your life isolated, serving God or whatever those women locked in monasteries on top of the hills were used to doing.

And...

You would never see Hvitserk again.

Somehow, it was what was sinking your heart deeper into your chest. You got used to his laughs, his words, the time by his side. Even the way he was bothered sometimes with his impatient way to not accept failure on something simple like syllables... Everything was good about his presence...

And you didn't want to lose it.

"I... I changed my mind," you mumbled, catching his attention. "I don't mind being your slave... I mean, I could teach you more things and..."

You sighed.

"I have nowhere to go. And I don't wanna leave now that I got used to your presence..." you said, seeing his lips curving into a small smile.

"You're a free woman, Y/N. You can choose to follow me if you want to."

He liked your presence as well.

Hvitserk got used to having you around and it was pleasing him to notice the blush on your cheeks and to know you didn't want to leave anymore.

"What does ‘amen’ mean?" he asked, out of nowhere, surprising you with the strange question.

"What?"

"I asked... what does ‘amen’ mean? And also... there are some strange things in this castle. Other than the crosses, other objects are repeating itself in the rooms... Are they sacred or something?"

His questions bugged your mind and you frowned, but he came near, touching your chin and causing your cheeks to burst in red when he smiled so close to your face.

"See... There are many questions I have about your people, your ways... And I'm sure you have many questions about mine. I could show you the way of my people. My homelands... And you can teach me more. There are plenty of reasons for you to stay, dear Y/N."

Dear...

It almost melted you in his fingers and he smiled, noticing it messed with your heart.

"Yes... I... I'll stay," you said.

"Yes. You'll stay," he repeated, smiling bigger.

There weren't too many things he really wanted to learn about the Saxons' customs for real. But any reason was a good excuse to keep you close enough for him to melt your heart.

And he was going very well with that pair of green eyes and those sexy smiles!

Soon, he would be the reason for you to stay.

Maybe, he already was.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #hvitserk #hviserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk white shirt #hvitserk’s heathen feast #sister wives #5CW #5CW Event #5CWHvitserk2 #shot #later works

[therealcalicali]

Ooo ooo ooo how about 16 and 100 from the Drabble game with Hvitserk! It’d be so cute!!

Hey!!!! Awesome choice❤

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

(Modern AU Hvitty)

As you placed your laptop on the nightstand, your boyfriend entered the bedroom. And did he ever look tired.

"Hey babe." He managed to say in a groggy voice.

"Hey Hvitty."

"I'm so beat. I had to take the streets home because the highway was jammed."

"Aw, my poor baby." You replied as you watched him place his wallet and keys down. "Come and get some rest."

"I will. But I'm going to take a hot shower first."

Hvitserk then peeled of his snow covered jacket and tossed it on your white loveseat. Though you wanted to complain, you decided against it for two reasons.

One, because he had been pulling 10-12 hour shifts at work for weeks now. And two, because you were glad to be awake to welcome him home.

The two of you were working so hard, you hardly had time for each other lately. For that reason, you decided to let his sloppy jacket tossing slide. As you continued working on your Fashion Week article for your editor, Hvitserk took his shower.

When he finally joined you in bed, he appeared much more relaxed. Not only only that, his long hair was damp and smelled of your favorite shampoo.

Snuggling against you, Hvitserk watched you type for a while before asking what you were up to.

"Just wrapping up my piece on the new collections."

"Oh Gods! It's about Fashion Week isn't it?"

You chuckled. If there was one thing your boyfriend hated, it was Fashion Week. He truly hated fashion period, but fashion week was the bane of his existence.

Hvitaerk found most of the pics you showed him to be creepy. And though he tried to be open-minded, he felt that some of the women looked akin to Jack Skeleton.

Grabbing the remote, Hvitserk turned the television on. After flipping through channels for a while, he eventually settled on the replay of a recent MMA fight.

"Babe?"

"What is it?" You asked, not looking up from your work.

"I'm hungry." Hvitserk said as he pulled the comforter higher on his chest. "I haven't eaten since lunchtime."

"So? Go get something."

"I would, but I'm so freaking tired." He whined, making sure to look at you with sad eyes.

After trying to ignore his gaze for nearly five minutes, you finally glared at him.

"Hvitty!" You said with a sigh. "Don't start."

"Pleeeeeeeease?"

"I can't believe this. I swear, you're such a baby sometimes."

"Babe, just give in." An amused Hviserk said as he began laughing. "You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich."

You stared at him a moment before closing your laptop and setting it aside. Throwing off the covers, you got out of bed and began to make your way our of the bedroom. As you were exiting, Hvitserk shouted that he loved you.

"Shut up!" You replied.

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

Upon returning to the bedroom, you handed Hvitserk the food you had made. That being a nice Turkey sandwich with sweet potato fries on the side.

After placing a bottle of water on his nightstand, you climbed back in bed. Straightaway, you began where you had left off on your article. Unfortunetly, you soon became distracted by Hvitserk once again.

"Hvitty! You're getting crumbs all over my bed."

"Our bed." He replied with his cheeks full of food. "Relax."

"Relax?" You're going to attract rats and bugs to our room. "Try to be neater or go and eat in the dining room."

Hvitserk shook his head and stated he was comfortable where he was. Despite you staring him down, he continued eating, dropping a french fry on the comforter.

"Hvitty!"

"Y/N!"

"Stop dropping food on the bed." You demanded in annoyance.

"Babe, I told you to take it easy already." Hvitserk replied - calm as always. "You can vacuum it with that hand held thing you have."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed you laptop and got out of the bed. As you stomped toward the door, Hvitserk gave you a peculiar look.

"Where are you going?"

"To the living room to finish my work. I can't focus."

Unsure as to why you were being so dramatic, Hvitserk shrugged. As you walked out of the bedroom, he called out to you.

"Babe, make me another sandwich since you're near the kitchen."

"No!" You yelled over your shoulder.

But who were you kidding. You were going to make it for him eventually. Hvitserk was a spoiled brat but he was your spoiled brat.

#hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk’s heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarsson #ask answered #answered asks #answers #answered

[dreamwritesimagines]

FOH OWNS MY HEART. SOOO GOOD!!! And I hope you don’t add a hvitserk x reader love triangle into this story :/ I feel like it will ruin all the progress that they’re making. I also feel like yea Ivar is a jerk but why would reader need to run to someone else bc of it w/o saying how she feels? I feel like it would be fitting for reader to sit his ass down and be like “quit being a bitch” than for her to just start an affair with his brother?😂 Not to mention how ivar would literally kill Hviserk😂

That’s a pretty good point love! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Omg “sit his ass down and be like quit being a bitch” I can’t stop laughing! 😂😂 And yesss, Ivar would be FURIOUS, like very, very dangerously furious❤️ ❤️

[aion-rsa]

Vikings Season 6 Episode 16 Review: The Final Straw

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This Vikings review contains spoilers.

Vikings Season 6 Episode 16

“The gods work in mysterious ways.”

Amidst a plethora of intense soul searching, Vikings finds itself weighted down in a morass of despair, self-loathing, and regret.  And while introspection and personal assessment are necessary growth elements for both characters and storylines, “The Final Straw” plods along before finally revealing the next move for Ivar the Boneless.

With Kjetill and the other Greenlanders in the rear view mirror, Vikings leaves that thread behind, at least for the time being, and hopefully brings some closure to Floki’s Icelandic debacle. Of all the Lothbrok sons, Ubbe has always come across as the most level headed and ethically sound, so it’s extremely painful to watch what’s left of his group flounder at sea while he struggles not only with his faith in the gods but the responsibility he feels for the decision to leave Greenland so abruptly. While we naturally wonder where this group will end up, it’s the friction between Ubbe and the mysterious Christian Othere that drives this arc. As the boat drifts at night, Othere begins singing a hymn which prompts Ubbe to counter with a traditional Viking song as if to state that Odin is more powerful than the Christian God.

Despite losing a child on this ill-fated journey, Torvi still manages to support Ubbe, but it’s her ability to understand the ultimate question they all face once they reach land. “What is the point of finding a new land if we behave just as we did in the old one?” There’s no reason to think that Ubbe can regain his composure, keep the survivors together, and once they find a new home, set out to build a functioning community. Unfortunately, as Torvi points out, more will surely die before they reach their promised land.

While Ubbe battles his own demons, Ivar and Hvitserk must now find a new path now that they’ve returned to Kattegat and a populus that sees both as traitors. Watching the crowd spit upon them as they walk along the dock brings mixed feelings since it’s not easy to forget the old Ivar, but as Hvitserk points out when they ride out of Kiev, Ivar has changed. How much and to what extent remains the focus of his character. We’re treated to a fascinating meeting in Harald’s great hall as Ivar attempts to work his way into the king’s graces, while Erik steams in the background because he knows the Lothbrok brothers pose a threat to his standing with King Harald. Interestingly, it’s Hvitserk that takes the first real step toward recovering their place in Kattegat by pointing out that the people still revere Ragnar and as his sons, they’ll always provide value. It’s also a nice touch to have him admit the struggles he’s faced living in the shadow of his father and brothers. We’ve seen him stumble before, but there’s a sense that he’s back on track to stand with Ivar.

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The primary question, though, is whether Harald allows the brothers back into the fold even though they pronounce their support for him. Harald’s not stupid, but Gunnhild’s death hits him hard, and when he speaks eloquently before a hushed crowd, it seems clear that, like the gods, he’s willing to forgive. “I killed my own brother, and I regret it everyday,” he admits during a speech that retains elements of Marc Antony’s “Friends, Romans, countrymen” speech. We don’t know whether he’s trying to turn the crowd against or in favor of the brothers, but Ivar wisely takes matters into his own hands to win over the citizens. He throws aside his crutch and faceplants onto the wooden floor eliciting great laughter and the first inkling that the brothers Lothbrok are back.

Though she admits her marriage to Harald is purely one of convenience owing to a lack of true options, Ingrid shows she’s more perceptive than the men. She points out to Harald, Ivar, and Hvitserk that if they don’t find purpose in their lives, they’re doomed to “fall out and quarrel.” It’s a recurring theme in the episode, and Ivar even tells his brother that “I don’t know what to do,” a dilemma that sets up a nice series of flashbacks with his father and a younger Igor. It’s compelling to watch Ivar struggle, and while the realization that his destiny does not lie in Kattegat feels genuine, the “lost at sea” allusion falls flat coming on the heels of Ubbe’s situation.

Michael Hirst has employed supernatural elements sparingly along the way, but repeated appearances by The Seer feel overused. However, when the goddess Idun (Jerry-Jane Pears) provides momentary comfort for Hvitserk, the scene works because it comes on the heels of his emotional outpouring in Bjorn’s tomb. He feels lost, and the goddess blessed with eternal youth mesmerizes him, but it’s the result of their coupling that provides an insight into Hvitserk’s soul. Willing to confront his demons, he walks into the street, gets down on his knees, and weeps. 

Soul searching, however, only goes so far, and at some point, the men must take action. Ivar steps forward to suggest an option that will reunite viewers with the kingdom of Wessex and King Alfred. A pre-emptive strike at the heart of England gives the Norsemen a renewed sense of purpose, and with Ivar and Hviserk at his feet, Harald gives the stage to Ivar who powerfully speaks of faded heroes and the chance to once again be Vikings. It’s clear that Erik finds Ivar an impediment, but the fact that we know neither Ivar’s nor Harald’s true motivations here, the mission to Wessex looks to be fraught with intrigue.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Though light on much meaningful development, “The Final Straw” does provide a bridge to what may well be the last stand for the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok and the men and women of Kattegat. It’s been a good run, and there’s no reason to think Ivar doesn’t have one more power play in his arsenal. For now, it’s on to Wessex.

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