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lordavanti · 6 years

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Ivar The Boneless x Hvitserk Ragnarson x Ubbe Ragnarsson x Sister!reader

Written for: @milbethmorillo Summary: You are the twin sister of Ivar, torn between a struggle of three brothers. And that is not the only thing ... while saving your brothers you come eye in eye with Bishop Headmund and he seem to be fascinate by you. Words: 2940

Taglist: @float-autumn-leave @itharley @dani-si @inthenameofodin @missbrightlyred @burningsunshin3 @zombie-zayde @decaffeinatedeaglefart @nothingbuthappydays @ivarbarnes @supervalcsi @rachiieee @kolvanismirk @sweetvengeancee @mysticsthinking @odins-missing-eye @laketaj24 @tiredofthisgeneration @mcuimxgine @fuckyeahalexhoghandersen @manuugxlvis @happys-crazy-queen22 @akamaiden @sugakookiexx @natmors @dangerousvikings

I wrote this for an amazing artist in this Viking Fandom. @milbethmorillo not only bring Vikings alive in her drawings, she also inspires a lot. So in her requests for me to write this she decided to make a little art around it. And what a masterpiece that turned out to be! Thanks for the trust, the support and everything girl, credit for this art and my writing goes all to you. Go follow her here and on instagram peeps, you not gonna regret it. <3

You leaned against the wall, looking out of the window to how those Saxon idiots climbed there way into York. You should think, after that battle Ivar organized, that they would be more careful in how to approach a Heathen Army, but they didn’t. You heard Ivar chuckle a little and you looked aside you, crossing a look with him as he smiled slowly, looking back to the man climbing the wall. As his twin sister there was no stopping you in following him. You were his only equal in this, not Hvitserk, not Ubbe, it was you, it would be always you. When you looked over your shoulder to Ubbe his face was divided, like it was for days after Sigurd died. You wouldn’t ignore that look, Ivar killed Sigurd and it wasn’t justified. Yes, Sigurd did a lot, but dying for those poisoning words wasn’t the way. ‘That’s him.’ Ivar said and you looked away from Ubbe to look back out of the window. ‘Who?’ Hvitserk asked. ‘Aethelwulf. King Ecbert his son.’ Ivar said. Your eyes scouted the wall until you found the man Ivar was talking about, the man that so kindly drove his sword through your arm. You gritted your teeth, anger flushing your veins as you watched that man support two boys. ‘Oh and he brought his own sons. Like lambs to the slaughter.’ The satisfaction playing around Ivar his lips made you slowly pull out your axe, ready to kill at least one of those sons. ‘Hvitserk let’s go.’ Ubbe said. You looked down to the ground, hearing them leave before slowly looking up, pushing yourself away from the wall, ignoring the sting in your shoulder. ‘Don’t go.’ Ivar said. You turned around to look to your brother, pointing your axe out to him. ‘I have a score to settle.’ You said in protest, not even considering to stay back. ‘And you aren’t recovered yet sister, you can settle scores another time.’ He hissed between his clenched teeth. He was protecting you, like always and you hated it when he did. ‘You can’t stop me.’ You said back, neutral, turning your body to leave again. ‘Are you angry, for what I did to Sigurd?’ He asked, stopping your body right there on the spot. He never talked about it with you, because he knew he had your support. But you were ignoring him more then once and it wasn’t only because of Sigurd, it was because you saw the brothers fall apart, your brothers. You turned around to him, shaking your head, nodding to his helmet. ‘Pick it up and fight.’ You just said, leaving him while walking out, smoothening your hand over your painful shoulder, it was to much of a risk. ‘Ivar!’ You shouted, seeing him get catapulted from his chariot right onto the ground. But given the few Saxon that were around you, you didn’t had the chance to get to him. You fought, ignoring every bit of pain as you killed those Saxons with the grace only a woman had. When they dropped dead you looked for Ivar, seeing how he crawled to his chariot before your eyes traveled up to the Saxons bursting in. Your breath was unsteady, arching your back as they all stopped on the sight of your twin brother covered in blood, laughing like evilness himself. You grabbed an axe from the ground, stiffening your hand around your sword in your left hand before walking to where they were standing. You looked aside you to Ivar, looking into the madness of his eyes. They were all so scared, they were are so fragile and you slowly smiled, knowing there was no stopping your brother. Seeing that fear filled you with power, standing there alongside of him, twins against an army before Ubbe came. You weren’t scared on fighting that alone, it was always your dream to die for your brother, just as he was planning on dying for you.

You hissed, throwing him a dangerous look as he pulled away the clothes from your shoulder, looking to the wound Aethelwulf left weeks ago. ‘Don’t be dramatic sister.’ Ivar mocked, his blue eyes slightly squeezed as he studied the wound on your front. You looked down to the wound, following his movements as he treated you all over again. ‘Ubbe is going to do something stupid.’ You whispered. Ivar shortly looked up, smiling slightly before shrugging and getting back to your wound. ‘Let him.’ ‘Even if it brings him in danger? They are still our brothers Ivar.’ ‘Yes Y/n they are and for as long as they don’t see my value in all this why would I protect them. I warned them,’ he felt silent, his blue eyes looking up to you. ‘Hmm? I did warn them and if they don’t want to listen they have to face the consequences sister.’ He finished. You looked away from him and he slowly breathed out, shaking his head. ‘Y/n, don’t,’ ‘I’m not Ivar.’ You interrupted him. You looked slowly back to him when he touched your face, cupping your cheek. ‘You are not only my sister, you are my second half, you are everything to me. Don’t let me doubt that, I need you sister, more than anything.’ He whispered. You nodded, looking down while leaning in his touch. He knocked his forehead with yours, his blue eyes locking with yours. ‘I have your back brother.’ ‘I have yours, always.’ He smiled insecure and you kicked your forehead against his before pulling back and pulling your shirt back up, looking to the young woman that was watching you. You recognized her, she was the girl that Ivar summoned for a sacrifice. But she walked back out unharmed and you didn’t know what happened between the two of them. ‘You jealous?’ Ivar asked you, taunting. ‘What happened between the two of you?’ You asked, grabbing your sword as you stood up again. Ivar softly chuckled over the way you asked it, all judging and over protecting. ‘I made her a free woman.’ He answered, smiling. You looked at him before looking back to the girl, squeezing your eyes a little together. ‘What did she had to do to get that?’ ‘Nothing, she just spoke some words and,’ Ivar his voice drifted away as he looked to the girl walking around. You followed his eyes, shaking your head while tying your belt back around your waist, walking out of there. ‘Sister.’ Ivar called after you. You signed, turning around to him. He lowered his head a little, looking at you with a look asking for understanding. You just nodded, turning back around to walk out. Hvitserk stood on the wall, gazing over an empty field and you bite your tongue, looking over your shoulder before jumping onto the steps up to the wall. Hvitserk leaned onto it with both his hands and looked aside to you. You slowly sat down on the edge, looking back to him. You both stared at each other for quite some time before he signed. ‘You know what will happen right?’ He asked you. You just nodded, looking down to your hands. ‘I don’t have to ask where your loyalty lies.’ He guessed. ‘With my brothers. But they seem to disagree a lot.’ You stated. Hvitserk shook his head before looking back over the empty field. It was silent again, for a very long time and you just followed his gaze over the empty field. ‘Who am I?’ Hvitserk asked. ‘My brother.’ ‘Really Y/n, Ivar ignores me, Ubbe wants me to follow him everywhere, where do I fit in all of this? I should have go with Björn when I had the chance.’ He reacted, looking aside to you. You shook your head slowly. ‘You think I’m standing here only for Ivar, because he is my twin brother? We stood here to revenge father not to fight among ourselves. You don’t think it hurts me, what Ivar did to Sigurd?’ You asked him angry. Everybody always thought you were like him, ruthless. But you had more feelings than him, you would always have. ‘I need all my brothers.’ You whispered. Hvitserk pushed away from the wall and walked over to you, pulling your head from where you sat against his chest. You closed your eyes for a short moment before he let you go and you looked up to him. ‘You’re my sister, my only sister, don’t go crazy on me to.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Ivar isn’t crazy, you know that.’ You said softly. Hvitserk nodded while he walked over to the steps, giving you another look. ‘No he isn’t.’ He gave in. You smiled before looking back over the field, tapping your fingers on the stone wall while sinking away in your own thoughts. You looked from out of the shadow of a castle wall to Ubbe and Hvitserk walking over to the stables with some men. You tilted your head while they all took a horse and left York. You were right, like usual, he was going to do something stupid. You walked to the stables and grabbed your own horse, pulling yourself in the saddle as you followed them from a distance all the way to the Christian camp. You stayed in the woods, looking how they got escorted by soldiers. What were they doing? You sat there for quite some time in the saddle before you saw that heathen, the great swordsmen, Headmund, walking to a tent. You heard the struggle and you bite you own teeth together, knowing they were in danger but not being able to do something about it. You drew your sword, watching concentrated until you saw them stumble outside. You pushed your legs in the horse and drove him to the entrance of that, camp, turning him as you looked to Ubbe his face. ‘Y/n? Get out of here!’ Ubbe commanded breathless. You felt somebody snatch you from that horse, air leaving your lungs as you smacked on the ground. ‘No!’ Hvitserk yelled as they forced you down on your knees. And there he was, the man you watched fighting like nobody else of those Christians did, Bishop Headmund. He had his arms stretched out before him, hands crossed over each other as he looked at you. ‘If you hurt her, you won’t live through the next day.’ Ubbe warned the Bishop. ‘Shut up Ubbe, you did already enough.’ You snapped, fighting the two who held you down. ‘What is your name?’ The Bishop asked. You looked up to him, slowly breathing as your sky blue eyes melted with his. ‘You know who I am.’ You spoke in his language. Something of a grin came on his lips. ‘You are a heathen.’ He answered. You stopped protesting, chuckling as you sat back. Headmund looked down on you, in a way observing for you were a girl teeth with weapons to fight. So you looked only back, with the same look in which Ivar would look, partly amused, partly deadly calm and confident. ‘Let her go.’ Hvitserk begged. But Headmund didn’t payed attention, he looked at you. ‘She is the twin sister of Ivar the Boneless.’ One of the soldiers said. Headmund nodded, pointing his fingers to the two soldiers holding you down. ‘Let her go.’ Headmund ordered. You pulled your arms loose and stood up. Headmund nodded, with just a that tiny little of fascination in his eyes. ‘Y/n.’ Hvitserk urged. You breathed in, giving that Bishop one last look before turning around and get back on your horse, feeling his eyes all the way until you were out of sight. ‘Look at you Ubbe.’ You stopped him by grabbing his arm and he turned around to you. His face almost sliced apart by that Christian soldier. ‘I was trying,’ ‘What did you thought that would happen? A nice yes please here is your land?’ You interrupted him. ‘You could have been killed, I could have lost another of my brothers.’ You confronted him. Ubbe looked at you with one good eye and that cut open face before he looked down and over to Hvitserk. ‘Your brother isn’t,’ ‘He is your brother to!’ You shouted in rage, lifting your hand to stop him from talking further. ‘I don’t blame you for being angry on Ivar for the dead of Sigurd, but I’m not blaming him for revenging everything that happened here. But this,’ you pointed to the situation. ‘Is tearing us apart.’ You said softer. Ubbe spit on the ground and started walking, ignoring your words what made you even more angry. As the three of you walked into the church Ivar was sitting on the altar, looking at the three of you smiling. ‘Sister?’ He asked with a intense look of his blue eyes. You clench your teeth and walked over to the altar, Ivar gives both his brothers a short look before he follows you until you are standing still aside the altar. He leaned on his elbows over to you and you just didn’t looked back, you looked to Ubbe. Ivar followed your look and chuckled. ‘You two had a fight, hmm?’ He asked the both of you before pushing himself back up. ‘I don’t need I need to guess given,’ his words faded as he pointed his finger to his own face, gesturing to the mark on Ubbe’s one. ‘I was just trying,’ ‘You made a bad call!’ Ivar shouted. And you knew on that exact moment it was over, whatever this was it was over. Ubbe destroyed the last linger of trust and you saw that major gap drifting in between the two of them, forcing you and Hvitserk to choose sides. It hardly needed words before Ubbe said he would sail back to Kattegat and you couldn’t ignore the gaze of your other brother. You looked up to Hvitserk before he stood up after Ubbe and left. You looked how they left the building before looking aside to your brother. ‘Better the sheep run then be slaughtered.’ He chuckled. ‘You are the wolf scaring them away in the first place brother.’ You stated. He clenched his teeth, flattening himself on his elbows over the altar again. ’They did that themselves. You want to go to sister, it seems a lot of you is voting for Ubbe lately.’ He taunted you and you grabbed him at his collar, smacking him down on the altar while you pushed your dagger to his throat. He started laughing, looking up to your threatening eyes. ‘I’m not Ubbe, I’m not Hvitserk, I’m not afraid of crossing you Ivar.’ You hissed slowly. ‘No you are not like them, you are not that weak or afraid.You are like me, christians should fear you as much as they fear me.’ Ivar reacted, still looking upside down up to you with that cocky smile. You pushed his head away and pulled back. He chuckles as you starting walking between his men. ‘I’m not afraid my sister will cross me.’ He called after you. ‘I will give you your vengeance!’ He yelled and his men started balding on the words as you left the church. You walked over the docks to the boat Ubbe and Hvitserk were standing on. Hvitserk jumped off and walked over to you. You looked over your shoulder to Ivar who sat on a rock, hooded and watching the three of you with slightly squeezed eyes. ‘I don’t want to leave you behind with Ivar.’ Hvitserk started. ‘You know I’m safe right, he is my twin brother.’ You shrugged, like you hardly cared that they were leaving. You pushed the emotions a little down, Ivar was right, like he always was. So you tried on not showing your emotions. ‘I don’t want you to be caught up in his anger.’ ‘Then don’t go.’ You proposed. ‘What is here for me,’ ‘then go Hvitserk.’ You pointed to the boat. ‘Remember that we will one day will return to Kattegat and there will be no person or brother standing in our way on getting what we want.’ You warned him, stepping backwards slowly. ‘And you know what we want.’ You followed, bowing a little before looking over to Ubbe. ‘I’m sorry brothers.’ You said to the both of them. ‘You are not.’ Ubbe said and you chuckled in the same dark way Ivar did it. ‘No, I’m not.’ You whispered, giving Hvitserk one last look before turning around and walking back to Ivar. You stood still beside him and looked over to the boat. ‘And?’ He asked. You crossed your arms before your chest, shrugging on which Ivar started talking to his brothers, screaming how they should run away, how everybody choose him. Your eyes rested on Hvitserk, seeing how he went through a struggle you knew all to well. He looked in between Ubbe and Ivar before he looked down and jumped back off that boat before it had the chance to sail away. ‘Hvitserk.’ Ivar smiled in approval. You followed your brother in his way over, crossing a gaze with him as he stood still. ‘I’m not leaving you.’ He said softly. You swallowed, looking down with a sincere thankful smile before looking to your twin brother. ‘What now?’ You asked as Ubbe sailed out of sight. ‘Let’s kill some Christian men.’ Ivar proposed, looking up to both you and Hvitserk. ‘Let’s get us some revenge.’ You whispered in return. Ivar locked his eyes with you, slowly nodding while he had that smirk on his lips, agreeing with your words … yes, revenge would never taste that sweet.

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waiting4inspiration · 5 years

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The Traveler (Rangarsson x Reader)

Summary: A traveler comes to Kattegat to replenish her supplies, but her stories bring unwanted attention from warriors who think she’s trying to pull their children away from their Gods.

Warnings: Nothing really…

Vikings Masterlist II Prompt List (Requests Open)

Ever since Kattegat grew to become the largest trading station in Norway, it was the perfect place to restock your supplies before continuing your travels south. Ever since you could remember you had been traveling around the world, sailing wherever the winds took you.

You gathered knowledge from each place you visited. Knowledge on how to fight fiercely and how to survive in harsh conditions. But the most enthralling things you’ve gathered from the places you went were their tales. Different stories about different religions and different Gods.

But there was one religion that you had yet to learn more about. You heard about how the northern people followed Nordic Gods and you were enticed to learn more about them. That’s why Kattegat was the perfect place for you to replenish your supplies.

You had found a family that was kind enough to take you in for your stay in the city, however long that would be. Your first few nights, you listened to the stories they told their children about their Gods. You learned that they had Odin who was the allfather, Frigg who was his wife and his sons that consisted of Thor who was the God of Thunder.

One night, the family’s younger child asked if you could share stories of your travels. You smile at the youngling before glancing up at her parents who give you an approving nod. “Why don’t I tell you a story I was told? A story that fascinates me still to this day?”

Your stories consisted of the tales you had gathered from the lands you traveled. Stories from the Arabic people, the Indians, and the Egyptians. The children of the house you stayed in were completely fascinated by your stories, asking for more every night. You were no fool to notice that each story you told, their father grew more anxious and uptight.

As your stay drew closer to its end, you made a stop at a blacksmith to get your weapons sharpened. You had to leave them with the man for the day, giving you time to look around the market place for food for your journey.

Your host’s child spotted you in the crowds, running up with an entourage behind them. “What is it, little one?” you question, place a gentle hand on their head as they glance up at you with a huge smile.

“We want to hear more of your stories,” a boy says behind the child, glee in his eyes as the others nod ecstatically.

Smiling brightly at them, you lead them over to a spot where you can sit down with them around you. “Alright, how about…” You try to think of one of the many tales you know. “A story about a woman named Pandora who was gifted a box by a God named Zeus.”

As you tell the story you had heard from the Greek people, your heart glows as the children's’ bright eyes stare up at you in awe. Your story-telling session naturally draws the attention of a few people.

Warriors watch you with folded arms and hard stares. Among them are the father from the house you stay at, telling the men what you have been doing and the kind of stories that seem to bewitch the children.

You also catch the attention of the city’s younger prince, Ivar. He watches as children basically flock around you like sheep. Though he can’t hear what you are saying he knows that whatever it is it entertains the children.

The warriors decided that they’ve had enough of your stories. One man steps forwards with venom in his eyes. You notice this right away, quickly ending the story and ushering the children away from you.

Glaring at the warrior that stalks towards you with heavy steps, you lift your head confidently at the impending income of a fight. By the way the warrior grips the handle on the ax and how he’s followed by other men, you can tell that he’s not on his way to just talk to you.

“Can I do something for you gentlemen?” you question, placing your hands on your hips.

The commotion perks Ivar’s shoulders in interest as he leans forward in his seat. “You can leave our city. We know what it is you’re trying to do,” the one man says, making you laugh at him.

“And what would that be?”

“You’re trying to pull our children away from our Gods, bewitching them with tales of your foreign Gods,” he sneers, pointing his ax towards you as he steps forward threateningly.

He presses the blade against your skin as you smirk up at him. When you don’t pull back, your confidence pulls the attention of the other princes’. Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd now all watch you intently along with Ivar who - by now- sits on the edge of his seat.

“You leave willingly, or we take you out ourselves.”

You laugh at the man’s threat before glaring down at the blade against your skin. “It’s a bit unfair that a group of armed men tries to fight one unarmed woman, don’t you think?” You try to sound innocent, making the man glare hard down at you. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

Swiftly, you push the blade away from your neck before sending the man to the ground with a quick punch in the face. Turning to the next man beside you, you’re quick to dodge his attack, raising your leg and kicking him to the ground.

Glaring at your next victim, you place a hand on the wooden table beside you, swinging your body into the air as your legs knock the man into the dirt. Dropping to the ground, you knock two other men down with another swing of your legs before jumping up.

Panting as you push yourself onto your feet, you watch as on man stands back up again. You head tilts to the side as he stares at you with anger. Running towards him, you jump into the air and wrap your legs around his neck, rotating your body in the air to send him falling to the ground.

When you stand up again, you watch the men slowly stand up off the ground, groaning in pain. A loud laugh pulls your attention away from the warriors and towards a man not too far from you.

He sits on a chair with a bemused look on his face. The three other men only stare at you with shocked expressions. Ubbe’s eyes are as wide as the sun, Hvitserk’s mouth hangs wide open as his eyes travel over the warriors that still push their bodies off the ground. Sigurd stares at you with narrow eyes, trying to figure out how you were able to take down these warriors with ease.

“And you call yourselves fighters when you were so easily taken down by a girl,” Ivar bellows, making the men behind you cringe and slink away in shame. You head tilts to the side at the man that looks at you with bemusement in his eyes. He lifts his hand to call you over.

Walking towards him, your eyes trail over to his brothers who too watch you intently as you make your way closer. “Tell me, where did you learn to do that?” Ivar questions, leaning forward in his seat with a sly smirk on his face.

“I’ve learned a lot from everywhere, it’s hard to pinpoint it exactly,” you state, crossing your arms over your chest as you return the smirk with one of your own. Hvitserk chuckles, making you look over at him briefly. “If this is supposed to be an interrogation, I’m going to tell you right now that I have no intention of converting anyone to any of my ‘foreign religions’.”

You know that these four men must have some power over the town by the sense of regality they put off. Especially after the warriors so quickly disappeared when Ivar spoke.

“And what are your intentions?” the man with the long braid - Ubbe - questions, leaning against the table with a cup of mead in his hand.

“To learn,” you say to him before turning your gaze back to the crippled man. You have seen people like him before. You know he’s a cripple as soon as you noticed the way his legs were bound together. Ivar tilts his head at your words. “I want to learn about your Gods and your ways.”

Sigurd scoff as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, that’s a first,” he mutters, making you glare up at him.

“I think it might be fun,” Hvitserk smiles up at you with a handsome glimmer in his eyes. “Who knows, she might be able to teach you how to fight properly,” he teases to Sigurd, earning a hard slap to the chest.

You look back up at Ivar, who has been staring at you the whole time. He’s been taking in your feature this whole time. Your skin isn’t as pale as the skin of the women here. Yours is sun-kissed form the long days of travel. Your face should be weather-worn but yet you have somehow managed to retain your beauty. Perhaps another thing you have learned for the places you’ve been.

“Yes, this will indeed be fun,” Ivar thinks, smirking to himself as he thinks about your presence in the Great Hall.

Tags: @nyx-daughterofchaos98

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ao3feed-vikings · 5 years

Text

Blessed

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zppQWI

by xHonestSecretsx

After his brother Hvitserk gifts him a Viking-Born English thrall, Ivar falls a little too quick for her magic fingers and sweet demeanor.

Words: 979, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Vikings (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Ivar (Vikings), Ívar beinlausi Rangarsson | Ivar the Boneless

Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Reader

Additional Tags: Thrall - Freeform, Hypersexual coping, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Out of Character, Explicit Sexual Content

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zppQWI

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Vikings

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ivesundlillies · 7 years

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A Vikings Vow: Part IV

I admit I was heavily inspired for this chapter: you know the saying “Like Father, Like Son”? I was re-watching 4x05 and came up with this...

All day Ivar had been straining to catch a glimpse of his wife as he crawled throughout the castle. In between meetings with his men and lunch with his brothers, he'd inquired to every servant that passed as to where Sophia might be. Yet he was met with a mix of 'I don't know' and foreign mumbling, no doubt insisting that they didn't speak the common language. Although the Viking had yet to learn any Spanish, he knew when he was being evaded. And considering that they were servants, his wife had no doubt encouraged them to play along with her game- waiting until tonight. Ivar felt a mix of anticipation and dread flowing through his veins as the day wore on and he considered what Sophia had planned. Was she going to invite him into the passageways with her? What would they watch and discover as a couple? Would that lead to deeper, more depraved secrets between the two of them and bind their marriage into an even stronger alliance? Or would this evening head into a completely different direction? Would Sophia broach the idea of sex with him again? Would she ask more embarrassing questions and insist on 'trying' once more? It broke Ivar to deny his wife, even more than it tortured him to deny himself- but how could he make Sophia understand? She had done so much for him, he didn't want to disappoint her, didn't want to raise her hopes only to watch them crash and burn.

"For a newlywed, you are looking remarkably glum," Hvitserk remarked, forking another piece of chicken into his mouth.

Ivar scowled. "Go to Hell!"

The cripple reached for the flagon and poured himself another glass of wine to wash down the insult.

"It was merely an observation, brother" he replied, chewing, "I thought you would be happy with your new bride."

"I am happy with her. However, there are matters of matrimony that you could not possibly understand until you decide to take the step yourself. Women, they... they claw and scratch at you until they are under your skin and burying themselves even deeper. Sinking their nails into you like anchors on a boat and tugging at you relentlessly until they get what they want- it is maddening!!!"

The middle brother grinned but said nothing, picking up on the euphemisms slipping past Ivar's lips.

Ubbe smiled as well, taking a more delicate route. "Perhaps, as a fellow married man, I might be able to offer you some advice, little brother. What exactly is the problem? And Hvitserk cover your ears"

He stopped mid-bite with yet another piece of chicken hanging out of his mouth before he frowned. "Why?"

"Because I am the eldest and I said so"

"Bjorn is the eldest" he snapped, correcting Ubbe "And why shouldn't I hear what you are going to say next? I may not be married but we have all had Margarethe and probably many slaves together before- not to mention that I may also want to get married soon and I could learn quite a bit from your...experience?"

The oldest Rangarsson snickered and shrugged, looking at Ivar for confirmation. "Do you mind? He might actually learn a thing or two from how we manage our women"

"I don't care" he admitted, his blue eyes shiny with unshed tears "I already know that you are aware of my inability to satisfy a woman so how much worse could this conversation get?"

Hvitserk ignored his previous statement and took a swig of ale. "First, why don't you answer Ubbe's question? Aside from the obvious 'difficulties' that you face behind closed doors, what exactly is the problem?"

"The princess wants to have sex with me, she admitted as much last night" he huffed, pushing his plate away.

Both brothers looked at each other in confusion; one, why exactly was the princess so eager to lie with their crippled brother? And most importantly, how was her desire a problem?

"Your wife wants to lie with you... but what exactly is the issue?" Hvitserk inquired "That is usually a good thing-"

Ivar nodded. "Yes it usually is, but how exactly is that a good thing when I am completely unable to satisfy her, you idiot?!?"

"Did it go that badly on your wedding night?" Ubbe probed "I know she was bleeding and crying when she left, but I can't imagine-"

"We did not lie together. The princess took my fingers to make herself bleed but we have never had sex, that is: I have never been inside my wife" he confessed, awaiting ridicule.

Although he would not admit it, Ubbe was impressed; for all of his experience, he had genuinely believed that his brother and the princess had consummated their marriage. And if he had been fooled, then he had no doubt that both the Cardinal and her maid had believed it as well. They were safe with that deceit, for now- but rumors would soon spread. Why was the princess not pregnant yet? Ivar's impotence was already a common line of gossip, so what would happen when the court and the people put two and two together? Ubbe had to help his brother and quickly if the alliance between their two countries was to hold fast.

"Have you even tried? I mean with the princess?" Hvitserk queried "By now her virginal pain must have subsided, I'm sure if you-"

"I tried that once and we all know how that turned out" Ivar snapped.

Ubbe threw up his hands in mock defeat. "You are absolutely right, little brother: there is no hope for you whatsoever. Everybody knows that if you try something once for the first time and you are no good at it, then there is no point in trying again. We all know that you woke up one morning and were an excellent marksman, obviously, you were born with a hand for the sword and your chariot- clearly, that took no practice whatsoever. Of course, why waste any more time trying to please your wife..."

"Combat takes practice!" the cripple argued "Pleasing a woman-"

"Just happens overnight?" Hvitserk interrupted, taking another bite of chicken "Every man must learn how to please a woman, that is the fun part; discovering what makes a woman desire you, pushing her limits and getting her to beg... Figure that out before anything else, and then worry about your prick"

Ivar looked back and forth between his brothers in confusion. "But how can I please her if neither my legs or my cock work?!?"

"Your fingers do" Hvitserk pointed out "As does your mouth. If you can learn to please a woman with your mouth and tongue, I promise you: you will bring that princess to her knees as if she was praising her God. Just make sure that your arms there to keep her up; a falling and climaxing woman make for a dangerous combination"

So that was what he had been doing to Margarethe in the forest that day...

"What do I do? How exactly do I please her with my mouth?"

The middle brother was about to speak up when Ubbe interrupted him. "Let her tell you that. Not all women are the same and you will need to discover exactly what it is that your wife enjoys, without the advice from your over experienced brothers buzzing around in your head like insistent bees"

But surely they would tell him something? He could at least use some direction.

"Please," he begged "Just tell me a little bit, some general idea as to what women enjoy"

Ubbe sighed and rubbed his temples in exasperation. "Alright, fine. First of all, when using your mouth: NEVER use teeth, this also goes for her if she decides to pleasure you as well. Secondly, be gentle: women are sensitive and too much attention to one space can become too much for them."

Yes, Ivar remembered how Sophia had pushed his hand away when he tried to continue rubbing the spot she had told him about. Perhaps, he should be gentler and more careful next time.

"Use your tongue, like I said" Hvitserk offered "There is a small bump near a woman's sex that is extremely sensitive to touch. Just move your tongue around a bit and see what she likes best- then you continue doing it. Oh and use fingers if you can"

Fingers and his mouth? At the same time?!? How was he supposed to manage that without his legs to support himself?

"Yes," his brother agreed "While your tongue is moving, push one finger in her at a time- and don't worry about filling her too much, she will tell you if she cannot take it."

"But, what if I cannot use my mouth at the same time as my hand? Then what?"

Ubbe shrugged. "Just use your fingers then. And use your thumb to rub against the spot we told you about. That should keep her satisfied and prevent the 'tugging' at you, if at least for a while"

"And- and when that is no longer enough for her? Then what? When she decides she wants to have children? How will-"

"Focus on one thing at a time, brother" the elder commanded "Once you have mastered pleasing your woman, then you can free to worry about your cock. For now, just do as we have told you."

Hvitserk smirked. "And in return, perhaps you might talk to your wife about sharing her maids with us."

"The princess would rip off your arms and beat me with them if I snuck you into her maid's rooms. You heard what she said to Finehair and what happened to his man when he got too close" Ivar reminded him.

"But what if they were willing?" he pressed "Your wife sounds like an open-minded and sexually alert woman, surely she wouldn't mind it if a few of her ladies desired to partake in some Northern 'exploration'?"

Sophia probably wouldn't mind, but the youngest didn't want to press his fortune. "I will ask her and see how she feels about it. But hold off on YOUR Spanish 'exploration' until I hear from her... we don't need another cockless brother crawling about."

Both Ubbe and Hvitserk began laughing at Ivar's pun. If he was comfortable enough to poke fun at himself, some of his performance anxiety must have eased with his brother's help and they could only pray their advice would work.

Ivar was determinedly dragging himself toward his wife's old room, his stomach now full and his mind focused on his upcoming task. At dinner with his men, Theresa had informed him that his wife had completed her tasks for the day and was now in her room waiting for him to call her to bed. But that had been almost an hour ago and the youngest Ragnarsson was not going to call her like a pet and invite her into his territory- no, he was going to go to her. The uncertainty was causing his already tired arms to shake but he remained firm in his resolve; he was going to find a way to please his wife tonight if it was the last thing that he did.

Coming upon Sophia's door, something in the Viking gave him pause and he decided to knock first- albeit very loudly. Seconds later, the door opened a crack to reveal an unfamiliar woman dressed in servants garb.

"Yes, my Lord Ivar?"

He scowled. "I wish to see my wife, now let me in"

Elena stepped to the side and allowed Ivar to slide in before she closed the door with a smirk.

"Princess? Your husband is here; he wishes to speak with you" the maid announced, walking towards the linen partition that separated her from the rest of the room.

Ivar didn't know what to do from here so he just waited, he was on his wife's turf after all. Perhaps she was changing or seeing to some womanly business behind the screen; he could be patient and respect her privacy.

"Yes, husband?" Sophie called out "You may approach me if you wish"

He crawled toward the sound of his wife's voice and prepared himself for what he may see, but even then Ivar felt his elbows about to give out when he looked up. There was his wife, soaking wet and sitting upright in a copper tub. Even from his distance, Ivar could see the small droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes as she blinked.

"Yes, Ivar? Did you need something?" she inquired, leaning back.

The Viking couldn't string a coherent thought together as he stared at his wife, observing how the tips of her long hair floated on the surface of the water and obscured his view of her chest. The angle of his body on the ground made it almost impossible for him to view anything else, though he longed to see the rest of her.

"Head back, princess" her maid instructed, rubbing some soap in between her fingers and working up a lather.

Ivar was still as he watched Sophia rise up in the water and tilt her head back, allowing her servant to wash her hair and giving him a peek at her rosy nipples just breaking the surface of the water. The strain of the princess's neck caused her to take deep and shallow breaths, opening up her throat and causing her perky breasts to rise and fall. More than ever, the cripple believed in the magic of the Gods: for this was definitely sorcery...

"Wife!" he growled, more to himself than her "I must speak with you on an important matter!"

She nodded but kept her eyes closed as Elena massaged her scalp. "Then speak, husband. I am listening"

And he was watching... "My brother, Hvitserk asked a question today when we spoke of women and I thought I should ask you for your opinion before I gave him an answer. You see, he asked if he, or any other of my men, wished to enjoy the company of your maids or any other servants- would it be allowed? Could they spend time with your Spanish women?"

"They are my servants, not my slaves" she replied, now leaning forward so Elena could rinse her hair "If one of my women desires the company of your men, then I shall not stop her. My only condition is that she consents to whatever it is that your men desire of her- and keep in mind, I will ALWAYS take the word of my women over the word of one of your men. And, thank you"

The princess tossed her hair back and leaned back against the tub, her wild tresses now framing her face and chest.

Ivar gulped. "For what?"

"For asking me before making a decision" she replied, placing her hands on the side of the tub "I appreciate the fact that you want to take my opinions into account"

He nodded and averted his eyes in embarrassment; was he supposed to leave now? They were married so couldn't he stay? But... why should he stay? Other than to gawk at his bathing wife?

"You, woman- what is your name?" he barked, attempting to gain control of himself.

She smiled. "I am Elena, my Lord"

"So you're the one..." he mumbled, "Alright, Elena; please go to my room and prepare the bed so that my wife and I may sleep."

Sophia frowned at her husband. "But I haven't yet finished my bath and I-"

"I will help you finish," he insisted, getting on his knees and scooting towards her "Elena, leave my wife and me"

The servant nodded, a smile dancing on her lips; Elena rose up from her stool and dried her hands.

"Very well, my Lord" she replied before turning to her mistress "¿Ves, Sophie? Sólo unosmomentos y ya tienes a tu hombre del Norte de rodillas para ti ..."

Although he didn't speak Spanish, the Viking did catch the informal version of his wife's name and could only conclude that this 'Elena' was not only his wife's maid, they must also be quite close; at least, close enough to go sneaking through secret tunnels to watch people have sex.

The door to Sophia's room closed and Ivar reached for the soap, first cleaning his own hands before even attempting to touch his wife's body.

"You needn't scrub so hard," she told him "You'll hurt yourself"

Ivar shrugged and worked the soap under his nails. "I am used pain"

"Is that from the fighting, your training as a Viking? Or is it because of your legs?"

He dipped his hands into the bathwater to rinse them and once again shrugged. "Both. But my legs are not so bad now as they were when I was a child. My mother told me I would cry out for many hours and would not sleep for the pain was so bad, that was until a man called Harbard took some of my pain into himself. Now I can manage enough to move about"

With a gentler touch than he used on himself, Ivar began soaping up his wife's arm and hand. The simple contact caused goosebumps to rise up from Sophia's skin as her husband drew little circles in the lather as he bathed her.

"Your skin is unlike anything I have ever seen" he murmured, working his way up to her neck "It is like sun-kissed gold"

Sophia blushed at the compliment and brought her now clean arm to her chest. "You do not find it odd? Your people are so fair..."

Ivar shook his head and shifted himself so that he was now behind his wife. "It is beautiful, so shiny and rich. Lean forward, wife"

The princess hugged her knees so that he might soap up her back, her husband's deft fingers grazing her tailbone with his gentle strokes. She shivered, an involuntary moan reaching her lips when Ivar put his hands on her shoulders to bring her back against the edge of the tub. Sophia did her best to cover the sound with humming, doing her best to distract herself from the touch of her husband as he washed her.

"What is that song?" he inquired, now washing her other arm.

Should she tell him? "It is a hymn from the Book of Samuel"

"What is it about?" he asked, now rinsing his wife's arm.

"King David" she replied, carefully choosing her words "After defeating the giant Goliath-"

Ivar snickered. "You have giants in your beliefs, as well?"

"Giants and the Nephilim" she responded, trying to keep her voice even "After David defeated Goliath he became king and one night while roaming the halls of his palace he looked out and saw Bathsheba on the roof. He was overcome with lust and took her to his bed, despite the fact that she was already a married woman"

The Viking rolled up sleeves and reached for the soap once more. "What was she doing that drove him so mad with desire?"

"Bathing..." she admitted, casting her eyes down towards the water.

His ministrations stopped and time seemed to snap as Ivar put the pieces of her game together; Sophia had played him so well, the same way Athelstan's son had played him at chess. He was simply a piece in her game of lust; how she had avoided him most of last night and all of today, building up his impatience and then overwhelming him with availability. It was like the Northerners of the west, how they would starve their dogs days before a hunt only to let them loose and tear apart the prey which they so keenly hunted for. Is that what the princess wanted from him? Did she want to starve him of touch and affection only to allow him free reign over her body? Would she allow him to devour her and tear her to pieces in his drive to conquer? A warmth pooled in between in legs and Ivar felt the threads of control being tightened in its wake.

"You did this on purpose" he observed, raising an eyebrow "Ignoring me all day, knowing I would come looking for you and find you here, in your room- on your territory and openly bathing for me to see"

Sophia shuddered, whether it was in fear or arousal she was not sure- lest it be some kind of fatal mixture of both. Her husband was many things but stupid clearly was not one of them, and now he was insulted. Ivar moved to the front of the tub so that he could face his wife, use his ice blue eyes to bore into her soul and see the truth of her deceit.

"You wanted me to lose control" he murmured, reaching into the water for her foot "You wanted me to react like some beast and take you like an animal, like one of those men that you watch in your passageways"

Was he angry? Or was he aroused? The princess couldn't tell; her husband touch was gentle, yet firm as he washed her feet, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Ivar was still, his vibrating energy seeping out of his pores as he stared at his wife like a wolf, eyeing its prey.

"It is not a good thing for me to lose control, Sophia" he informed her "Haven't you heard the stories? I took an ax to a young boy's head because he would not play with me. I tried to kill a slave because I could not lie with her. I murdered my own brother in cold blood because he insulted me. I am not a man who enjoys being pushed"

Sophia's breaths were coming quickly as she watched Ivar's hand reach into the water. "It- it seems like you do. When it is a- huh! A positive thing"

His fingers danced up her calves and swirled around her thigh, less than an inch away from where she wanted them. The Viking scooted closer to her side, his soapy hand reaching for her breasts and caressing them gently. Sophia sighed and her head lolled backward, her whole body going lax as she surrendered herself to her Northman's movements. Ivar took advantage of her new position and slid his fingers toward his wife's now open legs.

"Ah, Ivar!" she moaned, her spine straightening in shock and pleasure.

He growled and tightened his hold on her breast, massaging the skin while his fingers rubbed delicately up and down her folds.

"How does it feel to be played with, princess? To be manipulated? How do you process what is happening to your body when you can't even think straight?"

Sophia couldn't answer him, her mind was so overwhelmed by the sensations of his hands on her. This was what she had been craving for years; this desire, this intimacy, this touch, this fulfillment- she didn't ever want it to end. She wanted more, she wanted to feel whole- she wanted him inside of her.

"Ah, ah- Dios! Ivar, por favor!" she begged, rotating her hips.

He snickered. "Does that mean 'please', wife? Are you begging now?"

She nodded and gripped the sides of the tub when her husband's hand reached even lower, where it had been not two nights ago- but this time she was ready, this time she wanted it.

"I have been educated as well, wife" he hissed, his dry hand now reaching for her throat "How to please a woman with just your hands. To use your thumb to torment her while your fingers are inside of her"

"Yes, yes, Ivar- please!" she moaned, basking in the feeling of being so controlled, so undone by this pleasure.

He did as she asked, sliding two fingers into her while holding tight to her throat; he didn't squeeze, merely held her there, reminding her of who was in charge as of this moment.

Sophia cried out in delight, not giving a thought as to who could hear her or what they would think. Ivar kept his two fingers where they were, not yet confident in his movement but bold enough to glide his thumb back and forth over the sensitive spot he had touched on their wedding night. His wife screamed and her back arched, spilling water over the side of the tub and soaking her husband in her ecstasy- but Ivar didn't care, he was too focused on his task at hand.

"Mierda! Ah, oh Dios.... Ivar"

She was close, close to what she wasn't sure. It felt like what she had done to herself in the bath many times, but this was not the same; it was so much more intense, so involved, so violent that she couldn't grasp what was happening to her body. She felt her insides tightening around her husband's fingers, attempting to lock him in place as she reached her peak... and then there was nothing.

In an instant her husband was gone; his hands from her body had disappeared and the bliss that she had been experiencing was torn away from her. She felt like one of the angels cast out of the Heaven; nothing but pure bliss and suddenly everything was ripped from her as she fell back towards Earth.

"Gilipollas!" she snapped, splashing her husband with water "Why the hell did you stop?!? I was close!"

Ivar grinned at her like the Devil himself, not caring that he was now soaked to the bone. "And how does it feel, woman? Being manipulated without the choice of control? Having somebody else tell you how YOUR body should react? It is horrible, is it not?!"

Blind rage overtook the princess and she slapped him across the face. "¡Salí! ¡Fuera de tu maldito bastardo! ¡No eres un buen hijo de puta, te quemarás en el infierno por lo que has hecho!"

Ivar didn't speak Spanish, but he needed no translation as to what that meant. The Viking dragged his soaking wet body to the princess's door and crawled back to his room, all the while the angry voice of the princess echoing throughout the castle as she threw things. It didn't matter to him; let her be angry, let her see how it feels to be exploited and used.

The Viking came upon his room and stripped down out of his wet clothes, preparing for bed when he realizing the pain below his hips was not from crawling about but from his swollen cock. There it was jutting out from between his thighs; angry, red and leaking- no doubt awaken by the same means as his wife.

Ivar did his best to ignore that fact as he climbed into bed, alone and willed his uncooperative body to sleep.

* *Grins like Loki* Haha!!! Dont forget to drop a note if there is any specific ‘act’ or ‘position’ that you would like to see in any upcoming chapters!!!

Taglist: @persephone-is-here-omg @cafe-sabor-a-chocolate @ursulaismymiddlename @ivarthefuckboy @fuckthatfeeling @imyourliquor-youremypoison @vickapinto @inumorph @readsalot73 @rrwilson66 @ivarsvalkyrie @vaisabu @britt-janssens @jasmineladjevardi @ayeputita @patiletoproblems @salty-holographic-stickers @itsjaynebird

#ivar the boneless #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar #ivar fiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fiction #vikings

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ao3feed-buckybarnes · 6 years

Text

in the muddy water [we're falling]

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2p1JmWE

by blademontrose

"don’t fail me now / put your arms around me and pull me out / oh, i know I'm found / with your arms around me, oh, save me now..."

Two boys. One broken. One lost.

Words: 1652, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Vikings (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Ivar (Vikings), Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Ubbe (Vikings), Hvitserk (Vikings), Sigurd (Vikings), Ragnar Lothbrok, Astrid (Vikings), Lagertha (Vikings), Bjorn (Vikings), Margrethe (Vikings), Ivar The Boneless, Ívar beinlausi Rangarsson | Ivar the Boneless

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Ivar (Vikings), James "Bucky" Barnes/Ivar the Boneless, James "Bucky" Barnes/Ivar the Boneless (Vikings), Winterboneless - Relationship

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Frat Boy Bucky, Librarian Ivar, Shy Ivar, Virgin Ivar, First Time, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Bucky has the patience of a saint, Ivar is extremely different from his vikings persona here, but we're gonna ignore that, because blade is the author, and she can do what she wants, ivar has a stutter, Bucky knows russian, ivar is a really big nerd, bucky is a closet Star Wars nerd, margrethe is a great wing woman, everyone is very ooc, but who cares, WinterBoneless

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2p1JmWE

#bucky #IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #bucky barnes #james barnes #the winter soldier #james barnes

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majesticwren · 1 year

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The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. In her life made of choices, war, magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 10k Trigger Warnings: Ivar is his own Trigger Warning, Mention of Sex, Mention of Rape, Mention of Murder, Violence. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 14 - The Feast.

Summer finally came.

The warmth of its Sun burst all over Norway.

The cities and villages all over the country were filled with flowers décors, feasts and celebrations.

The forest's landscape changed. Their evergreen gloomy look, with its deep shades of greens and browns, now bloomed with warm and bright colours given by new flowers and mushrooms. The always humid air carrying its heavy earthy scent was now accompanied by the cheerful chirping birds that populated the area.

It seemed as if everyone welcomed the arrival of the season.

The fairies sang new songs from faraway places, and the wind carried the smell and echoes of numerous festivals.

With the arrival of the season, together with its fruits and crops, something else ripened: Bjorn’s fleet.

Floki worked restlessly on his ships, to finish them on time as he predicted. Helga and Angrboda both helped throughout the entire month it has passed.

And they were finally ready.

Their sails were coloured in warm shades of yellows and oranges, following the colour pattern that the shields of Bjorn’s men would have added to the sides of the ships. Some sails showed runes on them and every longship keel had protection and fortune runes carved into them.

Their dragons watched over the fjord proudly, and over them stood the tallest dragon of the leading longship, made by worked iron and wood; it was an intricate piece of art. Its sail had painted a meaningful opened eye thirsty for discovery. It was an ode to Bjorn, so he may lead his men to great fortunes guiding them towards the Mediterranean Sea.

Helga and Angrboda worked on replenishing the ships with barrels of fresh water, extra ropes and cloths and rags, and empty boxes or bags that would have been filled up by provisions on a large scale just in Kattegat, before leaving.

But they also got their spot ready on the head-ship, loading it with a bag filled with several healing herbs, ingredients and clean bandages, with Floki and Angrboda’s weapons ready for battle, and with a few spare clothes and some food.

Word was sent to both Bjorn in Kattegat and King Harald in Tamdrup.

Because if the ships were finally ready, then it meant for them it was time to leave.

As hard as they would work on the ships, as much work was put into Angrboda’s training.

Most of it was based on lots of meditation and making her anger surface, to create a controlled crisis, and make her calm her own soul down.

But Floki also focused on Angrboda's power of sight.

There weren't any notions she didn’t know already about how to read the runes, but they still used them to interpret signs, dreams, and visions. Or to get them. And she learned then that sometimes, even for a connection or a vision, a sacrifice was needed – a toll in blood, to have clearer signs.

Angrboda found herself stacking stones and reading runes all over again, as she did when she was a child. Only, this time it all had such different meaning and purpose. It wasn’t a game anymore, but harvesting her mind.

At the beginning of their training, it was hard. The first few days, Angrboda felt like she was losing ground on the minimum control she thought she had on her abilities. Pressuring her powers to surface, either visions or whatever it was that Floki called Death-Bringer, discombobulated her entire being and it was mostly painful.

It was like there was a wall inside of her, trapping everything in. Behind which her darkness and some abilities would mostly hide. There was a whole side to her being and nature that Angrboda herself was blind to. To discover it, she had to tear that wall down.

It was a real fight. A siege happening right inside of her. It was her fighting against herself.

But slowly throughout the weeks, it became easier for some aspects. While some remained hidden away.

Floki would not neglect Angrboda’s need for combat training either. It was during one of their fights, that Floki realised losing grip on his axe handle, or suddenly missing a step, wasn’t natural, but commanded.

So, Angrboda found a new ability she never knew she had – she could yield the luck of someone in restricted situations.

She knew she could have some sort of control over the luck of a restricted and very quick situation. It couldn’t be something planned. In that case, it wouldn’t work. So, even saying she had control, was not entirely correct – because she didn’t know the entire situation. But if the moment was right and favourable, then she was able to make someone trip and fall, or lose their weapon, or anything they carried. But that particular ability was probably the most feeble one she possessed. Impossible to predict or control, therefore not to be completely trusted.

Floki and she trained day and night, every time they weren’t working at the ships. But as much as her father wanted to push her to see how far she could go, there were still limits Angrboda wasn’t able to break.

And then there was something Angrboda trained on her own. Her connection with Ivar.

She still wouldn’t accept things changing. But her bond with Ivar changed. Yet Angrboda had no problem considering that same bond she was so opposed to, as if it was something that now defined her.

Runes and meditation were not enough, sometimes, to channel their bond. But when they worked, she managed to have clearer synchronisation with Ivar’s aura.

Sometimes, she wasn’t able to control the spikes of extraneous emotion she felt, much less she was able to completely understand them. It happened only once. One of Ivar’s violent waves of rage was so deep and consuming to let her hear his wrath shout as if he was in front of her and not miles and miles away.

That feeling was enough to shake Angrboda to her core, to the point time and space wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Ivar’s pain. She didn’t even know what caused it precisely, and it didn’t matter.

That time, instead of perceiving the world through Ivar’s eyes, like a latent force hiding inside of him spying the world he saw, as it generally worked when she managed to link to him, Angrboda was instead projected into his world, next to him.

The scene around him was chaotic and faded – she knew she was at the Hall, she recognized its smell and knew just because Ivar knew, but wasn’t sure who else was there, she was clearly connected just to him and felt every aspect of his furious desperation.

At that moment, even if it was just a second, Angrboda didn’t accept the fact that her powers showed once more to be growing. She didn’t want to see that scene from the outside, being connected yet separated from Ivar. She wanted to crawl back inside of his chest and surround him, to protect him from his sorrows.

Because his fury, as violent and scary as it could be, exploded as a protection mechanism. It was his loneliness, the usual pain of existence, and the constant being aware or reminded to be different, that quickly moulded into pride, and as soon as his pride was hurt, it caught fire. Just then Ivar could truly become destructive.

The night this episode happened, their connection was strong. The strongest it has ever been throughout their entire life. Yet at the same time feeble and volatile, and it did last no longer than a few seconds.

Which, then, was mostly what Angrboda tried and focus on. More than its depth, its focus and duration.

Her connection with Ivar didn’t disappear day by day, as she naively imagined it would do at the beginning. So, she studied it.

Angrboda imagined there would have been a reason why it happened. Surely, there was a reason for that bond with Ivar, even if she could not quite imagine it yet.

She took time to wonder, though, whether or not would every man she welcomed in her bed bond to her soul that way?

That theory was soon to be dropped. It didn’t happen with Hvitserk. Not to that degree.

But with Hvitserk she had a completely different type of connection. She wouldn’t feel what he felt unless she was close to him. But even if she was so distant from him, she felt his light. She knew where he was. Always.

It worked and felt the same way it would to look up in the sky and look for one’s favourite star or constellation. She knew where to look, she expected to find that light, and she felt better knowing it shined bright. She needed just to look up, through the landscapes, forests, mountains and bodies of water, and Hvitserk’s light would be there.

But Angrboda had that bond with him since they were kids, it didn’t develop with sex.

Angrboda’s theories on why such a deep soul-tying connection with Ivar could have happened were vast and numerous. But also easily debunked.

Throughout that entire month, the Gods were extremely quiet. Angrboda never felt anything. Not even the howling of wolves carried by the wind.

She expected to feel Loki in some kind of way. And she expected the God’s anger regarding her closeness with Ivar. But that didn’t happen, and Angrboda doubted it was because the God could have been blind to it. Possibly, it could be because he chose to spare her.

Though, the space the Gods left her didn’t make her feel lonely or lost, but enough to be able to breathe.

Now, Angrboda sat on the step of the porch just outside her house, in the centre of Kattegat.

Her eyes gently caressed the roofs of the nearby houses and the street passing by.

Kattegat was animated by a buzz of energy and warmth, it hummed and glowed. Music could be heard everywhere, and jolly chattering accompanied it, mixed with the smell of flowers that decorated the city and the smell of various cooked foods carried by the wind.

The smell of charcoal and roasted meats mixed with the sweeter smell of dried up candied fruit.

Everyone was ready to participate in the celebrations in order to honour Bjorn Ironside fleet and his journey.

How many times before she already saw a similar scenario? How many times did Kattegat buzz and glow like that?

Yet, it felt different. The ground she walked on felt different, as the air she breathed did.

She felt different.

Angrboda patiently waited for her parents to join her, so they could reach for the Main Hall, which would harbour a great feast that night.

She wasn’t sure if she liked living in the city more than the cabin. But she still had to admit she missed it.

Even though being suddenly surrounded by so many people was a bit overwhelming after weeks alone with just Floki, Helga and Ragnar, when he visited to spend the night. She still managed to keep a good grip over her control.

After the word was sent to Bjorn and Kind Harald, it became a matter of time before Harald’s ships flocked into the fjord, heading towards Kattegat. When the two fleets merged then the King’s men helped Floki take the boats back to Kattegat.

After their great arrival at the port, immediately the preparations for the journey began. Everyone knew it was just a matter of days.

“Are you ready?” Floki’s voice squeaked with a giggle, distracting Angrboda from all the thoughts and mind-travelling.

She quickly turned over to him and was welcomed with a smile. Floki just looked at her for a moment, his head tipped to the side. Then, he pulled his hand in front of her. “It will be ok.”

“I know it will.”

He didn’t respond but with a smile and waited for her to grab his hand so to give her a pull-up, helping her to get up.

Of course, there was no need for any explanation. Angrboda knew Floki felt her sharp anxiety.

Truth was that more than finding herself between so many people for the first time in weeks, and more than the idea that the next day they would have left the life they always knew to that point, to reach for new, exciting and unknown adventures – Angrboda was shaken to the core by the idea she would have found herself in the same room with Hvitserk and Ivar after so long and after everything that had happened.

Angrboda ran her hands through the folds of the skirt of the dress she was wearing, making an exception to her usual dressing code for that evening.

For once, Angrboda accepted the idea of being more feminine. She borrowed one of her mother's dresses. A green one, which Helga praised to be a good colour to go with her hair.

Helga soon joined them, hopping out of the house buzzing with such warm energy, clearly looking forward to celebrating at the feast and to their travels.

"We should go, then." Announced Floki looking at his wife, who answered him with a tiny smirk. "Almost ready, dear." Helga moved towards Angrboda, pulling from behind her back a thin floral crown. A giggle left her chest, while she proudly waited for her daughter's reaction, seeing her gift.

Angrboda eyes widened while she looked at it, with its soft lilac bellflowers, yellow daisies and blue liverworts. A genuine, huge smile appeared on her face. "Mother! You didn't have to!" Angrboda squeaked, shaking her head.

Helga shook her words off with a nod, stepping closer.

"There." She placed the crown on top of Angrboda's head and then just stood there for a second, looking at her, sided by Floki. From both her parents’ look Angrboda received such pride and love, to flood her heart completely.

Angrboda smiled and leaned closer to Helga, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, mother."

"We must show everyone who's the prettiest girl!"

Angrboda just smiled lazing greatly in the idea that night was special yet simple and common.

Generally, she would take pride in her strength more than her looks. She wanted to be known as a warrior, she wanted to die honourably in battle, holding her axe. She wanted her name to be renowned among their people, thirsty for fame and conquering as every young Viking.

But that day she was just a girl like any other, about to participate to a feast and celebrate among friends and her people. And she liked that idea.

So, she decided she was entitled to feeling pretty. She even found herself wondering about the possibility of catching others' attention – just for pure vanity.

Floki, Helga and Angrboda followed a group of people up the road, reaching for the Hall. Angrboda walked behind her parents, enjoying listening and observing everything that surrounded her.

Kattegat at dusk was overflowing with the orange light of the many fires lit all around the city, mirroring the spectacle of the sky.

The same energy that hummed throughout Kattegat and its people, buzzed through Angrboda, crawling under her skin.

Feasts and festivals weren’t new, and those weren’t her first celebrations, of course. Yet it was the load of great expectations everyone had, that she herself had, about setting sails and leaving towards the unknown, that made it different.

Many other people were crowding the Hall already. The air smelled of redwood, furs, ale and roasted boar, and it was soaked in bright emotions.

For once, Angrboda didn't dislike the idea of participating in such a big event, being surrounded by such a big crowd.

At the door together with the guards, stood tall and proud Ubbe, who seemed to be busy welcoming a few guests.

As soon as Angrboda saw him, she immediately bolted towards the Ragnarsson.

“Ubbe!” She shouted, tackling him in a tight hug.

Ubbe took a second to react, and embraced her in a brotherly hug, welcoming her with a laugh.

Angrboda took a deep breath, inhaling his aura.

She had to admit she missed him.

She missed all of them – even Sigurd. For different reasons, of course. But the Ragnarssons were still part of her, like family.

Angrboda moved away and met Ubbe’s inspecting look that crossed her figure. “I was almost expecting to find you taller, or older-” Ubbe’s attention got caught by something else, and before Angrboda could say anything, he moved, raising his hands and fixing her crown of flowers – which moved to the side while they hugged. “-Better.” Ubbe stated with a wise nod, then offered her a smile.

Angrboda gave him a playful push, shaking her head. “Your jokes are not funny!”

“Oh – they are really funny.” Ubbe’s words were paired with a smart smirk.

Floki and Helga joined them and to both Ubbe directed a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Ubbe.” Her father's voice danced in those words, synchronized with the movements of his head and shoulders.

“Floki! Helga! Welcome, please enter, have a drink and enjoy.”

Floki smiled and just nodded towards Ubbe, indulging in following his invitation. Helga was right behind him but exchanged one last look with Angrboda before entering the Hall.

Angrboda was ready to do the same, but Ubbe caught her attention. “Hold on a second.”

“What is it?”

“You owe me a talk. I haven’t forgotten.”

It suddenly dawned on her, the weight of his words.

He wasn’t wrong. She remembered from the last time they saw each other. Yet Angrboda hoped that maybe Ubbe could have let it go, since so much time passed by.

But he clearly didn’t.

The last thing she wanted to do now was having to defend her pride, integrity, and the decisions she took.

But mostly, having to explain to Ubbe what went on a month earlier, was something that would have inevitably brought memories and feelings back. Feelings she was trying desperately to ignore and drown.

Angrboda huffed and her body seemed to sag on itself while all her energies suddenly left her and sunk through the ground. “Do we have to? Now?”

“I’m afraid so, little-one.”

Angrboda sent a meaningful look to the Hall doors and another sight left her lips.

The idea of having to delay her entrance felt heavy on her chest – she knew Hvitserk was inside, same for Ivar. And she wanted to see them.

“Can we have this conversation in a few minutes? I haven’t even seen the room!”

“Last time that you said later, you disappeared for a month. So, I would rather not.”

“I didn’t disappear to avoid you.” Angrboda lowered her eyes, muttering those words that had serious meaning, in the same way, a child would complain about eating onions.

She huffed once more and shaking the slight annoyance off, she nodded towards Ubbe. “Ok, let’s do this.”

With another nod, Angrboda moved away from the main entrance, imagining Ubbe would follow her.

The situation with all the other brothers was compromised now, in a way or the other. The only one she could consider a friend truly was Ubbe. And she didn’t like the idea that some kind of tension could arise between them too.

“So?” Angrboda turned suddenly towards him, raising her green eyes and proud chin.

She didn’t need to feel his aura to know that he had everyone best interests in mind. She knew he acted out of care and that his concerns were dictated by his honest heart – to be honest, he wasn’t even so wrong having certain doubts.

She knew and accepted it. Yet, she didn’t like the idea of having to justify her decisions.

“So, what’s going on?”

“What do you want to know, specifically.”

“Well, first of all – we didn’t expect you to disappear.”

“I didn’t. I was just at the cabin, helping my father with the ships.”

“You weren’t here. Not even once you visited.”

“I could say the same for you, but I’m not accusing anybody, am I?” Angrboda bit her tongue and forced her words to slow down, releasing her frustration in a sigh, instead of more, unnecessary venom.

“You just left. You left my brother on his own waiting for us to go and pick him up.” Ubbe’s blue eyes seemed to catch fire. Again, she didn’t need to feel his annoyance to know he clearly didn’t approve of her move.

And she agreed.

But waking up that morning and having to separate from Ivar to go back to their regular lives and to who they were before was painful enough. And every second she spent in that hut with sudden frost falling between Ivar and her was agony. It broke her heart and sunk her in melancholy. Every second made her wish to crawl back into bed with Ivar just to be skin to skin with him and see his true self.

“I left. I left him. I know.”

All her thoughts were supposed to become words. Then maybe, they would have been a good enough explanation, something Ubbe would have appreciated. But they didn’t leave her lips.

Though as she lowered her eyes the sudden spike of pain and melancholy that hit her was clear.

Even if she was not proud of it and she wished to hide it away, feeling too protective of her feelings towards Ivar to show them to anyone, she did raise her eyes letting Ubbe see her face. Hoping he would get a glimpse of what she felt.

Ubbe looked at her for a long couple of seconds and then, his icy blue eyes seem to become calmer.

He sighed and then moved towards her.

Angrboda felt his aura welcome and absorb the pain she showed to a degree she wasn’t even aware of. And she felt his emotions crack and move. His concern shifted towards her.

Ubbe moved, raising a hand to her face and scooped her cheek up into his palm, giving her a meaningful look. “What is going on, Angrboda? You have to tell me. I don’t understand. I’m trying- I tried.”

Angrboda just rested against his hold and reacted just with a sigh of relief while Ubbe quickly kept talking.

“Ivar won’t talk about what happened between you two. Not even to praise it. Which is weird, we all know him. And I thought you cared for Hvitserk. I know you two had some kind of unresolved business, but, I always thought-”

“I care.” Angrboda's eyes sparkled with sudden decision. “You know I care.”

“I don’t know anymore. Then why? If you care-”

“Because I care for Ivar too. And me and Hvitserk- We cannot happen. Don’t question me, just trust me on this one.”

“He loves you. You know that, yes?”

Angrboda lowered her eyes once more and this time, she looked for distance from Ubbe. She moved away, crossing her arms to her chest, more in a hug to her own figure than a defensive position. “Of course, I know.”

“You owe him an explanation.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t know you at all, lately?”

Angrboda turned over to him, shaking her head. Her eyes burned with all the emotions she wasn’t allowed to speak of – yet were there. Always. “Knowing. Feeling Hvitserk’s love rips me off from the inside. More than his pain. Don’t lecture me about what I have to do because I very well know what I should do – and what I’m allowed to do. Which are two different things. I cannot speak of everything that is happening, Ubbe. But I have my reasons and Hvitserk is better off without me.”

As soon as she started hinting about those things she wasn’t allowed to speak about, Angrboda felt her throat tingle in an increasingly more nagging ailment, but she pushed her words, mixed with her decision and anger, through vehemently.

She wanted Ubbe to understand that her situation wasn’t so easily judged as it appeared. As himself was quick to jump to the wrong conclusions.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“Yes, well- And the truth about Ivar is simple: he asked me to lay with him, because he wanted to be with a woman, to be like all of you guys. I felt honoured to do so. And I thought it would break Hvitserk’s heart enough to finally separate us. Simple as that. Ivar knows my reasons and knows his own reasons-" she looked at Ubbe, glaring into his blue eyes. Truth sparkled through her irises. "-what happened throughout the night it’s no one else’s business. But you need to understand, I care for Ivar deeply. We used each other – and still care for one another. That’s all.”

“Is it so?”

“Yes.”

“Well. You definitely broke Hvitserk’s heart. But I’m not sure he will ever stop loving you.” Finally, the glimpse of a smile appeared on Ubbe’s lips and quickly spread through to Angrboda. She smirked back, knowing Ubbe was not joking or taking his words any less seriously, yet welcoming that break of tension.

Especially when she perfectly knew Ubbe spoke the truth.

How could it be any different? She was Hvitserk’s soulmate. And he hers. What they felt for each other would have never died. But that was ok, they just needed to quiet it down enough to be able to ignore it.

“Now, I’ve been meaning to ask how you are, but you are particularly elusive – and I cannot even say I’m surprised about it. Be it on purpose or not, I’m glad you are here.”

“I am ok, thank you. As much as I can be. And I am happy to be here too. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s been difficult, lately, trying to keep everyone at peace.”

“Why?”

Ubbe took a deep breath and looked away. A sudden wave of awkwardness surrounded him and it seemed clear he didn’t want to have that conversation.

“Ubbe.” Angrboda called him back, moving to bring his eyes back, focusing on her. “What happened?”

“The tension between Sigurd and Ivar is getting heavier and heavier by the day. They cannot be left in the same room or they will bite each other heads off.”

“Oh-”

“And-” Ubbe paused and then released a deep huff looking away once more if his emotions weren’t clear enough, his distress was noticeable enough by the stiffness of his neck and shoulders.

“Ubbe?”

“There’s been rumours going around, lately. People are talking, a lot – and it doesn’t help anyone.”

“I’ve been out of town. What are they saying then?”

“It got worse, Angrboda. All the chattering about you and your character and involvement with us. It got worse. People think you’re up to no-good now more than ever. In fact, I think it will be better if you sit around us later.”

Angrboda shook her head and shrugged, scoffing a laugh. “Don’t you think that would make it worse, actually?”

“Yes. And no, because we can keep an eye out for you. Me and Hvitserk, that is, of course. So, I don’t care what they think but I rather have you safe.”

“I don’t need guards, Ubbe. I am fine.”

“Yes, I think you do. Listen to me and swallow your pride for once. Either be with us or stay next to your father – but keep your eyes open.”

“Do you think people would actually-”

“I think you stand in a dangerous position. Especially tonight. You will leave tomorrow – and you will have your chance to prove your worth, I am sure. But for now, people do not respect you enough.”

Angrboda frowned and felt suddenly dizzy, not entirely able to understand the degree Ubbe’s words had.

She knew people didn’t like her. And she knew sometimes she wasn’t safe to be on her own. But to a public event, so celebrative like a feast. Not being safe then meant that public opinion really got worse and worse.

Why she didn’t feel anything about it? Why the whispers didn’t suggest anything to her ear?

Did the Gods send Ubbe to talk to her specifically?

“And there’s more-”

“What else?”

“Voice got out – of your relationship with Hvitserk. And with Ivar. It’s- I don’t know how – but it’s now out there, and it’s backlashing on you. People are more convinced than ever you’re manipulating us.”

“Oh-oh, no. How did it happen?! No one knew! But a few-”

“If I have to take a wild guess…” Ubbe sent her a meaningful look and Angrboda didn’t need him to say anything to understand clearly where his thoughts went.

Sigurd.

Why was he on such a strong crusade against her?

She knew he didn’t like her but to get to such a point?

“I know these rumours are stupid – most of us know. But there’s not much we can do and you weren’t around to vouch for yourself. It got out of hand.”

“You should have said something sooner! You-”

“What could we have done? I think it was actually better that you stayed away. I think it would have become unbearable if you were around. Some people with still a crumb of brain in their heads actually noticed your absence, and that’s why some do recognise the rumours as nothing more.”

“Why do I feel like there’s something more?”

“Because there is-”

Angrboda just waited – thinking that if she had to digest her feelings, and come to terms with the idea she could get lynched any second now, might as well be hit by whatever else lurked for her.

“I will say it now and I will say it once, ok? I expect you to behave, after what I have to say. I want you to keep it quiet, and if you have to sort any situation, do it privately. Not because I wouldn’t back you up – but because this evening is important to us. There are Kings and emissaries at the Hall, we cannot-”

“Yes, I understand, stop patronizing me. What else has happened?”

“If you do care for Ivar, as you said, then you should speak to him.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Ivar?”

Ubbe sighed. He felt so uncomfortable with the idea of talking forward, that the feeling crawled under her skin so deeply to give her a shiver.

Angrboda could almost feel how many times he bit his tongue before explaining.

“Just speak to him, later on.”

The feast proceeded between music, ale, food and laughter.

Every guest seemed to be enjoying their time and throughout the night both people from Tamdrup and Kattegat mixed together as one in loud chattering and general celebration.

Even Angrboda, despite everything, managed to have some fun.

She did as Ubbe suggested: she swallowed her pride and occupied a seat next to him and Hvitserk, accepting their protection.

In the beginning, the whole situation felt awkward and she felt extremely uncomfortable under her own skin. Especially sitting next to Hvitserk.

For obvious reasons, it felt like a heavy winter fell between them – but with Ubbe’s help and some ale aid, soon Hvitserk’s spirit melted enough to push their awkward sorrows aside. And they had fun, cracking jokes and exchanging stories, people watching, even dancing at some point.

It was nice. She actually managed to forget who she was, deceiving herself to an apparent fraction of reality as a normal person.

Angrboda did her best to ignore Sigurd’s presence or every emotion coming from his aura. Even if it was hard.

But she wouldn’t have left her safe spot between the two older brothers, just because Sigurd made the air uneasy and difficult to breathe in. Mostly, she didn’t accept the idea to let him think he won something.

She couldn’t understand why he kept fighting as much as he was doing, stuffing all his anger, all his hate in the wrong things.

Actually, she could. She knew exactly why he felt that way, but deeply disapproved. It was getting worse, and it was jeopardizing her. It wasn’t a hateful joke or venomous words, it wasn’t receiving a push or just a bit of bullying, it was endangering and hurting people.

And Kattegat was her home. One day, she would come back to it, hopefully with glory on her shoulders, enough so people would forget she was a witch. But if her situation got as much out of hand as Ubbe said, then Sigurd is to hold responsible for making her life ten times harder now.

Kattegat was her home, but would it accept her?

It wasn’t fair.

Angrboda did a very good job in pushing those thoughts aside and pulling a brave face, though.

Throughout the night, she kept as far away as possible from Floki, not intentioned in worrying her father furthermore. She decided he and Helga were entitled to have a night of fun.

But there was someone else she didn’t dare to step close to. Ivar.

He sat at the head of the main table and observed everything and everyone. Every now and then, Angrboda looked over, just to follow his stirred seas eyes around the room to see what he was watching.

She felt his mind moving, his brain absorbing, she knew he was studying everyone. Especially the most important people in the room, besides the Queen’s family and Bjorn and his wife Torvi, those were King Harald and his brother Halfdan the Black.

If Ivar’s aura wasn’t strongly connected to hers enough to stroke it constantly even from such a distance, she just needed to look at him to spot the dark shadow surrounding his aura, shaping and shifting around Ivar at every thought and change of emotion.

Their eyes crossed a few times, and every time she felt Ivar’s emotions spiked in such despite and deep offence.

Ubbe did warn her and he definitely wasn’t wrong. Something happened and she needed to talk to Ivar. Especially knowing she needed to leave him so soon, and for good.

No way she would have let those be the last feelings he felt for her.

Not after what they had. Not when the absolute devotion and love he had for her the night they shared still burned into her mind and chest.

The only reason why Angrboda had yet to approach the younger Ragnarsson was because of his mother.

Aslaug sat next to him and spent the night chatting away with his son, behaving more like a guardian than anything else.

If Aslaug always had affection and respect for Angrboda throughout the years, now those feelings were definitely gone. And Angrboda could not say she wouldn’t understand after the rumours about her came out.

She knew that Aslaug would have never judged her regarding being gifted, being a gifted woman herself. But she knew she would have definitely judged her harshly for sleeping with two of her sons, especially when one of them was Ivar.

She just wished she had more time to solve all the misunderstandings that had been dawning upon her, at least with people that were the closest to her.

But she didn’t.

And then finally, the right moment she has been waiting for presented itself.

As soon as Aslaug left her seat, Angrboda knew it was her chance.

She sent a look over to the head of the table, finding Ivar waiting for her eyes.

He widened his shoulders and raised his head proudly. His eyes sparkled crossing hers and his lips arched in a grim smirk.

His expression gave her a shiver. There was something in his way of always being a step ahead of everyone. And of course, he knew already she wouldn’t have ignored him. It was clear he was expecting her to do the first move and didn’t have any intention to chase her.

Angrboda moved slightly towards Ubbe. Just placing a hand on his shoulder, she called his attention but didn’t say a word before getting up.

There was not much to be explained anyway, but she thought to give him heads-up, so then he could happily keep an eye out for her, as he felt comfortable doing the whole evening.

She exchanged a brief look with Hvitserk before moving away.

As she did for most of the evening - and with most of the people surrounding her – Angrboda did her best to push his aura away from her, much preferring not to be influenced and overwhelmed by everything Hvitserk felt at all times. Especially for her, especially if it was to see her leaving his side to reach for Ivar's.

She walked slowly, not to attract particular attention to herself. Ivar’s eyes accompanied her the whole way, with his confident smirk carving deeper and deeper into his expression.

The closer she got, the more his darkness seemed to react to her. She felt his shadows move and mix to hers both from the inside and out, accompanied by the sparkles of the fairies that surrounded everyone that evening.

“I need to talk to you.” She announced finally, once she stood in front of him.

Ivar lifted his head and leaned comfortably against the back of the chair, offering her a smart smile. Just after a second of studying her image, caressing her figure from head to toe with his grey eyes, Ivar finally nodded towards her. “Be my guest, Loki-Kissed.”

Angrboda felt a shiver crossing her back hearing her given name rolling on his tongue.

She breathed in his emotions, feeling his bitterness towards her, but also the disappointment, frustration and pain that hid underneath his cockiness. There was a great deal of pride and a hint of anger hiding his cracked heart.

Angrboda shrugged, shaking her head. “Privately, if you may.”

“No. I may not. You can tell me anything you want right here, no?” Ivar accompanied his words widening his arms, clearly hinting to the crowded room that surrounded him.

The fact that he was so stubborn and proudly playing hard to catch was enough to fill Angrboda with enough frustration to make her grumble, raising her eyes to the ceiling. She even had to tone her reaction down, remembering Ubbe’s words.

“Ivar.”

“Yes, Angrboda?” Ivar’s eyes sparkled. He was clearly feeding off his ego, annoying her, and she just needed to know him to know it. Her empathic abilities were unnecessary when it came to understanding Ivar.

She knew she didn’t have much time, as much as she knew that Ivar’s curiosity would have given her what she wanted, sooner or later.

Of course, she rathered sooner.

“Please? I really do need to talk to you.”

“Now? Now, you want to talk? You picked an inconvenient situation, you see? Unfortunately, I’m enjoying the feast and I rather assist to the happenings around me. Especially when my mother just went to welcome the arrival of none other but Lagertha. Actually, you could be useful to me. Why don’t you syntonise on them and tell me what they are feeling? Especially Lagertha, I am curious.”

Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling once more. This time, she remained in that position for a few seconds, pushing her eager anger down and trying to focus to stay calm.

She didn’t know Lagertha would attend the feast but should have expected it since her son Bjorn was the one leading the expedition.

Part of her wanted to meet her – as much as she wanted to meet King Harald and his brother. Just to know all the important people roaming the Hall. But Angrboda had priorities at the moment and Lagertha could have come later.

Angrboda gazed back at Ivar. Besides his words, he didn’t seem much interested in what was going on between his mother and Lagertha, since he didn’t take his eyes off her once. Which was a strong hint of how much attention he was still giving her, even if he was as stubborn as a mule.

Angrboda moved closer to him, her eyes met his, burning with the same degree of determination. “Right. We need to talk, so feel free to follow me. I will be waiting for a short amount of time. If you won’t, then whatever is your problem with me then it will be on you, don’t hold me responsible for whatever reason you’re being an asshole.”

Angrboda felt the shot of anger spike through his aura and hit inside her chest – and ignored it completely.

In that specific case, anger was good. Anger would have got Ivar to move. He would have never missed an occasion when challenged.

Which was the reason why, while she moved turning around the table, a tiny smile of victory appeared on her lips.

Angrboda didn’t look back to check if Ivar was actually following her, she walked towards the back of the Hall, to the private quarters where the Queen’s room could be found.

Once she left the main room filled with music, loud chattering and the dense smell of ale, food and people, Angrboda took a deep breath, filling her lungs up with the energy of that way quieter and darker place.

She stood in the middle of the room, with her arms crossed to her chest and her back to the door.

If Ivar followed her, she actually didn’t mind being a bit dramatic, just imitating his ways and giving him back a bit of what he deserves after his little scene at the table.

And if he decided not to follow her, then at least she wouldn’t have waited desperately looking at the door and hoping in vain, keeping a bit of dignity. Plus an unwanted, not required broken heart.

After a few moments though, she heard the familiar heavy dragging noise of Ivar crawling on the floor.

Angrboda could not deny the relief that completely surrounded her and actually welcomed it with a smile, that she made sure to hide though. She had absolutely no intention to give Ivar any satisfaction whatsoever.

She didn’t know what happened and why he felt the way he did. But absolutely hated the idea that despite growing years of friendship – let alone all the rest - he could turn against her like that. Angrboda wanted a confrontation to understand what happened but wasn’t about to go at it peacefully.

Pushing her expression into a serious mask, Angrboda turned over, gazing over towards Ivar.

His eyes sparkled in the darker room, lit just by the flicker of a few candles.

“What is going on?” She finally asked after a few seconds of them just proudly looking at each other.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Get out my head.” Ivar shook his hand mid-air, as if he could flap her empathy away.

Not that she needed her abilities to understand how differently Ivar was behaving with her now, compared to the last time.

Angrboda huffed, letting her arms fall along her sides. “Sorry, can’t control it.”

Ivar just slid his eyes across the room, clearly annoyed and then moved, looking for a place to take a sit and gain some higher ground from where to have that conversation.

He climbed his way up a solid wood trunk and found a sit. Angrboda gave him time, and just when he turned overcrossing her eyes, she took a step closer. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I said nothing. We went back to our regular lives. Wasn’t that the plan?”

His words hit her like thin, sharp blades.

“This is not our regular life. You never looked at me the way you do now.”

“How am I supposed to look at you?”

“At least like a friend, not like someone you would happily move out your way.”

“I’m not the boy you knew anymore.”

Another deep stab right through her chest.

The boy she knew and the man she knew he would become were wearing the same skin, having the same strength, the same determination and brilliant mind – and the same darkness, but also the same promise of sweetness to them.

She saw it. She felt it. The boy who let her slip through the cracks and see his fragile, loving side, would be the same man who would let her in in future times.

She knew he was just using his usual tactic of being extremely unpleasant to push people away.

“You wanted this-" he spat moving his hands mid-air, "-you wanted us to go back to what we were, what we had always been. Which is nothing – so, why do you want to be friends all of a sudden?”

“We were friends!”

“How much will it matter when you will leave, tomorrow?”

“Is that it?! Are you angry at me because I’m leaving?”

“Well, I didn’t even know you would. If we were such good friends, what a piece of information to keep tucked away, huh? I found out through Hvitserk.”

“My father was building Bjorn’s ships. I thought-”

“It would be obvious? Well, I would have still appreciated it if you told me. But, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving, I am leaving soon too, and maybe we won’t ever see each other again, so what does it matter if we are friends?”

Angrboda was ready to whip a salty answer. With her annoyance, her anger was waking up, and with her anger, her darkness was always next to start stretching and to grow seeping through her.

But Ivar’s words distracted her – more than the core of their argument. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I am leaving. With my father. To go to England.” Ivar tipped his head on the side and offered a cold, proud smile.

For a moment, Angrboda forgot their quarrel, which seemed stupid compared to the fact he was going to embrace his Viking inheritance and leave for the adventure.

It was something great, something Ivar trained for his entire life, even if people always doubt he would be able to do so.

Angrboda moved closer and offered him an honest smile that Ivar didn’t seem ready for, to which he reacted freezing and trying to find a bit of distance from her.

“I am glad you’re going. It’s good news!”

“Don’t do that.” Ivar broke their eye contact, looking away. His face froze into a serious, almost disgusted face.

Inside her chest, Angrboda felt his heartbeat at the same rhythm of his pride, a pulsating wave that resonated into his aura, growing darker and darker by the second.

“Do what?”

“Patronize and cuddle me. Do not treat me as a kid. Did any other man got praised for being called to raid?”

“Ivar, I –”

“You what?!” Ivar shot her a look, his stirred seas eyes burned through her, to the point Angrboda felt pushed to take a step back.

“Why are you being like this? Why are you fighting me?”

“You are truly something, aren’t you? Maybe the people are right. Maybe Sigurd is right, you’re so good at manipulating all of us with your pretty face that we never realised how slimy you can be.”

“Hold on. What did you just say?”

Ivar’s poisonous words hit her but her pain quickly burned, shaping itself into anger. Angrboda felt the familiar buzzing of her darkness waking and growing inside of her, like smoke filling the air.

“You heard me well.”

“I wished you could hear yourself.”

“No, I wish you could hear yourself! You’re so full of yourself and truly a hypocrite. So good at lying you fooled even me. But I see it now.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“The way you talk to me. The way you look at me. Everything you do. You’re like anyone else. Like my mother. Acting out of pity.”

“Pity?!” Angrboda spitted that word like it was venom, frowning and reserving an intense look to Ivar. Not realising her eyes were turning darker now.

The more he spoke, the more he hurt her. And the more Angrboda was hurt, the more her darkness would grow.

“I bet that is why you wanted to talk to me before you would leave. Poor, little Ivar left all alone. I bet it is also why you actually went all the way with me that night – because of pity. Poor me, huh? You must have thought it would have been my only chance with a woman. Damn, you acted so well you fooled me.” Ivar started clapping his hands, as if there was actually something to praise, but the rain of his toxic words didn’t stop there. “-And I bet that’s why you hid up in the forest – could not stand the sight of me. Must be tough.”

At every sentence, Angrboda became visibly less and less stable and it seemed like the more she shook and stiffened to his words, the more he felt entitled to continue. And a bigger, darker smile would grow on his lips.

But when Ivar touched the matter of them being together, that particularly set her off.

She really wanted to find a way to answer to him calmly, having the upper hand. She would have been able to do so if the matter wouldn’t have touched something she considered so personal.

The night she shared with Ivar changed her, and everything around her. And maybe she wasn’t ready to accept how deeply connected she was to him and how deeply she cared. But she did. It was a precious moment that she would have never diminished but praised upon.

Angrboda moved quickly towards him and broke his words from piling up any further with an abrupt slap on the face.

She trained hard to contain similar situations where her emotions would take over. But it seemed impossible to bite her tongue or breathe through Ivar’s assumptions. “Shut your mouth. You’re just a boy if you think so little of me. And worse, if after everything and all the years we’ve known each other, you are so easily influenced. I never felt pity for you. I respect you, and my affection towards you is dictated by heart, not guilt.”

Ivar was quick to gaze back at her, moving his torso and head closer to her, ready for a fight. “I don’t believe you.”

“That is entirely on you-” Angrboda pointed a finger to Ivar's chest, giving him a push. “-and I wasn’t lying when we had sex. Everything I felt, everything you felt, was real to me. So, I will never regret it. But you can choose your own truth.”

Ivar just sat there silent.

Angrboda saw and felt his emotions tremble and crack. She felt his disappointment and pain pour out of his chest, surrounded by guilt, pride, and anger.

Even if she had all the answers she needed in front of her, and knew Ivar so well even without having to read him, she decided to ignore the knowledge of Ivar's immense fragility on some of his biggest triggers. For example, the idea that people loved him just for pity and not for worth. Because Angrboda could be proud too and she thought he crossed a line in a way that was not acceptable.

He chose to doubt her, to believe what other people said. He chose to become like any other.

And besides hurting her, he was hurting himself.

She would have been inclined to forgive and forget anything to Ivar, but not something like that.

She felt the need to hurt others and break things just to deal with the anger that the idea of someone she considered as highly of, and as close as Ivar, could just so easily doubt her.

If she had something between her hands, she would have definitely thrown it with the sole purpose to see an object shutter in a million pieces.

But she didn’t want to hurt Ivar. The slap she gave him felt more than enough.

So, with all her anger and pride, Angrboda took off.

She turned on her feet and quickly charged to reach the door, intentioned to put as much distance from her and Ivar as she could.

Tomorrow it wouldn’t have been a problem: as he said, there was the possibility they won’t see each other again. And for a second, it sounded like such a good thing.

Even if everything, inside of her, was revolting to the sole idea that could have been their last conversation. Their last moment.

Maybe her vision lied.

Maybe it was just the inebriating moment she shared with Ivar that got so much to her brain to make her fantasise too much.

Maybe it wasn’t even a vision.

And who is her to understand perfectly something like that? Could she even be sure of what she saw?

Maybe it was all wrong. Even the Seer, and her destiny. Maybe, she wasn’t bound to be by Ivar’s side.

Her heart trembled under pressure just by the idea she was now rejecting something she always believed to be her fate. And that took a more realistic shape in her mind after she had her vision, laying between his arms, and after she felt their darknesses melt and tie.

Even now, the shadows inside of her were frizzling and agitating, like arguing with her for her own emotions and thoughts.

Angrboda stopped.

All her thoughts and emotions went quiet.

And she held her breath for a second. “Maybe, you are the one who should stop feeling pity for himself.”

She didn’t look back and denied feeling his aura, even if it was impossible. She clearly felt Ivar’s heart breaking inside her own chest.

Angrboda stepped out, running away from him and her own feelings – deluding herself that she could actually do so if she quickly put enough distance between herself and the whole situation.

She slid through the crowded Hall, being already unsteady made it easy for the sudden cacophony of people, voices and emotions to overwhelm her.

She needed air.

She needed quiet.

And to be alone. From everyone.

She didn’t stop on her way, not even when Ubbe and Hvitserk’s auras caressed her with their sudden worries. Actually, she probably moved even quicker, praying to the Gods that the brothers wouldn’t have followed her.

Once outside the Great Hall, Angrboda quickly turned around the building, following its longer side until she found a safe spot to hide.

Angrboda flattened herself on a wooden panel between one of the mid alcoves of the structure, feeling nested between the wooden columns and shielded enough to let out a deep breath.

She pressed her forehead against the redwood, taking a long and deep breath in, trying to work on her breathing to calm down and gather her thoughts.

Losing control meant she became sole emotions… And sometimes that wasn’t the right thing.

Angrboda pushed her hands against the wood, trying to find peace in the quiet solitude that surrounded her. People and sounds felt so far away. It was blissful to breathe some fresh night air in.

But her frustration wasn’t so easy to tame, which was why Angrboda let it out, punching the wall she was leaning on, letting a grunt out.

Even if she wanted to suppress it all, she had to admit that a little spillage of emotion made her feel a bit better.

“Look. A birdy got lost.”

Her peace was suddenly broken by a deep, rude voice accompanied by a group of men laughing viciously.

Even their auras carried the fuzziness brought by drinking too much ale, so much so she could almost taste it in their unstable emotions. Worse, was that she felt their energies slimily slid across her skin, leaving her with a weird aftertaste of being cut by rusty metal. She suddenly felt threatened.

But the group of men surrounded her and moved closer.

“Let us see your face, pretty birdy.” The same one who spoke first spoke again, and Angrboda presumed he was also the one who dawned upon her and grabbed her figure by the shoulders giving her a vigorous and rude shake, before pulling her to turn.

He proudly showed Angrboda to the rest of the group breaking into another slimy laugh.

The longer his hands were on her, the more Angrboda felt her being shake and vibrate by the need to run.

She tried to shake off his hands and growled at him, showing her teeth off. It was probably just because the man's mind was polluted by the ale, that she managed to catch him off guard and slip away. But she didn’t go far.

Another of his mates was quicker and she was grabbed again. The man welcomed her with a laugh, and shook her, pulling her to turn her once again towards the group. He pulled her closer to his chest grabbing her by the hair, to which Angrboda answered with another growl. Then, he ensured she wouldn’t run again clutching rudely his heavy, dirty hand around her neck and squeezing.

Angrboda snarled firstly trying to look at him and then, at the others. “Let me go, pigs!”

“Gods! It’s Loki-Kissed! It’s the witch!”

Angrboda expected them to react like people generally did, with disgust and slight fear being that close to her. But not this time, not these men.

These men laughed.

Angrboda felt their evil intention sip through. She saw their thirst for pain and blood – hers. And she felt their eagerness into getting recognized and glorified for freeing their people of her.

She tried to shake off the hold of the faceless man that held her.

“She definitely has fire inside of her.”

“Be careful, it can burn you.”

Another one laughed.

It was four men in total, around her. They smelled of ale and sweat. Their dirty clothes and shabby image placed them into Kattegat working class – they were probably men who sailed with Ragnar Lothbrok when they were younger and would definitely sail with Bjorn Ironside to find either glory or death.

She wondered if they were guests of the Hall, for a second.

Thinking about the Hall, she immediately wondered if someone noticed her absence – she hated the idea of relying on someone else’s help. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure how high her possibilities could be.

Angrboda was armed but kept her dagger tucked away tied to her ankle, which seemed difficult enough to grab.

What about her abilities? Could she rely on them truly?

Angrboda thought of giving it a shot.

She quickly moved her head backwards, throwing a header right to the face of the man holding her. As soon as he lost a second of balance and focus, she swiftly slipped away from his hold, giving him a push.

Angrboda curled up on herself just to reach for her dagger, which she showed off. Her body tensed in a combat position. “I can show you how much I can burn.” Angrboda's eyes shone and flickered of darkness.

She was ready to fight.

“We should kill her.” The man that was holding her earlier breathed heavily those words, while another moved closer, attracting Angrboda attention.

The group of men moved around her, sending each other looks to decide how to attack her.

But Angrboda had the upper hand to feel their emotions – even if they were disgusting.

More than their thirst for violence was the slight arousal that developed in some of their auras, making her insides twist violently.

Angrboda quickly turned around, making sure she looked at all the men around her, keeping her dagger blade well ready to slash flesh.

Angrboda showed a sly smile, her eyes shined again and she fed off the shivers her black gaze gave to the men around her. “You think I am so easy to kill off? Then get closer, maybe I will send a few of you to Hel, she will feast on your unworthy hearts.”

“People are right, she is a monster. Look at her.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t just kill her. Maybe we should hurt her too.”

“Monster or not, she is still just a woman and we should do what men do. I like her.”

“You can have her.”

Angrboda showed her teeth once more, growling at them. She hated to be talked about like she was a piece of meat, especially when she stood in front of her.

But feeling their hesitation, adrenaline and fear filled her with determination and hope. And power. The more scared they would become, the more she felt her thirst grow. “If you touch me there will be consequences. You will regret the day you were born!”

Angrboda kept slowly moving into a circle, thinking she had control. Thinking those men wouldn’t have dared to actually hurt her.

“No one would avenge you, witch. Your spells will die with you.”

“My father is Floki the Boat-builder! He will skin you alive.”

She thought she had control for too long.

As soon as she gave her back to someone to threatening look at someone else, she would automatically become more vulnerable and those men didn’t take long to understand it.

She got tackled, this time by three men at once.

They all pushed her against the red-wood wall, rudely smacking her face against the panel.

The two on her sides held her arms up, and the one who stood on her right side grabbed her arm and firmly slammed it against the wood panel, so she would lose the hold on her dagger.

The man behind her back kicked her ankles, to push her legs apart.

It was then that Angrboda shook and tried to scream, but the man behind her back grabbed her, suffocating her voice with his heavy, callous hand.

The man pushed his face between her hair, inhaling her smell – and the sudden satisfaction that broke into his dirty aura made her retch.

If it had to end, she would have rathered die that feel that man free hand moving on her body and pulling her skirt.

Then a voice suddenly broke through the air. “What a shame.”

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majesticwren · 1 year

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Vikings request ragnarsson reaction to ivar dying instead of sigurd

Oh gods this is an extremely tough question but also a very good one, thanks anon 💕✨ Let's see, I am assuming we are following the canon timeline, so if they switched I am also assuming it is Sigurd who killed Ivar? Or Ivar just died? Before I dive into a cheap analysis, I only want to say that I do like Sigurd's character, I don't think he was flashed out quite enough in the series but I learned to give him a more defined personality in my headcanons so, I'm gonna answer based on this. And let's start from Sigurd himself. If he had been the one who killed Ivar, then I do imagine that he would feel extremely guilty for the rest of his life. Yes, they hated each other. And yes, they made each other life very difficult, with Sigurd always appearing so particularly prickly against his younger sibling. But in the end, if something so extreme happened by his own hand, I do think Sigurd would be desperate. He would never show his pain. He is too proud. So his pain would mutate, over time, in something like a self-destruction path or a similar internalisation and denial. But if Ivar just died not by his hand, I don't feel Sigurd would care too much. He would just take his death with a shrug. "Such is life." He would say, or "It was his fate." and I imagine he would even be jealous because Ivar had the chance to reach for Valhalla before him. Now, another who wouldn't care regardless would be Bjorn. I never pictured Bjorn as a very affectionate guy, may that be with women, family or brothers. The only exceptions may be his mother and Halfdan - MAYBE. So, he wouldn't care much. He too would just shrug it off, probably easily forget about it.

Ubbe and Hvitserk would care much more. I think both would be broken by pain. Ubbe would take it better, but he would probably still try to understand what happened and, in case of a wrong death, he would look for vengeance or some form of justice. (In case Ivar died by Sigurd's hand, probably he wouldn't be too harsh though). Hvitserk would just be devastated. I am talking the whole spiralling on the edge, like he did in S6a. He would look for justice period. (In case Ivar died because of Sigurd, he would never forgive his brother, I don't think.) Ubbe would eventually recover, but I don't think Hvitserk would ever stop missing Ivar. It is also the reason why I imagine he would carry a token that reminds him of his brother for the rest of his life and he would probably still look for his advice, talking to the wind or to the dark corners of his room. (I know, this is my extremely personal opinion because I adore Hvitserk and Ivar and I consider them the opposite face of the same coin.) I have this sweet image in my head of them cheering to the Gods and to Ivar, honouring his place in Valhalla and knowing they would have seen each other again, eventually.

#vikings #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar vikings #hvitserk rangarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk vikings #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #bjorn lothbrok #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn ironside #bjorn vikings #my asks

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majesticwren · 1 year

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The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602.It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 4.5k. Trigger Warnings: Mention of Sex, Mention of Contraceptive Methods, Mention of Death, Uncontrollable Anger and Possessiveness, Angrboda is Unhinged. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 13 - Metamorphose.

The opening on the beach was filled with chattering and laughter.

After her arrival, Angrboda struggled to warm up to her new situation in her old clothes and being. But it didn’t take long before the babbling with her mother made everything look and feel just normal.

Nothing changed and nothing will do. Even if everything was changing.

There was solace and balance in that thought. And even if it was a temporary feeling, it was more than enough. It was something Angrboda needed to feel, even for a little bit.

While the two dived into a cheerful and light girl-type conversation, based mostly on the night Angrboda spent and chatting of the sort, she watched Helga prepare the brew to avoid pregnancies, paying particular attention to everything her skilled mother had to teach her on the matter.

Her mother showed her some specific dried out herbs and flowers, and explained in detail how they are supposed to look and where to find them. Helga taught her the different properties of different herbs, with a degree of toxicity, risks and consequences. Finally, how to properly cook them to make an effective infusion.

Her mother told her it was a practice passed on between generations throughout time. Helga learned from her mother, who before learned from another woman in her family. And so, one day, Angrboda could teach it to her daughters. So long and so forth, a powerful connection and knowledge branching between women of different times. They might be forgotten in identity, but their teachings would never be lost.

It wasn’t so common, between women, to use such techniques. Most of the time, young and old it didn’t matter, would be scared or sceptic about similar practices. Especially because it needed someone who had vast botanical knowledge, empathy and respect towards a woman's choice. Too many times people believed wrongfully that having those traits meant being a witch.

As for many things in life, scepticism brought people to ignorance.

Being a woman, and being biologically fertile, and having intercourse with men from time to time, meant for Angrboda that having such knowledge would be possibly one of the most useful pieces of information she could ever learn.

Especially if her plan in life wasn’t the one of being just a wife and a mother. She was Viking, and she was a warrior.

Even if it did hurt like Hel and back when Loki told her he ripped from her the possibility of having a child from Hvitserk - Gods, not even so long ago - It still wasn’t in her plans to become a mother.

“So-” Helga stirred the mixture in the pot but had a cheeky smile crossing her lips. The air filled with the earthy smell of the infusion. “- Ivar is a capable lover.”

“He is a good learner. I like his eagerness.”

“I bet!” Helga raised her brown eyes giving her a good look and for a moment didn’t say anything. Letting Angrboda’s words just sink in between them.

“If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I would have struggled to believe he behaved how you described.”

“Ivar is an underestimated being. People never believe how strong he can be, or how sensitive. They decide to see just one reality. But he is so much more than what people think. I am honoured to be as close as I am to such a man.”

“Well, my daughter – I think you both did the right thing, then. Who knows, another woman might not have been the right one for someone like him.”

Angrboda suddenly froze, her smile disappeared just by the idea another woman could touch him as she did.

She sighed, looking away, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable shiver spread under her skin.

Sooner or later, the events would play their course and things would have changed.

She was about to leave with Bjorn’s fleet to go discover unthinkable places where no one, between their people, had ever seen. She didn’t know how long she would have stayed away, probably months if not years.

Separated from her life in Kattegat. Separated from Ivar.

Many things could change.

Maybe, when she would be back and finally, whatever she now felt would have quietened down. But for now, the idea Ivar could give to another woman what he gave to her, or feel for another what was hers, was enough to fire her blood up and make her hands vibrate under the need to break something.

It was the same reaction she always had at the idea Hvitserk one day would have loved another woman.

It was pure jealousy and possession over feelings and people she wasn’t allowed to feel that way.

“You look uneasy. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“I am ok mother, don’t worry.”

Helga answered to her just shaking her head and shoulders, letting her have a bit of space.

But Angrboda really didn’t need to have space to think. She actually needed to fill her mind with chatter and words that could be a distraction.

So, she cleared her voice. “Earlier you said something about father.”

“I said many things about your father.”

“Yes – yes, you did.” Angrboda couldn’t hide the smile that grew on her lips and the sudden awkward blushing that bubbled under her cheeks, trying her best not to think about the stories her mother shared – maybe even in too much detail – about her affection with Floki. “What I mean is, you said he was going after the wrong man. I – what did you mean?!”

“Oh! That.” Helga took a long pause, paying attention to the brew she was stirring – her expression changed from distracted to amused to concerned, all in a matter of a few seconds. “We knew something had happened to you last night. Or, actually. Your father knew.”

“He knew-” Angrboda choked, taking a moment to think about what Helga could mean – but a moment was enough to make her realise exactly what happened.

She went white as snow, while all the blood in her face seemed to drain away. Suddenly, she didn’t feel very well. Every time she felt an incredibly strong emotion, Floki would sense it as well. And vice versa.

Angrboda was connected to Helga too, that way, but her mother wasn't an empath like her or Floki.

The idea that her father literally felt her having sex made a shiver cross her spine making her stomach twist violently.

“Mother, what do you mean he knew?!”

“Well, I am not entirely sure darling. He was suddenly startled-”

“I mean how much does he know? I know sometimes if I’m terribly scared he feels scared too.”

Helga giggled, shaking her head. “No. He didn’t feel that way. But he did feel that moment of connection you were talking about earlier. That’s why we thought it could be Hvitserk.”

“So he went looking for him?”

“I tried to stop him! I said you would have shown up and you would have explained to us if you felt like doing so. Or not. And that would have been ok. You know, like smelling a storm in the air and waiting for it. But your father decided to run right towards it.”

Angrboda huffed, pushing her hands to her face trying to suffocate her desire to scream.

Hvitserk didn’t need to endure Floki being a protective father as well.

Especially when it wasn’t about him.

Part of her wished it could have been.

And part of her, the one still purring curled around Ivar’s dark energy, resented her for thinking such a thing.

“Then father’s decision might as well be another thing I will have to be taken accountable for.”

“I am sure it will be ok. Your father's pride might be wounded when he comes back, though, when he will realise he made a mistake if he doesn’t already know.”

Angrboda sighed keeping her eyes away from her mother’s image. She felt particularly uneasy in her own skin, like a snake needing to change its own.

But now it was also obvious the embarrassment and annoyance she felt. Thinking how her father just acted, rushing into a decision that he thought right and that turned out to be stupid.

Angrboda had to admit that maybe, just maybe, it was in Floki’s rights to be protective and worried. It was true, it had been a while since she just closed up in silence not sharing with him her troubles.

And she wondered what did he say to Hvitserk. And what was said to him? Did Hvitserk act with pride or honour? Did he lie or did he tell the truth? And if so, did Floki storm to Ivar as well?

She needed to stop making up scenarios in her own mind. Because she knew how defensive Ivar could get when met with a confrontational tone or every time he felt threatened.

It was as if the Gods decided to trick her. As soon as her father became part of the conversation between her and Helga and occupied her mind with all those kerfuffles of thoughts, his aura filled the entire beach corner.

The placid waters of the fjord seemed to react to it, raising against the hulks of half-built ships that crowded that corner of the world.

Angrboda held her breath, curling on her own figure not sure what to expect. Would he be angry? Or calm? Disappointed? The emotions that spiked around like bolts of energy in his aura seemed to be incredibly quick and confused, shifting into waves of different nature. But besides the erratic nature of his emotions, Floki seemed to be pervaded majorly by calm and amusement. Which seemed such a weird combination, since he was just back from a trip to Kattegat to have a confrontation with the man he thought she had sex with. Maybe discovering it was actually someone else.

Just thinking about it made her want to dig a hole deep enough to get buried into, and hide - and disappear.

“Father is back.” Announced Angrboda raising her green eyes to Helga’s. In her irises, there was the silent question of someone looking for an ally. She knew Helga would have been in her corner if it needed to be.

But Angrboda didn't hide or tried to disappear in the background as she wished she could do.

She stepped up, deciding to face whatever thing Floki decided to show. She walked out of the tent onto the beach covered in masts and sails and waited for him to appear.

When he finally did, her father's expression surprised her. His eyes seemed to reflect that weird superficial calm he had, even if his aura kept spiking like a thunderstorm. He even showed a smile. It was a genuinely amused and warm smile that she definitely didn’t expect to see, and it did instil new calm in her being.

Floki walked in big but slow strides, taking his time. When their eyes crossed, he greeted her with a nod and that smile of his just grew. “You should have said it was Ivar!”

Angrboda just stood there frowning. Just because Floki showed a completely unexpected reaction on the good side of things, it didn’t mean it was any easier. “Why? What difference does it make?”

“What difference? Helga! Do you hear your daughter?”

“I hear her, my dear husband. But I am wondering the same as her.” Helga slowly walked to her side, tipping her head to the side greeting Floki with a look.

He giggled firstly at her, and then looked back at Angrboda, stopping right in front of her. “You wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to say.”

“No. Explain it to me, father-” Angrboda crossed her arms to her chest, raising her chin and looking at Floki straight in the eye. Suddenly, she was the one looking for confrontation. “I would have told you, by the way. If you just gave me the time. Instead, you just… What? What did you do? Had a jolly walk to Kattegat and probably threatened the wrong man?”

“You know me well, daughter. But I have to say Hvitserk is a more mature man than I expected.”

“He is.” Angrboda nodded with conviction – ready to defend Hvitserk’s honour. Even if she was the one responsible for breaking it, or walking all over his heart – or her own.

Floki smile didn’t disappear. “He seemed eager to defend your honour – and his brother’s. It did surprise me.”

“I know how Hvitserk is worth, father.”

“Ah, I like him a little bit more now.”

“So, he lied to you. He did what? Took responsibility?”

“No. I mean, yes. He didn’t lie nor said the truth – he just took my words and didn’t shit himself like a weak man would do. He protected you and Ivar instead.”

Angrboda didn’t answer she just lifted her chin in a tiny proud nod.

Her heart lost a beat to that knowledge. She knew how bright Hvitserk’s light could shine. She knew how pure and candid his heart was – not naïve, or unable to lie, just set towards doing the right thing.

The idea that, even after everything, he still didn’t deeply hate her made her want to crumble.

And the fact that he protected Ivar as well just gave Hvitserk even more honour.

“Do you want to know why?” Her father’s voice danced in the air, with those excited high pitches he usually had. It made his entire conversation sound musical, in a way.

“I know why.” She didn’t have to guess, in fact. It was Hvitserk’s loyalty. And it was his love that brought him to protect someone else’s secret.

Angrboda’s eyes shined brighter for a moment. But she had to bite her tongue to distract herself from going on thinking about it. And how much she felt for Hvitserk.

Floki just looked at her for a long moment. She knew he was rummaging into her soul, taking all the emotions she just felt. It looked like they were pieces to a puzzle for him. She could almost see the thoughts form into his mind, piecing her emotions together.

“Well? Are you going to explain why Ivar makes any difference?”

“Because he is Ivar! Do I even have to explain?” Floki’s sudden spike of pride and excitement about that particular topic made Angrboda’s shiver.

She felt an awkward feeling sliding and crawling under her skin, giving her goosebumps. “Is this it? You love Ivar so dearly that your consideration of him it’s still so high, even in this situation? So, Ivar doesn’t deserve your threats because he touched your dear daughter?”

Angrboda's sudden reaction of anger and venomous words was still met with a giggle and a bright smile, while her father was just amused by her reaction. He wasn’t taking the piss but he was studying her.

“No. He doesn’t deserve my threats.”

“Good. Because anyway it was nothing, father. Just sex. He wouldn’t have deserved your threats anyway.”

Why was she suddenly so angry?!

The darkness inside of her was stretching and growing, surrounding her being and absorbing every part of her, filling her irises with a darker light. She could not control it. Much like any other time before when she gave in to rage.

Floki just stood there, looking at her. “You think what you felt was nothing?”

“It was.”

“You think what you feel is nothing?”

“It’s just temporary, it will pass.”

“Oh, yeah? So, you think what Ivar felt was nothing.”

Angrboda didn’t answer to those words but with a growl.

Ivar’s feelings were hers.

She had no control. Her anger spiralled, her darkness fed into it, more powerful than ever before, darker and denser. And her eyes were quick to transform and shaded into darker and darker shades of green – becoming closer to black.

Floki just stood there, looking at his daughter from his height. He wasn’t scared or angry. He was calm and still amused. He was absorbing everything she was giving out, willing to feel more, to explore more. She didn’t have enough control to shield what she was feeling.

“Angrboda-” Helga's soft voice reached for her ear, while her mother tried to call her back. But she didn’t react. She moved closer to Floki, not paying attention to their height difference or the respect she is bound to have for her father. “What do you know about Ivar’s feelings?”

Angrboda even showed her teeth, snarling those words. She narrowed her eyes, looking at her father. There wasn’t something specific she was angry at. Anything he would say made her feelings or memories for both Hvitserk and Ivar threatened.

Floki moved his eyes to Helga and exchanged a nod with her, signalling to his wife to move away. Angrboda didn’t even realise that her mother stepped away, finding some distance from her. She was too focused on Floki, to feel the sudden worry that broke into the woman.

Then, Floki looked back at Angrboda. “No. What do you know about his feelings? I know about them since he had them. You know how long that was?!”

Angrboda snarled once again – but didn’t say anything.

Whatever information on Ivar’s feelings would have just fed into her, making her situation even worse. “It doesn’t matter – it will pass too.”

Floki nodded to her words, looking so impressed by her being stubborn more than to her reaction. He wasn’t surprised as much by her reaction, but by her words. “Hm. It will just pass. Nothing happened.”

“Yes.”

Floki smiled with a touch of arrogance in his expression, it was the smile someone who knew better, and was winning an argument, would have.

He didn’t do much. He just raised his hand, to which she didn’t pay attention before, just now realising he was holding something. A piece of white sort of material.

Angrboda could not see it very well, yet she recognized it immediately.

“So, you don’t mind burning this, then.”

And her eyes went black. “Father, give it to me.”

She didn’t even know how he found it or knew about it. But then again, Floki was more powerful than her. She was following his steps in her divination gift, but her senses weren't as strong as Floki’s. So, there could be infinite ways he knew about the dress.

On the other hand, he did go after the wrong person. So even his sight wasn’t perfect.

But of course, she wasn’t in the right state of mind to think straight or question anything.

Angrboda raised her hand demanding to have back what was hers. Yet, Floki moved quickly, hiding the dress behind his back. “Why do you want it?”

“Because it’s mine.”

“Why? Do you care about it and who gave it to you?”

“No.” She spoke between gritted teeth, pushing out words that were clearly crushing with her actions and violent reaction on the matter.

Floki smiled once more. “Then I will burn it.”

“Do it and you will regret it.”

Floki didn’t say a word, he just opened wider his eyes and made a pout in pure gloating astonishment. Her threat didn’t induce any fear in him, but a wave of pride hit her.

He smiled, with a spike of determination colouring his aura.

Floki leaned closer to her. The fact that his move made her feel smaller filled Angrboda up with such roaring fire.

“I wouldn’t threaten Ivar because he is more worthy to have you than Hvitserk is.”

The Angrboda able to weigh words and think clearly, was gone. She wasn’t Flokisdóttir, she wasn’t standing in front of her father and next to her mother. The woman standing there was pure emotion and fire.

Angrboda’s eyes gleaned and twisted, the light shone through them like the eyes of a predator would do. Her blood demanded violence, her muscles were tense and ready for a fight.

The honour of the man she loved was put at stake. The craving to protect Hvitserk mixed with the rage she just felt about her situation with Ivar.

Angrboda wanted to speak. She wanted to say she was perfectly able to decide herself who was worth enough and pick whomever she wanted without having to have her father's permission.

But words didn’t come out. Just a growl.

Then Floki nodded towards her, again acting in a way she couldn’t predict. His smile didn’t disappear and his aura remained overwhelmed with calm and pride. And respect?

For a moment, Angrboda thought she must have been so mad to not have her senses right.

All she needed was a cohesive thought, in the time span of a second, to regain sudden grip over her thoughts, emotions, facial expression and senses.

Angrboda gasped, taking a step back.

She brought a hand to her chest, pushing it against it as if she wanted to push inwards whatever emotions just bubbled up.

She regained control over herself in the blink of an eye. Her sudden mood swing made her head spin violently.

Her facial expression changed from scarily livid to concerned – and her eyes switched back to the normal, natural colour of her irises. “I – I am sorry, father. I –”

“It’s ok. It’s all right.” Floki embraced her, stepping next to her and sliding an arm around her body. He pulled her closer, and Helga followed right after, taking her face between her hands, ever so softly to make her look at her.

Helga offered her a smile and then pulled her closer to herself, pushing her forehead against Angrboda’s. Her mother inhaled a deep breath closing her eyes, and Angrboda did the same, absorbing part of the calming energy Helga seemed to be pushing out to her.

Then, Helga looked at Floki. She didn't say a word. She was worried. Not scared, but definitely worried.

As Angrboda herself was. “I cannot control it. It’s not the first time I've lost control. I–”

“You do not have to explain. I know. I wanted to see it.”

“You know?”

“Yes. I do. Your powers are growing and changing, my daughter. I feel them. I needed to see what is hiding inside of you.”

“And what is it?”

“Something that will become very useful to you when you will be able to control it. One day you will become Angrboda The Deathbringer, because of it – but you need to channel yourself.”

“Did you see it?”

Floki nodded solemnly, speaking words of a prophecy she didn’t know the nature or meaning of.

“We can help you.” Floki’s voice broke in a giggle that filled Angrboda with such warmth, that shook away the fearful shivers she had.

She nodded, wishing to understand more – to know more.

What was she becoming?

“On the other matter.” Floki moved. He stood in front of her and scooped her scarred cheek into his hand, making Angrboda raise her chin and look at him in the eye.

Helga stood next to her, with a hand placed on her shoulder, but her mother’s eyes were on her husband and her heartbeat with such devotion, a feeling that brightened through her energy. “I do care who you chose to have by your side. But I will never judge so harshly. You are a free woman.”

“Then why-”

“Because I wasn’t sure what you were going through lately. I kept to myself – but I felt your sorrows. I knew you were, and you are, close to Hvitserk, I know what you feel for him. And I knew he wronged you. So, I assumed. And I was wrong. But I still had to prove a specific point to the boy.”

“Which was?”

“It’s between me and him. Hvitserk knows. I have to say, though, that I would lie if I said I do not support your closeness to Ivar.”

“There’s nothing to support, father.”

“The reaction you just had was not nothing, child. You can lie to yourself, Angrboda. But do not lie to me. I can see through you.”

“I am not lying. It’s how things are.”

“Yes? So why do I see Ivar’s shadow inside of you? I can feel what he feels – because you do, even if you’re so far apart.”

Angrboda sighed and raised her eyes to the sky, then she moved, escaping her father’s hold. She exchanged a look with Helga and then took a deep sigh, turning over to her father. She pulled her hand out. “Can I have my dress, please?”

Floki this time complied and gave her what was hers. “It’s a nice dress. He put a lot of thought into it.”

“He probably just commissioned it.”

“Yes – Ivar is not a skilled seamstress I imagine.” Floki giggled at his own words, but there was truth in what he wanted to say.

Which Angrboda just decided to ignore, because that was her way to be.

Angrboda didn’t touch the dress for a long time. She even tried to forget about it and how it made her feel.

As soon as her fingers ran through its material, she felt the energy the dress brought with it – full of dense passion. It felt like Ivar, it felt like the side of him he never showed to anyone. And it felt like dark smoke.

“I know of the Ancient One has told you.”

Angrboda froze on the spot, and slowly raised her eyes to Floki. She just stood there and the breath she inhaled sounded as noisy as ice shattering. “You know?”

“Yes.”

Angrboda’s heart crushed under the pressure of knowing her own father now knew what the Seer has told her, what Loki has shown her.

Those weren’t omens she wanted to share, especially with her parents who didn’t need to know the despair their destiny was signed with – and changed by the will of the Trickster.

Angrboda didn’t have any intention of explaining to Helga what Floki meant, even if her confusion and curiousness were more than clear, tingling in the air.

It was more than enough that her father knew. Such a piece of news would have broken her mother.

Floki’s aura suddenly filled with the bitter sorrow the knowledge he had brought – and there was just one thing Angrboda felt to do. She moved and gave a hug to her father, which was welcomed with affection.

He squeezed Angrboda between his arms, closing his figure around her and leaned closer to her ear. “You’re not a being of this world, my daughter. I love you.”

Angrboda found a moment of peace, between her father arms. Everything that was eating her alive, everything that felt out of place just disappeared.

“I won’t be able to shield you from the pain you will have to endure. But you’re not alone – and I can give some of the tools you might need to see and feel more clearly.”

“I just wished I knew what to do. What is expected of me? Everything people say sounds so heavy and so hollow.”

“I cannot tell you what to do. But I can help you become stronger.”

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majesticwren · 1 year

Text

The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 12k. Trigger Warnings: mention of slavery, scheming, mention of sex, mention of contraceptive methods, !Sigurd is his own Trigger Warning! Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

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Chapter 12 - Wicked Game.

Margrethe crossed the market square. She was well-intentioned in walking all the way through it and up Kattegat main road, where foreigner salesmen were busy selling everything from different places all around the known World.

After her chores were done that morning, the Queen trusted her with some coins to go and buy supplies for the Hall. Of course, she was more than eager to take that responsibility and do her best. Margrethe thought it was the best way to quickly learn what she would have to do, one day, when she would be Queen.

It was also a great way to understand Kattegat.

Her eyes quickly filled up with the wonders of all the different kinds of food, animals, materials and people, and her nose would pleasantly hitch with the pungent smell of some spices or dried plants and meats. She wondered how those mysterious foods from far away lands would taste. But she was very quick to console herself with the thought that one day, she would be Queen and able to taste everything

She walked slowly, enjoying the lively buzz of Kattegat that morning and the cacophony all around her. Those would be, one day, her people.

More than anything, she enjoyed having time to feel free. Even if her simple shaped, bland colour, dirty clothes, and her braided hair would clearly highlight her social position. At least in her mind she could pretend what she wanted.

But Margrethe wasn’t just enjoying the morning air and a pleasant walk away from her usual duties at the Hall.

Oh, no. She had specific intentions. In fact, she planned that outing specifically.

Her eyes were not just filled with all the wonders around her. They were also looking for a few specific people.

She was fairly new to Kattegat. Yet, she managed to get well introduced into the slaves’ community of the city. Especially helped by her position at the Hall.

And she just needed to find someone she knew.

"Agnes!" As the fates were listening to her, Margrethe recognized the familiar face of a slave girl working for the well-renowned house of a merchant. She greeted the girl with a smile, approaching her.

"Margrethe. What a pleasure." Agnes was not a pretty girl. Not as pretty as her anyway. And not as young.

But she had other wits to her character and her master still liked her very much, leaving the slave with enough freedom to roam Kattegat as pleased her.

It was dangerous to trust slaves - but some people still did it, possibly because it was impossible to understand for a free man or woman what it meant to bear invisible chains for a lifetime.

Margrethe quickly reached Agnes, exchanging a meaningful look with her. And she knew exactly what that meant.

More importantly than its wonders, the market was a source of information.

Margrethe was new to the scene and it wasn't so common that she would have the chance to go to the market. But she already knew it was the way to find and spread information quickly.

She hated being a slave, but her role could be useful sometimes, at least for now. Slaves were invisible and could gather plenty of secrets and knowledge over the private life of people. A slave of the Great Hall would always be known for the more valuable knowledge they could have.

On a regular basis, a slave was supposed to be loyal to their master. Which was the reason why not many would so easily reveal the secrets of their houses. But with the right compensation, everyone would untie their tongues.

It was easy for her to find that business. And because of her position, it was guaranteed that if she had something to say, then it would be good.

So, a stroll around the marketplace wasn't just a moment of freedom she would enjoy. It was useful.

And Margrethe knew exactly where to find, or better, where to sell information.

Agnes was one of those instances.

"So, any interesting news?"

"I might have something." Margrethe looked at the other girl leaving behind a pregnant pause.

Agnes nodded to her words, her attention clearly already hooked. Margrethe didn’t need anything better, she hoped to receive exactly that reaction.

She nodded, with a decisive smile curling her lips.

Generally, the trade of secrets between the slaves had a few rules. More or less, in the slave community, it was common doing to trust each other even without being acquainted. In fact, the sources would generally be protected.

It was also common to think that whatever secret one ear was receiving, then it would be true – or almost entirely true.

The fewer people knew about the information, the newest this was, the more valuable it had.

And finally: everything had a price. And in a community of people without the luxury of even being free, less than poor, sometimes less than animals, a secret could save one’s life. Or give leverage. Or just be the means to have possession over an object of more or less value and more or less usability.

It was generally a dirty and blind trade. It was a gamble.

There was no way she could know what Agnes, or any receiver, had to offer and what they were in possession. It could have been other secrets, information, tips, or objects. And they wouldn't know how valuable the information could be until heard. Yet, it was a game worth playing.

Margrethe smiled at Agnes, her features bent under such a sweet expression, still aimed to no good.

She was like a beautiful, poisonous flower.

“Well?”

“I bet you noticed there has been some kind of... Problem, between the Sons of Ragnar, recently.”

Agnes scoffed a laugh, nodding. “Oh, yes. I mean, there's always friction between them, isn't it?”

“Yes. But, I'm sure everyone in Kattegat had a chance to see Hvitserk's face in the past few days.”

Margrethe was eager, full of pride, even reckless. She didn't lower her eyes or her voice - her words didn't bring the honour she was bound to carry. She was already a step ahead, in her fantasies. Too comfortable and confident she would have landed on her feet whatsoever to bother about lowering her voice.

She was sure no one was listening in, anyway. But the point wasn't that. The point was showing respect.

Agnes, instead, showed the right kind of reaction, bowing slightly and getting closer to Margrethe so she was free to answer with whispers. “I have heard voices about it. I've heard it was Ubbe the one who-”

“Those rumours are incorrect.” Margrethe smiled, lifting her chin proudly, just because she knew the truth.

Holding such information, or anything really, put her in an advantageous position, making her feel powerful. It was the same feeling she felt when she saw Angrboda sneak into Hvitserk's room and knew that getting close to him would have angered the other woman.

And she did, acting following her own agenda.

She found and took a chance to get close to Hvitserk. It wasn’t such a sacrifice, in all honesty. But she did it mainly to juggle others to her own will, Hvitserk included.

And it apparently worked. Hvitserk didn’t have to do much, but Angrboda fell right into her trap like a fool. And then showed once more how much she cared for Hvitserk that same evening at the Hall. Of course, only after confirming her anger was great. She caved a Son of Ragnar's face in, after all.

Incredible how easy it was to find someone's weak spots.

Now, Margrethe knew more about how some situations worked between the Brothers and the girl specifically.

Firstly, to them, she was such an equal to accept what she dared to do to Hvitserk with no consequences. Even Sigurd, who seemed to be the one brother who couldn’t stand her the most, still accepted her move. Secondly, Ubbe was ready to take the fall for her.

It was weird, she was part of their group, yet she wasn’t treated like a little sister or just a woman. But like one of them in every possible way.

Margrethe was still intentioned in following her plans and everyone would know who she was one day. With or without the witch's support.

She knew she had great chances to lure one of the brothers to choose her. But first, she had to eliminate her competition.

Which at that specific moment was Angrboda.

All the women of Kattegat would braid their hair following the designs the Queen would choose. But all the girls' hair would mimic Angrboda's. Even stepping outside the Hall was a constant reminder of what she had to do.

Besides, of course, the barely inconvenient fact that she was dangerously close with all the Sons of Ragnar, clearly able to manipulate them between her fingers at will.

“Are you going to tell me what really happened?” Agnes seemed eager to receive the information. Margrethe saw her hand move to her pocket, reaching for something but she quickly stopped her, shaking her head. “No. No need.”

No information came for free, ever.

Yet, Margrethe wasn’t entirely interested in obtaining payment. Her secrets were valuable but what she most needed was that her word would travel fast.

She needed the gossip to spread. Letting others act upon their own decision caused by rumours.

Agnes gave her such a puzzled look, frowning. Because automatically she thought that then the information was of no value if it costed nothing.

Even slaves between them generally could not afford to be helpful, let alone generous.

But Margrethe knew what she had to say was important and she thought Agnes could make her mind up about it after. And she wanted to be generous, now.

She also had many secrets to share – and knew it was difficult Agnes could afford them all.

While Margrethe first priority was to get the word flowing.

“I suppose you know of Angrboda.”

“Loki-Kissed.” Agnes gasped, and then tilted her head forward as if she was bowing once again.

Margrethe raised her eyes to the sky and shook her head, huffing. People called Angrboda many ways, and everyone seemed to have an opinion. But Margrethe thought she was just a girl.

She saw her anger develop, she felt it crawl on her own skin. But she chose to ignore it – she refused to be scared of such a little girl.

“It was her who hurt Hvitserk that much.”

“Was it? Impossible. Hvitserk is a warrior, a Son of Ragnar!”

“Yes, he is. And she still did what she did. Unbelievable!”

“Speak your words quietly, Margrethe. Everyone knows it brings such bad luck to speak ill of Angrboda Loki-Kissed.”

“Superstition doesn’t make what I tell you less true.”

Agnes just nodded to Margrethe words and didn’t dare to say anything else. She kept her brown eyes pointed to the ground and chose to remain quiet for a while.

Margrethe felt the deep need to give her a firm shake and push some sense into her, thinking how stupid could it be to think that speaking of someone has will over someone’s luck?

Angrboda fame mainly arrived from the value of her name and not because of her own. And from the greatness of her father, whom everyone knew, apparently.

Margrethe smiled to herself once more, thinking that once she was done with spreading rumours, then she could take some time to instigate doubt in the Brothers who would listen.

“But, why? Is there a reason?”

“Oh, there might be, yes. It generally wouldn’t come cheap. But I am generous today. And I have other things to share so-” Margrethe just smiled at the other girl, who was now hooked on what secrets she had to share. Agnes clearly established that whatever she had to say had value. “In return, I just want you to spread these secrets.”

Agnes nodded vigorously, and Margrethe didn’t doubt she would in fact do as she asked.

So, she took a deep breath and nodded, pretending she had to convince herself to say more. “Hvitserk Ragnarsson and Angrboda are apparently really, really close. And he did something that angered her.”

She saw the exact moment her secret left her lips and slid into Agnes’ ears, becoming a thought.

“What did he do?”

“He apparently went with another woman.”

“Oh- Close. That close? You mean they were a couple?”

“I am not sure about the matter. It seems to be a complicated situation even around the Hall. But they are close, yes.”

“Margrethe, are you sure about your words? This is very, very interesting.”

“Yes. I am sure.”

“Who’s the other woman?”

“Of that, I don’t know.” She didn’t dare to mix her own honour in the gossip. Maybe one day it would have come out, as things do. But she didn’t care about it now. Now it wasn’t the moment to put herself in a position of disadvantage.

Margrethe’s lips curled in another smirk, thinking her next piece of information was possibly her most valuable one so far. She wasn’t done and she wanted to place even more doubt between the people about Angrboda’s person.

“I have got more. And believe me, what I have, you don’t want to miss. This piece of information is the most valuable I have.”

Agnes widened her eyes, clearly thirsty for information, which just went straight into feeding Margrethe intentions.

“For this, I want payment. I’ve been good with you, so far.”

Agnes hesitated just a second, clearly thinking about how much could be worth. Margrethe saw her eyes distancing themselves from the world, but waited patiently for her answer, knowing if it wasn’t Agnes, she could have easily found someone else to share her secrets with.

But Margrethe knew she had to act quickly and use her chance wisely. No news was good or profitable if stale.

Agnes finally sighed and then nodded, reaching in her dress pocket. She showed Margrethe an almost completely empty tiny glass bottle, but as little as it seemed, the amount of its content was precious, even if she didn’t know what it was.

“It’s a fine lavender oil. My mistress uses it on her skin.”

Margrethe smiled, the most valuable part of the oil was the glass bottle. She didn’t even have to think about it and just took it off Agnes’ hands, nodding. “It looks like the Loki-Kissed is very close to another Brother too.” Margrethe paused, looking intensely at Agnes. She wanted to see the other hang off her own words. “Ivar the Boneless.”

Agnes welcomed her words with a smile, shaking her head. “Everyone knows that. They grew together. He was raised and trained by her father, Floki the Boat-Builder. They are like brother and sister.”

Margrethe didn’t know that, but she didn’t need that knowledge to know they were close.

Angrboda was protective of him – as it was stated the night she travelled over to mend to one of Ivar’s sicknesses. And Ivar was with her. Just a blind wouldn’t have noticed how his eyes always followed her around.

So, in the beginning, she just nodded. But then she shot the other servant a look, tipping her head to the side. “Does brother and sister share a bed then?”

“What are you saying?”

“Apparently, arrangements were made to have them meet in a cabin on the coast, under the agreement of spending a night together.”

Agnes gasped, raising a hand to her chest. Her eyes widened. But a second after she lowered her eyes to the ground.

“Loki-Kissed and Boneless. This is- Confusing. Didn’t you just say she is particularly close to Hvitserk?”

“Ah, but here is the thing. Apparently, she is thirsty for power. And she might be close to all of them that way, for what we know. Manipulating the Sons of Ragnar.” Margrethe showed a serious face, even if she wanted to grin.

She knew the rumours about Angrboda. And she knew people were either scared or straight didn’t like her. But how much would they accept her being around the Brothers if everyone thought she was actually, concretely manipulating them?

The people would have followed the Sons of Ragnar to the edge of the World. But surely not Angrboda.

Angrboda left the cabin early that morning.

Ivar and her got awakened by the bright and truthful light of the sunrise.

Untying the tight hug they slept in, they also loosened whatever deep bond united them that night. They needed to accept the consequences of their decision. Because reality was already expecting them in the outside world.

The passion and intimacy that united them the night before left space to awkwardness and silence. It felt cold. And it felt colder and colder the more Angrboda thought about, or remembered, how hot was the fire that burned them both just a few hours before.

It was easy to imagine that the bigger distance grew between Angrboda and Ivar, and the more time would accumulate between what happened last night and now, the easier it would be to accept it and just continue with one’s life.

That was supposed to be how things worked. And how they should have been working according to their innocent agreement.

That's what Angrboda expected.

She really wanted to think that way about it and feel it happen around her. It was just one night in which their destinies and bodies crossed, nothing more, nothing less. Everything would have been fine. Becoming easier to not think about, at least.

Not to forget. Never to forget. She wouldn’t have taken that path if her decision was to regret her actions. She didn’t regret anything.

Maybe just hurting Hvitserk, of that she was quite sorry. But at the same time part of her just lazed in the idea that it was more than worth it. Just to reach what she imagined to be her goal to finally break whatever bond was left with Hvitserk.

It would have been nice if things were as easy as she expected them to be.

But of course, they weren't.

The fairies chanted their songs, carried by the wind, in an echo throughout entire valleys and forests, carrying a tangle of Ivar and Angrboda's names. As a reminder that followed her the entire way home.

Worse than anything it wasn’t just the fact that Angrboda could still clearly feel Ivar hands on her skin, or the warmth of his body radiating through hers, or him crawling upon her. Or the sound of his voice in her head.

The worst thing was that she slowly started to realize it was real, more than real, especially with the more distance she would put between herself and Ivar. That bond between them, that moment when she felt their darkness mix and connect becoming one, that was definitely more than real. And it followed her.

She hoped time and distance would quiet things down. Instead, Ivar was with her.

She really hoped she felt what she felt just because of the energy of sex.

Sex was always considered one of the most powerful binding energies between worlds. It was like a sacred ritual, and it could be used as such. In fact, many times it was by witches or rituals of their people. People would easily find their way closer to their animal roots and spirits, during such happenings.

Angrboda wanted to think about it that way. She needed to cling to the idea that it was just the resonance of a powerful moment. So it wouldn’t give their decision such a binding, unavoidable weight.

But it wasn’t.

It definitely wasn’t just a powerful moment.

She was wrong.

Knowing it was easy.

She felt Ivar’s heartbeat inside her chest. It was like feeling her own heartbeat, knowing perfectly well it was happening constantly and rhythmically without having to think about it, much like breathing. Yet, it resonated with another beat that echoed in her chest. A constant invader, yet welcomed like it was supposed to be there like it always was.

And she felt his breath flowing through his lungs, and so hers.

She needed to focus a bit more to discover that their channel wasn’t just that. Angrboda felt what his skin felt. She heard the echo of his voice and even if she could not understand clearly what he said, she knew that it wasn't a memory but a present moment.

Ivar was flowing inside of her. The distance seemed to become greater and greater. Yet she felt so deeply connected to him. It was beyond her powers. It was visceral.

It was terrifying.

Whatever she felt the night before was, it was now undeniable and powerful.

Part of her wanted to understand what it meant and why it existed. She wanted to explore that bond. How far and deep would it go? How much were they connected? Would it dissipate, one day?

There was now a sea storm roaring inside of her. It was made of violent emotions clashing with each other like dense and dark clouds carrying thunder and flashes of lightning, unleashing their violent rain and winds over the agitated deep black waters of an undiscovered ocean.

But part of Angrboda didn’t want to see or feel those emotions.

She knew both Ivar and she were hoping to go back to reality. Yet, they didn’t stand a chance.

Or better, she didn’t stand a chance. Not when her entire world seemed so different now.

“Damn it…” Angrboda whispered to herself, lowering her head and curving her body on top of Ulfrún.

The horse reacted to her move, stopping her pace and raising her head, meeting Angrboda halfway and giving her a place to rest, for a moment. She seemed to do it on purpose and Angrboda gratefully accepted that move.

She was tired of not having one thing going as it was supposed to. Or as she wanted it to go, at least. Even just once.

It wasn’t that she hated the idea of being connected so deeply to Ivar – that wasn’t the major problem.

But she desperately wanted some peace.

As much as her mind could crave it so intensely. Her body was instead ready for battle. Ready for a fight.

She didn’t need to be a witch to imagine that she would have not received what she was craving for possibly for a long time.

Angrboda suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything and a state of panic started to settle in.

She felt the adrenaline crawl under her skin, tensing her muscles in sudden cramps of pain. Her heartbeat accelerated, beating quicker and quicker, and her breath became irregular.

The more she thought about it, the more she spiralled into those feelings and felt worse.

Angrboda clutched her fingers around Ulfrún’s black, long mane, squeezing it.

Angrboda's body shook under such pressure and pain, and she broke into a silent cry, unable to keep her tears in, unable to think or be.

She moved a hand to her own chest, trying to squeeze as much skin she could through the material of her shirt and leather vest. She pushed her fingers against her diaphragm, hoping she could somehow slide them under her skin to rip it apart, and through her ribs to break them open, so to reach her heart and just tear it out.

If she could do all of that, her torn, still beating and bleeding heart would be sacrificed to her dearest God Loki.

Would he, then, answer her prayers and give her peace? Would he, then, accept her sacrifice?

A strong shiver shook Angrboda's little figure, she now looked even smaller.

A sudden thought, blurry like a lost memory, hit Angrboda. To focus on her breathing. In and out, slowly.

She was so lost in her own mind, panic and torments, that didn’t even realise it wasn’t a memory – but a voice hissing through her thoughts and slowly guiding her to gain control.

Angrboda slowly found a hold on her breathing, deciding to put every single thought and any inch of attention on it. She started to count the seconds, to time her inhaling and exhaling.

And slowly the control over her breath spread throughout her entire being.

Angrboda sat back up, and quickly ran her hand on her face, clearing the tears that scarred her skin.

She took a second to regain control and order, shaking her shoulders as if it could be that easy to shake off all her emotions.

Then, as nothing happened, she gave a grateful caress on Ulfrún neck, just a second before encouraging the grey mare to continue into her walk through the forest.

Her mind felt light, her thoughts were muffled, as her emotions, for all the rest of her journey.

She knew it took some time, but it definitely felt like it took only a couple of minutes to reach Floki’s workshop by the beach.

Angrboda dismounted and then guided Ulfrún to the haystack where the other horses were kept, noticing her father’s horse was gone.

She took the time to unload her bag from her horse’s side and then took the saddle off Ulfrún.

Then, Angrboda ran her hands on her grey mare back and side, both to give her a cuddle and to check the temperature of her coat.

After all the travelling Ulfrún did in the past few days, Angrboda knew she needed a good brush and a wash. And she wanted to do it, to take care of her, but… Later.

Angrboda moved in front of Ulfrún, who lowered her head into her rider's hands and accepted her closeness.

Ulfrún welcomed Angrboda caresses with a low neigh. It was a friendly and warm sound. She knew her loyal horse was there supporting her – people who diminished horses to just common animals were so wrong. Because they were massively strong and intelligent animals, but most of all, they were empathetic.

Angrboda pushed her forehead on Ulfrún's muzzle and closed her eyes for a second, breathing in, and out. Still trying to push the panic down,, hoping to do it enough to suppress it.

“Angrboda!” Helga’s familiar voice broke the silence.

Her tone was as sweet and as warm as the one of a loving mother would be, Angrboda felt it around her like a hug.

She was distracted enough to not have felt her energy being close. Even if it was supposed to be quite alarming for someone like her, Angrboda didn’t pay too much attention to that miss.

“Mother.” She turned over and let Helga welcome her with a hug.

At the beginning of that contact, Angrboda felt a bit uneasy. Feeling someone else’s closeness on her body made her skin crawl. But slowly, she melted away between her mother’s arms and gripped on her tighter, finding a moment to relax.

“Are you ok, my child?” Helga didn’t let go but kept her close.

Angrboda senses and powers seemed to be waking up, muffled and confused like after a very long sleep. But slowly, she started to feel Helga’s aura. Her concern. Her love. Her sweetness.

Angrboda just shook her head, and then hid her face on her shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t- know.”

“Come. Us girls can talk. Your father is away.”

“Where did he go?”

“Ragnar departed this morning to Hedeby and we lent him a horse. But your father wanted to walk the way with him and then go to Kattegat.”

“Oh, I see.”

Helga guided Angrboda through the beach, taking her arm under hers. “So, what has happened?”

“I-” Angrboda hesitated. Her words stopped, trapped in her throat and for a few moments she could not talk.

A new wave of anxiety washed over her. Angrboda lowered her eyes, squeezing herself in her shoulders. There were so many things she wanted to say. So much has happened. And she needed to unload the weight over her shoulders.

Gods, if she needed to unload.

But something still stopped her.

The thought that her opening up could do worse, maybe causing bigger problems, or that it could simply be an inconvenience.

Helga stopped, pulling Angrboda to follow her too.

The two women looked at each other for a while, and it seemed like they were looking in a mirror, each face was a reflection of the other.

Angrboda's eyes burned of the same green her father’s irises did, with the same intellect and determination. But they were shaped like her mother’s, in such a sweet curve of her brows and forehead. Her cheeks would be as pink as Helga’s, with a smile able to melt ice like her mother had, a gift the Gods gave her too.

But Angrboda didn’t just look like her mother. She had her sweet essence burning through her veins, with her charm and knowledge.

Helga was a being of such purity. Perfectly able to do great things, able healer and witch, she could wield life and death in her hands, yet she never had any interest in hurting anyone. Her patience, calm and comprehension for others were one of a kind, and in all the years Angrboda knew her, she never saw her break or lose her control.

Helga was a precious woman.

Her mother just looked and looked through Angrboda’s eyes, and then raised her hand, firstly caressing the air around her face like her father would do with her aura, and then, she scooped her cheek in her palm, both firmly and lightly, caressing her skin.

“I am your mother, Angrboda. I know something happened. I know something is always happening. I see it through your eyes, I feel it all around you. I will always give you space-”

“Something is always happening seems almost like a euphemism.” Angrboda interrupted Helga’s words, showing a sad smile.

She ate away enough space. From how long she wasn’t openly speaking to her mother? From how long she cut Helga out of her troubles?

Angrboda took a deep breath, and then finally nodded, deciding that words would have come out, sooner or later. An avalanche just needed the wrong pebble to fall out of place to start rolling.

“I- I spent the night with someone.”

“Was it Hvitserk White-Shirt?”

“No.”

Helga just nodded, her aura betrayed such hope following her words. Angrboda knew she liked Hvitserk for her. Her mother knew about their affection even before Angrboda noticed it.

Her mother then continued on walking to their main tent in the middle of the beach. For a moment there was silence, between the two women, while Helga invited Angrboda to take a comfortable seat.

“Forgive me for possibly overstepping, my daughter, but I thought you and Hvitserk were close. You were so in love with the boy!”

Angrboda, sat on a pillow and to her mother's words automatically retracted as much as possible in her own shell, she curled up on herself, tucking her legs in a hug against her chest. Her eyes were sad and evasive. “I know.”

She whispered like it was a secret that needed to be kept from those who were always watching and listening.

Helga tipped her head to the side, just looking at her. Implying she could talk if she wanted. And Angrboda bit into that silence. “For reasons I cannot explain, my closeness to Hvitserk can’t happen. He cannot know. Nobody can know.”

“But you can tell me anything. Whatever you’ve done, or has happened, I will always stand next to you.”

With Helga words, Angrboda’s heart warmed up and melted away in such deep love and respect for her mother.

She always considered herself a lucky person to be raised and loved by two people like Floki and Helga. Both because everything they were, and so she was, but especially because of that unconditional affection her parents always seemed to have for her, no matter what.

Both Helga and Floki were two people considered different from everyone else, tied to each other by such love, but also comprehension of their nature, backgrounds and attitudes. And that same feeling branched over to their daughter.

Angrboda felt surrounded and overwhelmed by her mother’s love. In a good way.

She felt her mother's feelings release through her aura and flow all around and throughout her. She breathed them and mirrored them reflecting what Helga thought and felt just looking at her.

It was powerful. An unbreakable bond that started so many years ago and lasted through so many things. And still beat and existed – and always would have.

With everything that has happened and changed around her, and how much she was now transformed - she wasn’t a child anymore, and she wasn’t the same girl she was one year ago - her parents’ love was a stable, unchangeable reference and point of a strong connection.

Like the North Star would be for a lost traveller.

Angrboda felt enlivened, becoming brighter and less oppressed by her usual thoughts and worries. It wasn’t an emotion Angrboda managed to show effectively.

In fact, her expression relaxed and her eyes sparkled with affection. Even a warm smile appeared on her lips. But that was it – there was some kind of awkward barrier that stopped Angrboda from actually telling her mother how appreciative she was.

Because she was. And at the same time, she also thought that her mother could always say and feel something of that sort, seeing her as her child, loving her unconditionally, yet not completely understand.

Would she understand, now?

She would have accepted her and stood by her. But would have Helga comprehend totally what Angrboda was going through and her reasons?

Angrboda didn’t give it any thought, before rushing to the conclusion that probably she wouldn’t have. As any young person would think of an older and wiser one. Accepting someone else who could know better was difficult, especially for a woman like her, at her age, going through what she was living.

Angrboda raised her hands to her hair and moved her copper waves to the side, starting to distractedly braid them, suddenly feeling the need to fill her hands with something.

“I know, I know-” she paused for a second, trying to find better words that wouldn’t sound dismissive, “-but you don’t understand.”

There were still so many things that she wanted to say to enlighten the entire situation, but she knew she didn’t have the right words for it.

“So, explain it to me, then.” Helga's voice didn’t change. Her tone remained gentle and mild. It sounded almost surprising.

Angrboda squeezed herself between her shoulders in an automatic reaction, almost trying to evade that conversation that suddenly started to feel heavy, in a way. “I –” Angrboda stopped, trying to collect her thoughts into a sentence that would make sense and sound explanatory, but also respectable. “-I might have taken the decision to lay with another man to honour him, but also for selfish reasons.”

“What were your reasons?”

“At the beginning it was vengeance. I wanted to get back at Hvitserk for something. But then it became-” Another pause followed while Angrboda searched for a way to phrase her thoughts. She lowered her eyes, escaping her mother’s sight. “Then I thought that lying with someone else could have definitely broken the bond between me and Hvitserk.”

“Oh. Well, it makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“I guess it does. But I am also imagining that you cannot have definite proof that your plan will work, can you?”

“Not really, no. But I am hoping it will. The biggest problem is not even that.”

“And what is?”

“It was supposed to be just as it sounds. We both agreed, no strings attached. Yet, I now think the entire world shifted around itself.”

A tiny smirk appeared on Helga's lips and a shot of sincere amusement crossed her aura.

Angrboda wanted to be filled in with whatever funny thought she just had. “What is it?”

“My love, I really wouldn’t give any man such a credit after a night of passion.”

Angrboda’s cheeks caught fire, turning violently red. But a true, jolly smile appeared on her lips. But Angrboda didn’t answer, still not sure what happened last night.

Ivar’s heartbeat was still there. Like the rhythm of his breath. Still echoing in her chest.

“Who is this man, then?”

“Ivar.”

“The Boneless?!” Her mother gasped. Her wide eyes opened even more while pure surprise crossed the woman. The feeling didn’t carry any malicious sense. Just pure curiosity.

Angrboda was surprised to find such a pleasant warmth surrounding Helga, while that information sunk in.

She knew Helga loved Ivar like a son. They grew together, and Helga was there, following every lesson Floki had to teach them. Before Angrboda had the knowledge to heal Ivar, Helga’s hands were the ones that took care of his injuries and pain.

Angrboda just remained quiet for a moment. “Ivar and I- Something had changed, mother.”

“You know, my child, that sex is the most powerful magic – together with the one of blood. I’m not surprised you’re now changed.”

“But I didn’t need it to change. I needed this to remain as it was.”

“And what was it supposed to be?”

“I didn’t need another thing to become complicated, mother.”

“Can you explain the change you felt?”

Angrboda lowered her eyes on the ground. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to say.

It was her secret.

Ivar’s love for her seemed to be a secret he kept for a very long time. Now, it was hers.

And their connection. That was hers too.

Angrboda just raised a hand to her chest, slowly beating her palm against her own flesh. “I feel Ivar now. I am connected to him. There’s no way I can explain it.”

She looked into her mother’s eyes, waiting for an answer. Helga nodded to her, remaining silent for a very long few seconds. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“I never said it was a bad thing. It’s just change I didn’t need.”

“The only thing that is certain is change. You cannot be just play being kids forever.”

“No. Of course not-”

“Let me ask you this: do you regret it?”

“No.”

“So, where is the problem?”

“The problem is that I- I am tired of having to deal with difficult situations. I would like something to be easy.”

“But you are not a common woman. You know that better than anyone else, my child. Your life won’t be easy, unfortunately. I wish I could be of better help. But I can just tell you that you’re so strong, and one day all this fighting won’t appear so difficult, I promise.”

Helga leaned closer, squeezing Angrboda’s hands between hers and nodding, looking right into her eyes, as if she wanted to make sure that the seed of that idea properly found grounds in her mind.

Angrboda nodded, even if Helga’s answer didn’t satisfy her. She wished once in a while she could receive a better answer to her problems than just the fact that she was different and so deserving of an unsettled and difficult existence.

“You’re helping, mother. I- I guess at the moment I have to accept not having answers, but talking is helping.” It was true, with every word, and new notion that she let out from her lips the weight pushing her down seemed to lift. Not disappear completely but at least ease.

Another amused smile appeared on Helga’s lips. Behind her hazel eyes, Angrboda could clearly see her curious spirit dancing. “Now, you’re clearly a grown woman. So, how about you let me teach you how to brew your own infusion of herbs to avoid unwanted pregnancies, uhm? I am going to guess it might be another complication we don’t want to worry about… Right?”

“Yes. Right. I’m not naïve about this though. I did think to ask you.”

“I know you’re a smart woman. You’ve got your brains from me.”

Helga nodded towards her while tapping her index on her temple, exchanging with her daughter a cheeky smile.

“And in the meantime you can better explain to me what is going on, or what happened, uhm? If you want.”

Angrboda nodded now a bit more convinced, maybe even confident, willing to fulfil her mother’s curiosity. She welcomed the feeling of her chest being a little lighter, and a little brighter with such a relief.

Helga moved. Getting back up she started looking around, probably thinking about what ingredients she needed.

Then, a sudden giggle pervaded her mother. Helga shook her head raising a hand to her face like she was trying to hide her smile and contain her laugh, which became even stronger.

“What is it?” Angrboda lifted her head up, trying to catch her attention, or understand what was so hilarious.

Helga turned over and Angrboda was hit by her amusement. “You know, I think that your father is going after the wrong man, then.”

Margrethe fixed her dress wiggling in it and moving it back around her body as it was supposed to be worn.

She passed her hands on the thick material of its skirt, trying to flatten some barely noticeable or totally invisible creases.

Her hands vibrated under a tiny charge of nervousness that quickly spread like wildfire throughout her whole being.

Maybe, she would have been able to rustle some time up later and sneak around the coast to give herself a wash.

Her sudden need to be clean and tidy, showing a perfect image was moved by such different feelings. There was her slight guilt, and the idea she was possibly doing something wrong. But more than that, it was the anxiety of a moment she felt just like one would a second before jumping off a cliff.

She inhaled oxygen in her lungs, trying to breathe her nervousness away.

Fresh air would have definitely helped more than the congested one of the barn, smelling of dry hay, earth, manure and sex. But she could not do much better than that, right now.

Her plan worked. After she told all her information and did what she had to at the market, she went back home knowing that Kattegat would be soon buzzing with news.

She made her way back to the Hall and patiently continued with her day, waiting and filling the time with chores she didn’t really want to do but could not escape.

Until the brothers came back.

They all left early that morning to presumably go and fetch Ivar from the place he met Angrboda the night before.

What she had to say at the market were not lies. She knew what she was talking about and how much tension that happening created around the Hall, especially between the Brothers.

She was there when Ivar broke the news to his brothers. The crippled one was all proud and quite frankly impudent about it – and was met with different reactions by the others.

No one judged him, as Margrethe would have expected it to happen. Not even Sigurd. But Hvitserk kicked off quite badly about it. It was understandable if he was as close to Angrboda as it seemed to be.

But then, for some reason that Margrethe could not quite understand, in a dynamic she was totally a stranger to, even Hvitserk calmed down and just seemed to accept the news, blessing his younger brother.

Well, she was not of the same opinion the Brothers seemed to have on the matter. And of course, Margrethe was convinced she had the right to have an opinion about it.

“You seem bothered.”

Margrethe didn’t realise she got carried away by her own thoughts.

She looked over, finding Ubbe still laying in the hay, looking comfortable and satisfied. His blue eyes pierced through her, studying her every move.

Margrethe covered her thoughts with a smile, leaning her head to the side, imagining that could be enough to distract him.

“I am not bothered. Maybe I'm just concerned.” She moved closer to him. Kneeling next to Ubbe, she raised a hand to caress his features in an affectionate manner.

Ubbe was definitely her favourite between them all, and she knew they were growing closer to each other. Or at least, she knew he was starting to develop feelings for her. Of which she felt quite proud of.

She was working on getting close to Sigurd as well. But she had to behave in such different ways with the two brothers.

Ubbe didn’t need her attention to inflate his confidence, of that he was already quite full. But she knew he was ambitious and he liked to conquer power, lands or hearts alike. So, she knew he liked the idea of charming her away from the others, taking it as a personal gain because of his infatuation in her regards, but also as a win.

Instead Sigurd just liked to have the affirmation that he could have attention. He was nonetheless powerful and he still was owed respect for being a Son of Ragnar – but he had a stormy heart and quite a short temper, he definitely liked to receive care and consideration though. Margrethe devotion and love was enough to make him crumble.

So, she had to say that her plan was working quite well. She would have used anyone to climb the ladder to her freedom. But if she had to bet on someone she would have picked, that was Ubbe.

The Son of Ragnar turned his head, and closing his eyes he softly kissed the palm of her hand. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh-” Margrethe retracted her hand, then placed them both on her knees. She turned her head and leaned it on the side, clearly showing herself uncertain – even scared. But also, trying to hide away. “I don’t know if I can talk freely.”

“You can always talk freely around me.”

Margrethe kept her act, hooking Ubbe’s attention with her naïve behaviour.

Again, her plan worked better than expected. A bit of acting and sex was definitely the quickest way into a man’s heart.

Margrethe showed hesitation as much as possible. Even if she looked forward to proceeding with her plan to isolate Angrboda from the brothers, she still had to be smart about it.

“I am concerned about you. And your brothers.”

“Why?” Ubbe sat up, leaning closer to her. Once his attention was hooked, Margrethe finally raised her eyes, pulling out her secret weapon: having them widened, assuming such a lost girl expression.

She knew someone as courageous and heroic as Ubbe would have never resisted such a look.

“I am hearing things all around, and I am seeing things. I think you’re being manipulated. All of you. And it’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”

“My brothers and I are not kids, we know how to take care of ourselves.”

“Forgive me, if I am overstepping but- I- I am just worried.”

“You said we were manipulated. By who? In what way? What did you hear or saw?”

“I think it’s Angrboda.” Margrethe whispered her name, pretending just saying it scared her deeply.

At that point, she noticed Ubbe freeze on the spot, his eyes became sharper and, if possible, brighter.

“Can’t you see how the witch is working her way on you? How is she winding all of you up and putting you against each other? I think she is trying to-”

The more she talked, the more livid Ubbe’s face became. She didn’t expect it, she thought she had him in a tight enough grasp to be able to manipulate him. But she didn’t, clearly.

He shushed her, shaking his head. “Of this, you’re not free to speak.” He just turned away and got up, seemingly ready to leave without saying another word to her.

Which Margrethe didn’t have any intention of letting him do, so she followed. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Ubbe turned over. He looked angry and extremely serious. To the point that when he raised a hand to her face, she was ready to be slapped and be silenced back to her position.

He didn’t. Besides his anger, he still showed her such sweetness, just scooping her cheek into his palm. “I do not know what you heard. But I know what people say. Let me clear up that Angrboda is a sister to us. She is one of us. And she is not malicious as people describe her. Do not believe what you hear.”

“But she-”

“This conversation is over, Margrethe. Angrboda is not a matter of discussion. And you do not have to worry about her.”

Margrethe bit her tongue, thinking she just messed that right up. Maybe she should have waited a bit longer, worked her way into Ubbe’s heart deeper before trying to seep doubts in his head about Angrboda. Maybe.

The idea he was so attached to her, to the point he wouldn’t listen for any reason, but just straight be ready to protect her was infuriating. Was she jealous? Maybe. Maybe a bit.

Both because she didn’t disdain Ubbe, she liked him quite enough, so the idea another woman was around him wasn’t appealing, and because she wanted to provoke the same kind of loyalty and reaction in her own regards.

Ubbe raised his other hand too, now firmly grabbing her face, bringing her to look him straight in the eye. For a few seconds, he just stood there. His icy irises seemed to penetrate into her brain. “You know what I would worry about? The distance you keep from Hvitserk. Angrboda is not someone you want to cross.”

“I-”

“No. Don’t say anything. Just take my suggestion.”

Margrethe just nodded.

Her mind travelled fast to many thoughts. More than anything, she wondered how a girl so pariah gained such respect between the Sons of Ragnar. How was it that she wasn’t treated like any common woman, but like one of them, as Ubbe said, and yet could be seen as a woman nonetheless?

The more Margrethe thought about it, the more she convinced herself that Angrboda was a threat to her plan.

She knew she made enough wrong moves around her to make Angrboda not like her. So, now it was a matter of time. If Angrboda would have whispered her disapproval about Margrethe in any of the brothers’ ears they would have listened to her, clearly.

Margrethe needed to act fast and find a more secure position very soon. Before her plan could go up in smoke and she would be doom to life as a slave. She just couldn’t accept the idea. She already was too comfortable in her fantasy – soon to be a reality, as she liked to imagine becoming Queen.

And she wouldn’t have let a girl ruin her hard work.

It was a matter of time and her window to have the upper hand was very short.

Ubbe gave her a gentle shake. “I am serious. You must be very careful. You know I like you, but not as much to accept this behaviour.”

“I am sorry.”

Ubbe just nodded and then, without saying anything else, he just left her.

Once alone, Margrethe just looked at the barn door from where Ubbe exited. Her eyes burned. She squeezed her fists, shaking in frustration and slight fear.

Of course, she wouldn’t have let Ubbe warnings stop her. She had a plan and was convinced into making it out and getting her freedom and power.

And her possibilities didn’t end there.

Just because Ubbe was her first choice, and the first she turned to – it didn’t mean he was the only one she could speak with about her concerns.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Hvitserk was untouchable. She imagined his affection for Angrboda was too blinding for her to have a chance to slip through the cracks and manipulate him.

Ivar was too unpredictable and she imagined he would have welcomed her words with anger, protecting Angrboda. But of Ivar, she was actually scared, because she knew he lacked consciousness or remorse and maybe he would have even killed her if he felt like it.

So, she was left with Sigurd, who she knew was infatuated and easy to manipulate. Especially on the whole Angrboda matter. He didn’t seem to have any intention to protect her, and definitely Sigurd clearly doubted Angrboda.

Margrethe waited patiently for the time to pass. She left the barn only when it felt like it was long enough to exit from it without raising suspicion.

She went looking for Sigurd, which didn’t require long, she knew where he liked to hide when he didn’t to be around the Hall with the others – which meant most of his time.

He could be either at the tavern playing music, singing and drinking, but that was a more possible scenario in the evening. Or enjoying being alone, hiding away behind the stables.

There Margrethe found him.

She heard the musical tune of his flute betraying Sigurd’s presence.

All the Brothers had different interests besides the usual fighting, hunting and fishing.

Ubbe and Hvitserk both liked to play various dice games, both being quite skilled and extremely competitive about it. Margrethe imagined they just kept challenging each other throughout the years, becoming better and better.

Ivar’s hobby was carving wood. It wasn’t something the cripple ever showed anyone, but it wasn’t even so well hidden. It could be carving runes, or creating figurines either way. Margrethe hated to think someone like him could be talented.

Sigurd’s was music and flyting, he had a talent for that form of creation. He was able to play various instruments, gifted with fine hearing and a tuneful voice, but he could also master words both in ballads and poetical insults.

Margrethe saw him practice flyting many times and definitely, it was Sigurd’s favourite pastime.

She took a second to compose herself. Before turning the corner, she fixed her hair and pinched her cheeks, to make her skin blush. Once more, she ran her hands on her simple dress, making sure it looked nice and in order.

“There you are!” She chirped, greeting Sigurd with the offering of a smile. He immediately lowered his flute, raising his green eyes on her.

Sigurd smirked at her getting back up on his feet, from the pile of hay he sat on. “Looking for me?”

“In fact I was.”

“I wonder for pleasure or need?”

“Why not both?” Margrethe stepped closer to him, unleashing all her charm, knowing perfectly well he was vulnerable to it.

Sigurd was the only one between the Brothers who wouldn’t hide his interest in her even in front of the Queen herself, and Margrethe had to admit she liked how bold he could be, every now and then.

Even if her greater ambition remained pointed towards the oldest between them.

But of course, Sigurd didn’t need to know that.

She raised a hand to his torso, softly caressing his chest while tipping her head to the side. Her eyes were filled with manipulative warmth but were welcomed by Snake-in-the-Eye.

Sigurd’s smirk assumed a warmer curve, while leaned in for a kiss, that Margrethe didn’t deny him. “What is it that you need, then?”

“Oh. Besides everything else you could offer, my prince, there is something I’m here to humbly ask.”

“Yes. I know. I see it in your eyes.” Sigurd moved a hand raising it to her face, firstly caressing her jawline and then tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

He was sharp as a blade. With Sigurd one could not so easily understand his means or motives. Even in his affection, she wasn’t entirely sure she managed to tangle him around her fingers because he truly fell in love with her, or if it was to prove a point to others. Yet, it was a closeness that benefitted both of them, and so they both enjoyed it.

“I need your protection.”

Sigurd's expression suddenly changed. His features hardened, shaded by sudden defence and seriousness. “What has happened?”

“I might have attracted the animosity of a few members of the Hall. Of whom erratic behaviour I am concerned. Not just for me… But for all of you.”

“Who?”

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”

Margrethe gave him a look that didn’t need explanation. The sudden glimpse of enlightening that crossed his eyes made it clear he immediately understood who she was talking about. Especially for someone who knew what she had done and caused, in recent times.

Sigurd nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I am not so scared only of Angrboda.”

“No. You still have to be careful around that one.”

“Yes. But she is clearly protected by someone who scares me way more.”

“Hvitserk is not that scary, believe me. He is just dominated by a stupid infatuation. I hope for my brother he will open his eyes up soon. But otherwise, he is harmless.”

“But I am not talking about Hvitserk. I wouldn’t be scared of him.”

Sigurd remained in silence for a second, clearly thinking about what she could mean. “Are you talking about Ivar?”

“Yes.”

Sigurd didn’t reply. Margrethe just watched his expression becoming more livid, but he waited for her to explain. And she wasn’t waiting for anything better. “No one should have a witch so close to power. Everyone knows it’s bad news. Yet, Angrboda is extremely close to all your brothers. Even to you.”

“She is not close to me.”

“Then why did you never outed what she had done to your brother Hvitserk?”

“My loyalty doesn’t lie to her if that is your concern. I stayed quiet for my brother's honour. Besides, who would take him seriously with the knowledge that a woman did that to him?!” Sigurd tongue was often left free and would easily run through hurtful words. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even realise it. But it was his nature. And his words hissed, filled with poison.

“One way or the other, Angrboda can roam free at the Hall. I saw it. I saw that she can do whatever she wants.”

“Yes.”

“And she is under Ivar protection.”

“Ivar is just a spoiled little boy, and a cripple. What threat could he ever be?”

“Maybe not to you. You’re a Ragnarsson. But for a useless slave?” I wronged the Loki-Kissed and now, Ivar is free to unleash his vengeance on me. You didn’t notice his comments? His behaviour? He scares me…”

“Hvitserk wronged Angrboda. Not you.”

“Yes, but what can Ivar understand? The nightmares I constantly have of him killing me in terrible ways.” Margrethe spectacle became almost art. She showed such a scared mask which to her came out quite easily – as lying.

“He would not get so close to you to ever do such a thing.”

“How can you be sure? And with the witch whispering in his ear at all times-”

“I know. I see the danger. I keep trying to make my brothers understand how dangerous it is to keep a witch so close. But none of them would listen.”

“Maybe your brothers wouldn’t because they are too consumed by the Loki-Kissed tricks. But what about your people?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have heard what the people of Kattegat think about her. I know your people do not like Angrboda.”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“I think it wouldn’t be a difficult thing to brand her as an outcast and wind people up against the witch.”

Margrethe waited for her words to sink into Sigurd’s mind. Of course, she didn’t need his approval for that part of her plan. She already started it. Margrethe was determined to ensure her own position and keep climbing the ladder to reach the top. “So, the people are smart, they understand better, and they can act with the most powerful of voices.”

“Yes, yes. I get what you mean. I don’t even think yours it’s such a terrible idea, honestly.”

Margrethe nodded towards Sigurd, showing him such a proud little smile, perfectly knowing that her plan was good.

Sigurd mirrored her move and nodded. His words, intentions and actions were dictated by worry, but not entirely. Behind his eyes, there was still a sly, selfish aim. He may be acting showing his affection for her, but at the same time… He was listening to her because she was saying something that could be useful to him.

That was it, Margrethe knew they would have been able to help each other.

“And in the meantime, I will protect you. My brother can’t touch you.”

“I am sure that separating him from the Loki-Kissed will be an advantage for you too.”

“Oh, yeah?"

“Yes, in your constant battle against Ivar. Because he will become useless without her.” If she spoke such words, with such courage and insubordination in front of anyone else, she would have been slapped and definitely punished.

But Sigurd just looked at her and raised his chin, his smile became a confident smirk. “Sounds like we’ve got an agreement then. How do you think you should act on this plan? It seems like you’ve got more answers than me, already.”

“Rumours are a powerful instrument, my prince.”

Sigurd nodded at her words with a clear sign of approval and then moved closer to her, leaning in for another kiss.

This time, Margrethe welcomed his lips with more enthusiasm. But pulled back before that kiss could become anything else.

“I need to get back to the Hall. But I will come and look for you later.”

“Lucky me.”

They both smiled at each other, to the point that even Margrethe felt a warm hold around her heart, appreciating the man she had in front of her just because he understood her and didn’t turn her away.

“I will walk you back.”

The two of them quietly found their way back to the Hall.

Margrethe wasn’t sure if Sigurd already had the intention of going back, or if he did it just for her. But either way, it didn’t change much.

She imagined she would have to go back to her chores and start to amend dinner for the Brothers and their mother.

Any slave would have been punished for her behaviour. Taking free time in the middle of the day, or in general, wasn’t something people like her had a choice over. Ever. But Margrethe suffered from the attention of some of the Brothers – which over time, made her too confident on the liberties she decided to take.

Sigurd and her slid through the open doors of the Hall, just to find Hvitserk speaking to someone.

Margrethe could not see the man, but Sigurd’s reaction, pushing his arm out in front of her stopping her from walking any further, made her understand he was someone important.

Her curious eyes ran towards the scene in front of her.

“I will not ask to know what is going on. I do not need to. My daughter will have the freedom to explain herself. But, know this, break her heart again, and I will make you regret every breath you took since you were born.”

That must have been one of the tallest men she ever saw. But besides his body size, which was about the only detail she could distinguish of the man, he didn’t need any more presentation than his words already betrayed.

Hvitserk welcomed his words just raising his chin proudly in a blunt nod. She could see his brown eyes burn of some kind of bright feeling while he looked the other man right in the eye, without flinching. “I wouldn’t dare. But I won’t do it just because of your threats, Floki. But because-”

When Hvitserk confirmed his identity, Margrethe took a second to look at him. She was almost surprised by how he looked. She didn’t picture Floki the Boat-Builder like that: tall and built, his clothes seemed in order and he was armed – she could see the axe hanging off his side. But there was something off in his voice, something peculiar in the way Floki the Boat-Builder sounded out words and sentences. His voice seemed to be high pitched in random moments of the sentences. It was both weird and interesting.

“Yes, yes. I do not need your words on the matter.” Floki quickly interrupted Hvitserk’s words and moved his hands and body erratically all around just to close a hand around his own forehead like he was suddenly hit by a painful headache. “And even if your words bring you honour, young wolf, just keep my words as a reminder. Uhm? You better take good care of my daughter.”

“She can take good care of herself, though. You know that. She doesn’t need a man to do it.” Hvitserk smirked intelligently and Margrethe could just imagine what could be Floki’s facial expression in return to his words.

She observed the man raise a hand to Hvitserk’s shoulder, giving him a soft shake. “You know? I really cannot make up my mind whether I like you or not.”

“I will always look after your daughter. I know you know.”

“I am a fool. I wanted to punish you, and then I decided to spare you but just warn you. Now I might even consider you worthy.”

Sigurd made a step forward, clearly intending to break through that moment between Floki and Hvitserk.

Margrethe could not understand entirely what just happened. The two talked to each other with threats, yet managed to keep respect well high. And, she knew they were talking about Angrboda but why?

What did Hvitserk have to do with anything?

If she had her story straight, then he and Angrboda were nothing at the moment. Actually, more than nothing. She saw in what state he came back last night, after delivering Ivar to his night with the witch.

So, she could not understand how Hvitserk could stand in front of Angrboda’s father and take in all of that, without a doubt or a shiver or anything to say to contradict the man.

She wondered what changed. But for once, Margrethe just faded in the background, accepting her position and not willing to overstep.

“Floki, welcome! I hope my brother made sure to make you feel comfortable upon your arrival!” Sigurd’s words distracted the two men, bringing them both to turn over.

When Floki turned over she could finally fill her curiosity of knowing what face he had.

He was undeniably Angrboda’s father. The two had the same expression, at times.

She had always wondered why Angrboda would always go around with her face marked by black lines. She knew their people did it in battle. But Angrboda did it often on a regular basis. And now, seeing her father’s face marked by the same kind of designs, she understood it was possibly another weird family trait.

Floki was tall, yet she could not define his entire height, because he seemed very comfortable in moving around arching his back and neck in a way that made him look off, and dangerous.

Hvitserk expression became serious as soon as he crossed eyes with his brother.

“I won’t stay long Snake-in-the-Eye, but thank you.”

Sigurd just nodded towards Floki and Hvitserk, and then an amused and impudent smile appeared on his face. He crossed his arms, raising his chin proudly. “I couldn’t stop myself from overhearing your conversation-”

“You shouldn’t listen to other people's business.”

Floki's eyes sparkled with dark humour, and even if he showed a smile, the way he tipped his head to the side, not lifting his sight from Sigurd even for a moment, made him look more like an animal than a person.

Sigurd, anyway, didn’t seem to see any threat and just continued. “You know it wasn’t him who fucked your daughter, yes?”

Floki flinched at the bluntness of his words, and seemed to hold his breath. Clear confusion filled his expression, so he turned over to Hvitserk, looking for answers that the boy didn’t give him. Hvitserk just looked back at Floki, shaking his head.

So, Floki turned back to Sigurd and took a step forward. “What are you saying?”

“Is this what you were talking about, right? Deciding how worthy my brother is to stand next to your sweet, sweet daughter.”

Floki's expression started to change, in a way that made Margrethe shiver and wish to have left her spot behind Sigurd as soon as they came in, running away in the kitchen, instead of being curious.

But now, there was nothing she could do.

Margrethe started to understand at least a glimpse of who Floki was and the possible reasons why he had such respect.

Sigurd, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be scared.

“Sigurd.” Hvitserk called his brother, clearly implying he should shut his mouth.

Floki took another step forward. Every time he moved, his shoulders would sway following his steps. “You better explain yourself, boy.”

Sigurd remained where he was standing, looking proud and content, with a never-fading cocky smirk printed on his lips. “It was Ivar.”

Floki startled once again, clearly gasping to that news. His eyes widened and for a moment, his face glimmered in pure surprise. “Ivar?”

Floki’s voice was a whisper, and Margrethe swore she saw the tiniest of smiles appear in the corner of the man's mouth.

But it disappeared in a matter of a second. Floki’s face got back into its serious and dark expression, now even scarier.

He took his time to walk all the way, confronting Sigurd.

“Look at your amused face.” Floki moved his head from one side to the other, looking into Sigurd’s eyes so intensely that he seemed to be digging in his mind.

Floki raised a hand caressing briefly the air, a second before breaking into a high pitch giggle. “You’re so proud of yourself. But you shouldn’t be.”

Floki's expression suddenly froze. The smile his giggle brought disappeared and his irises burned as if he would eat Sigurd alive.

Margrethe recognized his expression because she saw it reflected on Angrboda’s face.

The difference was, on a man like Floki it was scary.

Floki turned over towards Hvitserk, pointing a finger towards him. “Your brother, at least, had the honour to remain silent, take it in and didn’t betray his brother, being a blabbermouth like you.”

Floki looked back at Sigurd, once again tipping his head from one side to the other.

Just now, Sigurd seemed to tremble. The smile he had on his face slowly dried out.

“Nothing to say about it now, uh? What did you think I would have done, knowing what you told me?” Floki moved even closer, to the point that if Sigurd wasn’t scared, Margrethe was enough for the both of them and took a step backwards, trying to hide.

“Ah, yes, that was it. You thought I would have gotten even angrier with Ivar. Shame on you Snake-in-the-Eye.”

“I thought you needed to know the truth.”

“No. You didn’t. But that is entirely your problem. In any case-” Floki leaned closer to Sigurd, getting down to his same height and looked straight into his eyes. “Keep your mouth shut when it doesn’t concern you.”

Margrethe thought her breathing was never as loud as that moment. She just looked and looked and thought, maybe Floki deserves the respect he had.

She saw a smile appear on the man's face, while he nodded and then got back up, turning once again towards Hvitserk. To him, he didn’t say anything but the two just exchanged a nod, like a sort of agreement was decided.

Then, Floki turned over to Sigurd, his smile was now crooked and didn’t seem right. “You better be careful Snake-in-the-Eye. If no one ever explained to you the value of shutting up, every now and then, I might have to.”

It was a threat. But also Margrethe had the impression that if he wanted, Floki could be way scarier and more threatening than that. His anger and words were still clearly muffled.

Sigurd raised his chin, his face was livid, now. He just looked at Floki, and clearly didn’t pick up his suggestion. “Don’t speak to me like you’re my father. Don’t confuse me with others in this Hall that consider you so.” Sigurd’s words were pure poison and something in his behaviour that Margrethe could not quite get, made Floki flinch once more, and his expression seemed to soften.

“I thank the Gods every day for not being your father, Sigurd. But one day, someone will teach you a lesson and you will pay greatly if you don’t learn to shut your big mouth.”

“Let them bring it.”

Floki shrugged and then released a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Suddenly exhausted.

When he went back looking at Sigurd, his expression froze again and his eyes sparkled once more. “Besides, stay out of my daughter's business and you won’t have problems with me. If I cannot teach you manners, I 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 teach you fear.” A grim smile appeared on Floki’s lips and just now, for the first time, he looked up to find Margrethe.

She immediately lowered her eyes to the ground, flattening her figure against the wall she walked back towards and held her breath in for all the time Floki looked at her.

He didn’t say another word but just left the Hall walking out in big strides.

When Floki left, the air seemed to become lighter and easier to breathe in.

“What the fuck Sigurd!” Now it was time for Hvitserk to cross the Hall in big strides, crossing his brother. Hvitserk gave his younger brother a push, raising his chin in a proud nod. “You must stop this. I am tired of you behaving this way!”

“Aren’t you tired of running behind a woman who steps all over you?”

“It is my damn business. And you overstepped.”

“Floki needed to know the truth. I don’t know why you protected her and took the threats Ivar deserved.”

“I will always protect Angrboda’s honour. Or Ivar’s. Or any of yours. Besides, Floki didn’t need to know the truth from you. If Angrboda wanted to tell him, then it should have been her.”

“I don’t understand you. You love a woman that you let your brother have.”

Hvitserk moved quickly. He grabbed Sigurd’s shirt and pulled him close to his face. His brown irises burned with such anger. Margrethe never saw him show such powerful feelings before. “You do not need to understand what I feel. Angrboda is a free woman. Our brother is a worthy man. End of this discussion.”

“So, if I wake up tomorrow and wish to sleep with her-” Hvitserk gave Sigurd a good shake, but his younger brother didn’t react to that but with a smile. “-Yes? Would you let me fuck her?! Or Ubbe? Because we are worthy?”

“I really want to hurt you right now. How about that?!” Hvitserk gave another push to his brother, this time letting him go. And then turned over, walking to the table and pouring himself some ale. “As I said. Angrboda is a free woman. She can do what she wants. With me, and anyone else. I am no one to give permission.”

Hvitserk took a sip from his horn and then pointed his finger towards Sigurd, exchanging with his brother a look. “But you, brother. You have to stop crossing her.”

“Why? What would you do?!” Sigurd spitted back almost immediately and Hvitserk just raised his eyes to the ceiling.

He shook his head, huffing. “Floki is right. One day, someone will teach you a lesson.”

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majesticwren · 2 years

Text

The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 8.4k. Trigger Warnings: Violence, Blood, Weapon Use, Hate Speech, Jealousy, Mention of Sex, Ivar and Angrboda are their own Trigger Warnings, Implied Cheating (?). Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics .

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 9 - Of Axe and Sword.

Angrboda could not say if sleeping for a few hours actually helped.

She woke up still pervaded by a sense of despair and fear knowing she didn’t have a direction or meaning. The now absolute knowledge of not knowing the reason why she walked Midgard crawled under her skin, making her feel uneasy.

The only thing she knew now was that she wasn't supposed to walk the Earth - or breathe its air, drink its water or eat its food.

She existed on borrowed time.

It was terrifying.

Angrboda used to think she was like a Pine tree, with its top watching over a forest and its roots deeply dug in the solid ground. Unmoved by anything, even the changing of the seasons. Standing tall and proud.

Though now, she only felt like a thin and dry leaf lost in the wind.

That change, the shift in her reality, the helplessness she felt in front of her situation, what has been taken away from her and the realisation she could do nothing to change any of it made her feel powerless and scared.

But she didn’t have much time to analyse her emotions before her feelings and body switched into survival mode. As her nerves and muscles fired up with the need to start running, her heart went quiet. Only one feeling was reigning over her, as her first emotional response every time she felt in a fight or flight situation.

Anger .

Although she was welcoming of it and even clutched around that feeling, trying her best not to drown in the void surrounding her, she knew it wasn’t an healthy response.

The fire that poured into her blood, was given by a survival instinct to react to a threat. Except there was no threat.

And even if Angrboda had great pride in thinking she had control over her emotions, she clearly failed. Her hold over the darker, thicker anger surrounding her was feeble. It made it dangerous .

Anger , in people like her , who grew with the roar of war seeded in their blood, easily became a thirst for violence .

Which was the main reason why as soon as Angrboda realised how badly her mood switched, she was more than eager to get as far away as possible from her parents - not willing to risk to put their safety or comfort in danger. Especially since being too close to her father meant he could have easily figured that something was off in her behaviour with only one look.

She would have appreciated spending some time in the forest on her own. But as soon as she remembered Ubbe's invitation to the brothers' training that evening, Angrboda was more than delighted.

She wouldn't have missed the opportunity to fight with purpose with strong opponents like the Sons of Ragnar.

It would have been perfect to unload her thirst for violence hiding behind the excuse of training. And hopefully, she would have been able to calm her spirit.

Angrboda didn't even think about the possibility of another shoe dropping. Again, she boldly thought she had everything under control, and that her choice could not be wrong .

So, Angrboda crossed the forest, this time on foot, moving quickly and swiftly between the trees.

The training range was closer to where she was, compared to Kattegat, hidden in the deep of the forest, on the side of the tall mountain that shielded the beach. It was just a few miles away from the boys hunting cabin and easily reachable from there by a path they usually took.

But it was only minutes away for Angrboda. Especially if she crossed the thick of the woods forgetting about the path.

She knew very well how to find her bearings and direction in those woods, her entire childhood was filled with lessons about how to orient and how to survive. Plus she was also fast and agile, able to run and climb, just as her father taught her.

Her main asset crossing the mountainside like she was doing, was that she was able to recognize the ground structure and where to expect safer walkways.

Of course, she was also guided by the fairies and the far, lost-in-time echoes of swords clashing. It was a relief to feel the energies surrounding her again.

After her visions and encounter with Loki, everything went silent, both the fairies and the songs that the wind brought.

But now, with the world lit by the pale and familiar glimmer of the fairies’ sparkles and the silence broke by the echoes of forgotten chants... Her powers felt stronger.

Angrboda reached her destination with a smile crossing her face. It wasn't to confuse with joy though; it was the smile a warrior would pull in front of a battle.

It was the smile of a hungry wolf .

Her lungs burned, well strained. That day, even more than usual after s run like that, pushing her physical boundaries, since she almost drowned only a few hours prior.

But Angrboda ignored it, as much as she was ignoring the weariness deeply rooted in her bones - her body was in need to rest, as much as her mind. But she thought she didn't have that luxury. Giving in was to give up.

Her pride quickly puffed her chest as she thought about it. It was not insignificant as survival. It was not as meaningless as the need for distraction. It was a fight against herself, and she was determined to win - even if there was no winner.

Finding the training range still deserted made her growl, unsatisfied.

The brothers could have done better.

Angrboda decided to climb on a tree and wait for them. She thought that would have been perfect to have an upper hand on the brothers.

Resting her head against the tree trunk, Angrboda lowered her hands on the branch she sat on and slowly caressed its bark. She closed her eyes and concentrated on that tree's energy flowing into her from the palms of her hands. She listened to that tree story, and to the surrounding forest story.

A tiny smile appeared on her lips, for the first time she found some calm thinking that would be a strong tree for Floki’s boats.

She found a moment of peace. It wasn't her own, of course, but the absorbed one of that old tree, which felt and was part of the growth of the forest. She didn’t care, she welcomed it letting herself close her eyes and breathe.

Soon the brothers came.

Angrboda felt their auras well before the air filled with their chattering and laughter.

Though they ceased to be just boys as soon as they entered the training lot.

There, they were young warriors with everything to prove, especially against each other.

They were all strong and fierce, with their specific weapons of choice and fighting styles.

Never like when they were training and fighting, was it clearer the intrinsic dynamics and bond.

Ubbe wanted to prove himself worthy, but he liked to lead the brothers in their training more. He would take pride in his younger siblings’ victories, strength and precision, as much as he would do for himself - with no exceptions. He would be competitive but have fun in a win or a loss against his brothers equally.

Hvitserk, more or less, followed his older brother in his ways of thinking about their training sessions.

Though Angrboda knew he would have the most fun and pride when fighting against Ivar - even more than against Ubbe. Because with Ivar, it was always a draw, no winner or loser, they were always equal in speed and strength and fighting tactic; which just made the two of them want to win even more.

Sigurd was proud, less interested in the other's achievements and more concerned about his own as if he was always trying to prove a point. He found fighting against Ubbe or Hvitserk fun. But it was different against Ivar. With Ivar it wasn't just training, it was more. Sigurd wanted to do anything in his power to prove himself stronger and smarter, better than the younger brother.

With every win Sigurd would have on Ivar he would excessively show off, and every loss would be taken too personally, leaving him always with a thirst for revenge.

Ivar fed into Sigurd's attitude perfectly, with his short temperament, stubbornness and ability to irritate him like no other.

Ivar was more challenged than the others but no one, not even Sigurd, ever dared to make him feel any different.

His constant need to prove himself superior, never giving up besides his disability, made him as strong as any other brother - as soon as he found himself at an advantage point that would be comfortable enough for him to fight.

Which was the reason why the training field was filled with stumps where he could sit and areas where Ivar could easily find access to weapons.

Ivar's biggest strength was his sharp and strategic mind. But often that wasn’t enough. He was stubborn and proud, wanting to be like the others in everything . Even training. Which meant through the years he pushed himself, ignoring the limits of the body he was caged in, and, furthermore, ignoring what everyone else always thought he should have done, which wasn't becoming a fighter.

Seeing him now proved all of them wrong.

He fought besides his pain and difficulties, since he was only a kid, like all his brothers.

How many times did his bones broke? Angrboda lost count. But it never really mattered.

And if the training between all the brothers was overall nothing more but a game - between Ivar and Sigurd it was always a proper fight .

Angrboda remained hidden on the tree for a while, enjoying the view.

She watched Ivar and Ubbe compete in archery, as Hvitserk and Sigurd fought with swords. Then Ivar broking their fight, and then Hvitserk taking the lead against the younger brother.

Both Ivar and Hvitserk wanted to prevail on one another, but as usual, it ended in a tie.

Then tension invaded the field when Sigurd and Ivar clashed with each other.

That was the moment she decided to nimbly jump down the tree and reveal her presence, breaking the sudden powerful electricity that flooded the field.

Angrboda inhaled all of their emotions, filling her lungs with the brothers' strengths and competitivity.

She caught all the brothers' attention once she approached.

"Hello, boys!" She chirped with a pleased smile printed on her lips.

Their surprise spiked through the air when they saw her, but every one of them seemed to have a different shade of that emotion, which transferred on different kinds of smiles on their faces - besides Sigurd, he just looked at her with his usual unbothered face.

Ubbe was genuinely glad to see her, and his surprise was welcoming.

Hvitserk's was not as easy to read, because his emotions exploded in every direction - from discomfort to guilt to relief to happiness to… Many others just shot all around like crazy sparks.

Ivar almost felt the same way, but his emotions were stained by a sly shadow. The darkness inside of him was well awake and vibrating that day.

And Sigurd... He was just not impressed, more contempt than anything else.

That day, though, Angrboda was there for the only, specific reason to fight. At that point, it was a matter of survival.

Unload her rage in a fight was her best option and she knew that the brothers would have given her exactly what she needed.

Angrboda pulled out her loyal axe, nodding towards all of them. Her green eyes glimmered and seem to move, like a field of grass moved by the wind. "So, who's first, uh?"

She called them out. Her sight danced on all of the Sons of Ragnar.

Sigurd didn't move, still too crossed with Ivar to engage with her - and he didn't like fighting with Angrboda, since he firmly believed she cheated every fight.

Ivar just sat that, just looking at her, clearly implying that she was supposed to be the one who moved closer if she wanted to fight him - his pride glimpsed in his blue eyes.

Ubbe stood back, with a smile on his face, just curious to see what would happen.

So, the only one left was Hvitserk, who firstly looked around to see his brothers' reaction, and just then stepped forward.

It was clear he didn't want to appear like he didn't have the guts to fight Angrboda. It was another thing to prove in front of the others and her. But also, a deep passion flooded his veins the closer he got, holding firmly on his sword.

Angrboda cut out his emotions, ignoring anything that could be distracting.

Even all her feelings for Hvitserk were now anger. Especially her feelings for him.

An amused smirk appeared on his lips, while he tipped his head to the side, looking at her.

Angrboda shook her shoulders – somewhere inside of her buzzed at that smirk, like an automatic answer to something she genuinely was weak to. But even that slowly slid into feeding her thirst for violence.

He nodded towards her signalling to begin. And Angrboda didn't need anything more to charge.

Even the fact that he gave his permission angered her.

Hvitserk was strong and quick on his feet. He was bound to become the strongest warrior between them all in his adulthood; a true berserker , Angrboda knew it, felt it already in the future echoes, that he would make his enemies tremble on their feet and kneel to his battle roar - but now, he was still green and tender.

They all were.

Besides, Angrboda was quicker. Her smaller size and minor brute force were balanced by a swiftness none of the brothers had.

Hvitserk and Angrboda's weapons clashed, while they danced around each other, with lunges, parries and quick attacks.

Soon their emotions seemed to burn both of them. Their fight wasn't training or a game anymore. It was personal. Made of denied passion, broken feelings, secrets, and misunderstandings.

The more relinquished feelings Angrboda felt, now standing so close, the more burned and fed into her anger. As much as Hvitserk's emotions were just fuel for her.

Their duel culminated in their final move. Hvitserk quickly took advantage of Angrboda's lowered defense and moved closer, invading her personal space. He grabbed her hair, pulling them to expose her neck, and pointed the blade of his sword to her throat.

Catching his breath, Hvitserk offered her a victorious smirk. His ambered eyes were bright and the warmth of his soul quickly devoured her.

But Angrboda met his grin, with an equally amused and satisfied one.

Because again, she was quicker than any of them.

While he was distracted thinking he won, she pointed her axe blade to his exposed abdomen and with her free hand, quickly pulled out her dagger, pointing its sharp blade on his chest, right between his ribs. If she had pushed it in his flesh, she would have pierced his heart.

In a real fight, a blade to the throat meant pretty much defeat and certain death. But Angrboda would have definitely brought him to Valhalla with her.

They both stood there, for a second, looking at each other, proudly smiling and catching their breaths.

For a moment, Hvitserk's light seemed to heal her and Angrboda forgot everything. Only for a moment, it was just them.

Her anger seemed to appease as if the beast that took control of her emotions was now retreating.

She knew that she was playing a dangerous game and that the root of everything was that she was supposed to be as far away from Hvitserk as possible.

Yet, she kept finding a way between his arms.

For a second, she even thought to unload everything she knew... To share with him and the other brothers her curse. To ask for help - desperately needing the support of those who she considered the closer people she had.

Her lips trembled under the need to speak up.

"I love you."

"Loki makes me do it."

"I can't be with you because-"

"My fate was to die many years ago. I wasn't supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to have a role in your story."

"I'm lost."

Those thoughts invaded her mind and she almost picked one of those sentences to start her speech.

But then, that moment was brutally interrupted by a sudden slow clapping.

Angrboda gasped and gained control over her thoughts and emotions.

She stepped back, as did Hvitserk, and they both pulled space between each other, lowering their weapons.

The further away she would get from him the clearer her thoughts would become.

A sudden shot of fear run through her blood when she realized she almost did another dangerous mistake - like the one committed last night.

Her eyes quickly moved on the source of the noise, where she found Ivar .

He was offering a large proud grin. His eyes were filled with such a strange mischievous light, as if he was looking at pawns on a gameboard.

"You guys are so entertaining to watch fighting, you know?" None of them answered, but Ivar didn't seem to expect anything since he immediately continued."Angrboda, you need to work on your parry. Did you know that you keep exposing your left side?"

Ivar shook his head, tutting in disapproval and then continuing. "You expose your heart too much."

Angrboda frowned, looking at him, not really understanding where that conversation was going. But it was impossible to decipher the entwined combination of emotions that spiralled in his aura.

It was easier to imagine Ivar was just trying to take the piss or to ignite a reaction, more than actually trying to give a useful suggestion.

His eyes moved quickly on Hvitserk. Suddenly, the resentment that spiked in Ivar's emotions was so clear that seemed to punch Angrboda right in the stomach.

"I know why you ran away this morning."

Everyone's confusion was tangible - and Angrboda showed hers as she absorbed everyone else's.

He wasn't just taking the piss.

Ivar had that look on his face. The expression of someone who knew he just won, because he had an upper hand and projected himself so many steps forward than anyone else.

But the main question was why?

He knew why she ran away? How? Did Ubbe say anything? Or did Ivar just assumed that she panicked? How much was Ivar assuming? Or even, how much was he gambling on, not knowing but only pretending, just to get at whatever he was aiming for?

Angrboda understood he was specifically talking to her, even if he looked at Hvitserk for a moment when his attention went back on her, and his eyes filled with meaning.

"Did you know he fucked the slave girl this morning?"

"Ivar, shut up." Hvitserk barked between gritted teeth.

Everyone went quiet.

She was ready to tell Ivar the same, if only her empathy didn't offer her the truth.

The sudden guilt and anger waves that spilled from Hvitserk were proof enough that Ivar wasn't joking or lying.

And the sound of Angrboda's heart shattering in a million pieces racketed loud and clear, as the sudden roar of her rage. Her anger blazed wildly, and Angrboda lost all the control she tried so hard to maintain.

"What?" Her voice rumbled like thunder breaking through the forest, while her attention slowly moved from Ivar to Hvitserk.

She completely ignored the sudden satisfaction Ivar felt in the unravelling of that situation. And definitely, she ignored the possible reasons he could have to say something like that.

It wasn't the time to find out, not now because clearly her priorities were on something else. But definitely later on she made a point to make questions.

Angrboda knew he was well aware of what feelings he was playing with and what reactions his words could arise between her and Hvitserk.

But all of that didn't matter. Ivar's reasons, Hvitserk and Angrboda's feelings for each other, whatever was going on, or could never go on, between them, didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

But that truth.

Every thought and emotion she had just burned away.

Her anger was for none other than Hvitserk.

"You did what?!"

She knew perfectly she wasn't justified in being angry or possessive over him.

He wasn't hers . And she wasn't entitled to be jealous of who he saw and spent time with. Even if it mattered sharing a bed.

Yet, she was . She was all of that and more.

Pure rage burned through her eyes, fed by pain, resentment, jealousy, disappointment, and by all the fears that had been enraging her from the beginning. It was all mixed up, in her little body, and all exploded towards Hvitserk.

A whirl of wind seemed to rise, around Angrboda and her eyes became darker and darker.

It would have been wise, to be scared of her.

She almost gave everything up for him just the night before. Their fate was moulded once again by Loki, who ripped away the possibility of them having a child, the more she spiralled out of control.

It didn't matter that Angrboda wasn't planning on becoming a mother, that wasn't the point of course.

She could still feel his lips on hers, and she could still taste his kiss on her tongue. His whispering voice demanding her to stay was branded in her brain.

But now, those memories were corrupted as soon as she realised he went with another woman the very next morning.

Her thirst for blood - his blood - grew.

It was a wave of primal anger. No human feeling, but the one of an animal.

Hvitserk's eyes immediately locked with hers, and he raised his hands trying to appease her. "Listen, I..."

"Shut up or I’ll cut your tongue off." Angrboda barked at him. She stepped closer, giving him a push, still holding her weapons in her hands. "You fucked another woman."

"You gave me your blessing, remember?!" Hvitserk pointed his finger at her, answering to her rage, with an equal, sudden feeling. But that just made Angrboda's eyes sparkle with such dimness. She growled at him, almost baring her teeth.

She didn't pay attention to the other brothers. At how Ubbe moved to do something and Sigurd stopped him. And how Ivar was enjoying the havoc he brought.

Angrboda didn't care that they were all just looking at them, being spectators of what was supposed to be a private argument.

"Not with a slave! A slave, Hvitserk!"

She would have been tremendously jealous regardless of the other girl's social position. Angrboda knew it perfectly.

The idea that the man she considered hers could go with another woman was tremendous. And the idea he could eventually love someone else was painful enough to make her wish to feel someone die under her bare hands, knowing it would have felt like a breath of fresh air.

Especially because she knew what kind of lover Hvitserk was. In every kiss, caress, and thrust he would give everything he had. And just the idea he would give himself to someone else was enough to make her want to rip her own heart out of her ribcage.

But she did come to terms with the idea that she needed to let him go, in order to give both of them a chance of a tolerable life; maybe even a decent one.

Though, that was before last night.

Because now, after that, she wasn't expecting to be stabbed in the back in such a way.

Especially with a slave .

She wanted, for Hvitserk, a companion worthy as she was. Not someone who didn't even have the right to freedom.

The problem wasn't even that. Angrboda didn’t hate slaves and didn’t want to feed that type of economy, like her parents tought her. But she needed a specific reason to be pissed off at the woman Hvitserk chose. At that was the most obvious one, and also the only information she had.

She didn't even need to concentrate, to know exactly which girl he had been with. Now that she knew she felt the traces of her pleasure lingering around Hvitserk.

The fact that it was Margrethe made it worse. Way worse. Because Angrboda didn't like her and the idea she touched and possessed what was hers sent her feral.

If she had a clearer mind, she would imagine that Margrethe was actually being smart, getting closer to the brothers. The faster way to freedom was clearly through their hearts.

But Margrethe chose the wrong brother.

And Angrboda wasn't in her right mind. Even blinded by jealousy that wasn't what tipped her off. She was still too shaken by her encounter with Loki.

Hvitserk didn't reply, as if he didn't have any words to give. But his guilt and his pride shouted loud enough.

Angrboda's eyes were so dark now. Her figure seemed to be surrounded by a thin, almost invisible shadow.

In her mind, formed an unconscious thought: she imagined him losing grip on his sword.

And then she wanted to see Hvitserk on the ground.

His sword actually fell and shortly after that, since he was distracted by his weapon slipping away, he lost balance. Maybe it was only because he pushed a foot backwards and didn't set his step properly.

Or maybe it was because she had wished it.

Angrboda followed him, taking advantage.

Like a frenzied beast, she climbed on his chest and threw a punch not caring about the pain that crossed her knuckles crushing against Hvitserk's jaw, but feasting on the fear and pain he felt instead.

And she wanted more. A devilish crazed took over her while all her emotions spiralled out of control.

Angrboda shouted to his face, no words, just pure anger, and resentment.

"You disgust me. Do you hear me?!"

"Angrboda-" Hvitserk tried to stop her, and as soon as his hands touched her, she moved hissing as if his palms just burned through her skin. "Do not fucking touch me. You lost that right."

Angrboda hit him again, this time, using the handle of her dagger, just to hurt him more.

And more.

She selfishly wanted more of his pain.

As she knew he was letting her. Hvitserk didn’t even try to fight back, indulging her anger and his own guilt.

A wild and fiery, dark fury gripped her heart. She wanted to give him the pain she was feeling.

Part of her knew it wasn't possible or necessary and that she needed to gain her control back. But it was easier to ignore her own thoughts.

Angrboda stupidly thought she had control earlier. And that simple training would do the trick to calm her.

She thought to distance herself from her parents to protect them, but never thought about the brothers safety.

All she needed was one of Ivar's pokes to become a beast not even she could recognize.

Angrboda lifted her axe in the air, ready to hit once more and the desperate panic that exploded in Hvitserk aura fed her thirst for chaos.

The more she would receive and absorb, the more she was hungry for blood.

That was the point one of the brothers intervened.

Angrboda plunged her axe, digging its blade deep in the ground just a centimetre away from Hvitserk's head howling like a beast, just a second before being heavily tackled away.

She didn't even recognize which brother scooped her up and forced her away from Hvitserk. But she still tried to fight to get away and go back to her prey.

A tiny rivulet of blood crossed her lips, falling from her nose.

She didn't even realize she was using her powers.

Was she?

It was a matter of fact, that Hvitserk didn’t even try to fight her.

"Angrboda that's enough!" Ubbe gave her a strong shake, bringing her to look at him.

And for a second she didn't recognise him.

That terrified her enough to make her stop moving.

The ice of his irises seemed to vaguely calm the fire that soared her soul.

She didn't try to fight him any longer. But she wasn't done.

Angrboda looked over his shoulder, straight to Hvitserk.

Her eyes were now of a clearer shade of green, but they still seemed to be stirred by flames.

As soon as Hvitserk's eyes crossed with hers, while he got back up helped by Sigurd, trying to control some of the blood that flooded his face with his sleeve, Angrboda spat on the floor.

"I hope she is the one." Angrboda's spiteful growl was a clear warning.

How much else could she suffer that day before snapping?

Or did she reach her breaking point already?

Ubbe aura seeped through her, detaching Angrboda's attention from Hvitserk enough to make her feel his awkwardness but sympathy towards her.

Even if he stepped forward and divided her from Hvitserk, he seemed to be angry at his brother too.

Angrboda tried her best to shut out his feelings, not interested in knowing his point of view.

She had to admit, though, that the further away she found herself from Hvitserk, the clearer her mind seemed to get. It was like if that barrier between her logical and wild side slowly lifted, letting her thoughts and feelings flow back together, like the meeting of tides.

Angrboda inhaled a deep breath finally visibly calming down, and Ubbe seemed to pick on that, loosening his hold over her.

Just when she thought she could try and put her thoughts back together, to analyse the damage she just caused - deserved or not nonetheless, a burst of laughter broke the tension.

It was driven by pure amusement and Angrboda didn't need to strain her abilities to know exactly who had those feelings - who was laughing, finding that whole situation funny. Ivar.

So, just when Angrboda thought she was gaining back control, a new shot of anger sent her blood on fire once again.

Quick like a lash of wind, she escaped from Ubbe's arms and charged. This time, her prey was Ivar.

For the first time in her life, Angrboda wanted him to shut up. Because for whatever reason he spoke up earlier, revealing Hvitserk's choices, she knew it wasn't for loyalty - but for his own entertainment.

No one moved to stop her, and Ivar just watched her come closer, proudly and boldly assuming she wouldn't have done anything to him.

And for the first time his way of being angered her even more.

Angrboda didn't indulge his expectation. She didn't stop or gave him just a threatening, angry speech. Not even a word slipped through her lips. She wiped the proud smile Ivar welcomed her with, with a slap.

The echoing smacking sound of her palm meeting his cheek broke in the training field - and everyone fell silent. Even the chanting of the wind.

Angrboda fixed her green eyes on Ivar and enjoyed watching him turn his head and lower his eyes. Even if just for a second - it was more than enough for her.

Angrboda's body vibrated in fury. She was still deeply shaken by her feelings and the darkness that took her hostage.

She thought it was time to leave. Disappear for a while. Maybe, after all, the forest hut was the only safe place she could have.

Maybe, it has been a mistake to leave in the first place.

She didn't say a word. Not to Ivar, or Hvitserk, or anyone.

She just turned on her heels, ready to march her way back in the deep of the forest and run away.

It wasn't safe for her to be around the brothers - especially for them .

She heard a heavy thud behind her, which Angrboda stupidly decided to ignore, thinking she already had enough for that day, but she couldn't ignore the sudden grip of a firm hand on her ankle.

The pull she received caught her off guard and took her balance.

Angrboda slipped and fell to the ground, with just a split second to see Ubbe taking a step towards her. It happened so quickly she didn't really have the time to think about anything.

She felt another pull, and then she found herself squeezed on the grass by Ivar's entire body weight. He crawled on her back, pressing her down.

"What is wrong with you?!" He snarled at her ear.

For a moment, she wondered if his concern was for her and her unnatural reactions, or if it was for himself and the position she took against him in front of all the brothers.

"No." Angrboda kicked and wiggled, trying her best to free herself from his hold. "What is wrong with you ?!"

"I was trying to make you a favour."

Angrboda jabbed him in the chest, and then again, on his side, doing her best to move him enough so she could free herself, but Ivar reacted quickly, and he was undoubtedly stronger than her.

He might not be able to walk, but dragging his weight around since he was a child gave him an immense brute force in his arms and torso.

So, Ivar moved, pinning himself on a hand as he lifted his torso and with his free hand grabbed her by a shoulder, making her turn on her back, not much caring about the fact that half of her body was still turned the other way.

Angrboda knew perfectly what to do to free herself. She could have kicked him, hard, in the legs - possibly aiming to do as much damage as she could. Or she could have stabbed him since she was still holding her dagger. But she wasn't so desperate. And she had enough grip over herself to control the thirst for violence that sent her crazy earlier.

Even if she chose not to hurt Ivar, she still tried to fight, punching and hitting whatever was reachable.

Until Ivar had enough of it and scooped her wrists in his hand, forcing her in a constraining hold with a grunt.

Ivar pushed her arms down, above her head, and squeezed on the thin bones of her wrists. The shot of discomfort that hold had on her made her lose grip on the weapon.

He leaned closer and looked at her. His stirred seas eyes were hypnotic. It was as if he was searching for something through her irises.

"Are you done?!" He grunted.

She didn't answer with words, but pulled her arms, trying to escape his grip.

Ivar just gave her a shake and kept looking through her eyes. The longer she lost herself in his eyes, the more her anger seemed to dissipate.

Which left room for her pain to grow and steal the show. It was almost as she forgot how much pain she felt. How much despair and fear her situation left her with. And now that her anger was slowly slipping away, like governed and calmed by Ivar, Angrboda was left there once again scared, small, and impotent.

Feeling so helpless and weak overwhelmed her and that pain just bursted, cracking her figure and soul.

Angrboda broke, lowering all her defences, and let Ivar see what anger hid until that point.

And she cried, like the lost child she was.

It was too much.

Not being able to love who she wanted.

Loki threats.

Death breathing on her neck.

The sense of betrayal she felt. And the guilt carried by losing control and actually hurting people.

Ivar let her free, sliding one arm under her back and pulling her in a hug. He even rocked her, quietly shushing her sobs.

Angrboda curled up against him, finding a refuge, in the warm nest his chest offered. She wasn't sure if her sudden feeling of temporary peace and safeness was because of that physical contact, or if it was Ivar himself.

But at that point, it seemed such a small detail not to matter.

Angrboda just cried. So lost in her moment, in her spiralling pain and fears, that she completely missed Ivar's look to his brothers and the smile he particularly reserved to Hvitserk; pure pride vibrated under his skin.

But she was far gone to perceive any of it, or the feelings of the audience surrounding her, for what it mattered.

Angrboda sat on the ground, overlooking the sea of grass of the vast irregular valley that divided the hunting cabin from Kattegat.

Her eyes moved around, absorbing the view and she inhaled the gentle wind, letting the fresh air cleanse her soul.

A fine layer of peace fell between her and all the brothers, after the chaos that exploded earlier in the training field. It was as if everyone was too tired and shaken to react in any other way but just accept what happened and move on.

She and Hvitserk didn’t speak again or even look at each other. They both made sure to stay as far away as possible from each other. Which was a wise and smart move.

Sigurd decided to stay by Hvitserk’s side, helping the brother recover and clean off the excess of blood – Hvitserk would still look beaten up, but at that point, it was a matter of damage control, before they found their way back to Kattegat and had some explaining to do.

Ubbe floated between them all, kind of trying and making sure everyone was ok and order was restored, ready to keep it that way.

As the protector he was, always trying to do the right thing, Ubbe decided to take the fall for Angrboda.

She watched him punch a tree, earlier, just to scar his knuckles enough so it would look like it was him, who hurt his brother in combat.

Because no one would have argued with them hurting each other. But if it came out that Angrboda was the one who lost her mind then she would have quickly found herself in a very difficult position.

And she would bet Aslaug would have resented her for hurting her son.

Angrboda sighed, lowering her head and squeezing herself between her shoulders. Those thoughts were enough to make her guilt crush her.

Let alone everything else that already broke her in the first place.

Ivar sat next to her, like a silent guardian.

He made sure not to leave her side since everything happened, but at least he let her have her peace.

More or less, all the brothers agreed not to let Angrboda alone after she lost her mind both in a violent uncontrollable rage and then with a sudden violent and uncontrollable burst of cries. For protection or supervision – it didn’t matter much which position they stood on.

She felt so empty, now.

Her momentarily peace didn’t feel like it would last. It didn’t even feel like calm itself. It was just lots of nothing flowing into her, while she maniacally tried to make sense out of everything, without managing to hold a grasp on any answer.

“Why, Ivar? Why did you say that, earlier?” She didn’t speak a word in so long, she didn’t even recognize her own voice.

Ivar remained quiet for a second. “You wouldn’t have wanted to know the truth?”

Angrboda shot him a look. “You think I don’t know how much you enjoyed stirring the pot? Please. Don’t pretend you were trying to be helpful.”

“Oh, ok. So, I like to be a bit dramatic sometimes – it doesn’t mean that I genuinely thought you shouldn’t know the truth.”

“I-” Did she? Or was it better to be ignorant? “How did you know, then?” Angrboda lowered her eyes, not sure she wanted the answer, yet questioning anyway.

“Because I saw them.”

“You saw them. Just casually?”

“Yes. As much as I saw Ubbe having sex with the slave girl first. I guess I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“With Ubbe-”

“Yep.”

Angrboda thanked the void that dug into her, because if her anger was still as tangible as before, she would have definitely lost her mind again.

Whatever Margrethe game was, and however smart it could seem, the thought she wasn’t even interested entirely, completely, just in Hvitserk made Angrboda want to break something. Possibly bones.

It was clear that Ivar chose his words and the truths to say carefully – not guided by a candid spirit and absolutely needing to say the truth. Possibly, with Ivar, it was the opposite. And she was too tired and too empty to be willing to investigate further on about why he knew who his brothers fucked.

Angrboda clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth. She didn’t answer any further. Her eyes just wandered on the valley in front of her, with her irises matching the colour of tall grass dancing with the wind.

“I know you’re close to Hvitserk – we all know. As much as I know you were with him last night.”

“And how would you know that?”

With her gasp and immediate defensive reaction, a smile crossed Ivar’s lips, while he gave her a look. “I assumed. And you just confirmed it. So yes, I thought you needed to know the truth.”

“I don’t think it was your place.”

“I don’t think it matters what’s my place, does it? And you know I do what I want anyway.”

Angrboda turned to him, shooting another glare. She wasn’t grateful, nor resented him. She was just unsettled. “I felt your pride and amusement, Ivar. I felt it towards my reaction. You were playing with me.”

He fell quiet and looked away. But his body language remained calm and relaxed.

Angrboda could feel his mind moving as his emotions form in his aura.

“I was angry at you because of how you left this morning. It pissed me off – and I am sure you know it did. I don’t like being cut out like that.”

“I had my reasons.”

Finally, some silence fell between them. It was awkward and surprisingly loud – but at least for a while, none of them said anything.

Of course, Angrboda's reasons to behave as she did earlier in the morning were valid.

Like Loki’s threat, knowing perfectly he would have stricken sooner or later. She needed to distance herself as much as she could from everyone. All just for a kiss and a resting hug with a man she wasn’t supposed to love.

Of course, she didn’t say anything about all of that. It was her burden to carry.

And the fact that Ivar ceased with his questions and assumptions for a while meant more to her than anyone would understand.

Ivar wasn’t the kind of person who would leave any advantage to anyone. He would take and take anything he could just to give him some sort of power over others. But he didn’t, now.

He left her space.

Angrboda sighed, freeing her lungs up of all their air and her mind of her thoughts.

She was glad he didn’t try to investigate any further, because he was too smart and would quickly think and dangerously risk to assume the right thing.

And her secrets with the Gods were not for anyone else to know.

If he guessed too close to know how things worked, then it was like she broke the sacred secret herself. And she would be held responsible.

After a few minutes, which felt like hours, Ivar broke the silence. Predictable. “I want to know one thing, though – do you love Hvitserk?”

Angrboda froze, thoughts and body.

Suddenly she became made of stone and a cold shiver crossed her back.

She didn’t even allow herself to think about the real answer and lied regardless because it was the only thing she could do. Afraid any other thought or answer would burn her alive. “ No .”

“No? Ok, I’ll accept it even if we both know it’s a load of horseshit.”

“What’s your point?” Angrboda snapped, turning towards Ivar.

It was to be expected to find him waiting for her with his usual annoying proud smile printed on his face. In his eyes glimpsed the usual sparkle of light that would mean he had a plan that was perfectly unravelling its events in front of him as he designed them. “I have a proposition for you.”

Angrboda just looked at him, waiting for Ivar to go on talking. He would have said what he had to anyway, regardless of her answer.

“I can offer you a way to get back at Hvitserk. If you still want vengeance for his disrespect, that is.”

Did she still want vengeance? Or was her violent outburst earlier enough to satisfy her and feed her guilt forever?

For some reason, the longer she looked at Ivar, and more his words seeded in her mind, the more she remembered the echoes of her anger towards Hvitserk.

“What way?”

“You could let me take you.”

Angrboda just sat there, looking at him. It took her a second to understand his words. And if his sentence could have some space for error, his look was unmistakable. His eyes burned with decision. But that was everything she could pick off his aura.

“ Take me . You want to take me.”

Angrboda broke in a nervous laugh, that slowly quieted down as soon as she realized how serious Ivar was about it.

He looked away, leaning his head backwards, letting the pale light of the sunset kiss his features.

“All my brothers went with a woman already. I didn’t. So, I want that experience too.” He spoke with softness and patience that seemed otherwise alien to his ways.

“You could have any woman you want. You are a Son of Ragnar.”

“Yes. But I want you . Did you ever take a moment to think about the reason why any of us didn't ever try to get on with you?”

“I didn’t pay attention.” It was the truth. She never cared. She never intended to have anyone's attention if not Hvitserk's, and she never looked for it from anyone else.

“Then you’re naïve. It’s because everyone thought you were Hvitserk’s.”

“I’m no one’s.”

“Precisely. How outrageous would it be, that I was the other one who had you, between my brothers. Uh? Can you imagine it?”

“Ivar-”

“I’ll be honest. I don’t want any simple woman, you know me, that wouldn’t be enough. But you. I would prove something. And you would prove something. Everyone’s happy.”

Angrboda remained silent, while his words moulded in her mind, making somehow sense.

He wasn’t wrong.

He could have any woman he wanted – and no woman would have ever said no to a Son of Ragnar because of the position they had in their society. But Angrboda wasn’t any woman, she had status, and all the brothers considered highly of her, clearly, or she wouldn’t stand where she is.

So she could understand where Ivar wanted to go with his plan and how much pride and respect – so to speak – he could gain.

But what about her?

Did she want to hurt Hvitserk so deeply?

Yes .

Was she that loyal to Ivar to do such a service?

Yes .

Part of her thought about the honour she would receive.

But would it be so great to cover the possible shame the other part of her could possibly feel?

Shame ? Of what ?

She was a free woman. A powerful woman. On the way to become a shieldmaiden. Her freedom stretched in every decision Angrboda could take. Even picking a lover.

And Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, descendent of Odin, was a man strong enough and worth more than any, to be chosen for that purpose.

Angrboda's spirit was suddenly moved to look at him, pushed by a force she didn’t recognize.

He met her eyes, and while she studied his features, seeing him under a different perspective now, she wondered how far he actually intended to push himself.

What was going on in his mind?

She even thought to herself, in a deep and hidden side of her, what could be the taste of his lips? A fugitive thought that was negated as soon as she recognized it.

She knew how deeply rooted her feelings for any brother were. Even with their discrepancies. But she never saw any of them as a lover, besides Hvitserk.

She wouldn't have let any of them speak to her so bluntly like Ivar just did. But of course, he was her exception. As for many other things.

And what an honour to be offered his virginity . A gift from a man who wouldn’t bound for anyone.

The wind carried the howling of a wolf that sang to her ear. It felt lost in space and time, coming from any direction and from nowhere at the same time.

Somehow she knew it was no wolf, but Loki whispering to her.

So used to feel his warnings, she almost didn’t recognize the strength and confidence the God just offered her.

“If that is your wish. Then I will accept.”

Ivar moved quickly, taking her chin between his fingers. The hold of his gloved hand was rude as he forced her to look at him straight in the eye.

His eyes were so blue, so enchanting, moved by a determination that made her tremble.

“Tell me you want it.” His pride spiked in his soul.

He clearly didn’t want her to be docile and compliant, but to choose. To choose him .

And she knew he wanted to hear those words even if they didn’t mean what he wanted them to mean. But Angrboda obliged anyway. "I want you to take me."

Ivar answered her just with a smile that shined bright reflecting his ego, like his eyes.

Absorbing the wave of such a powerful feeling was overwhelming. She knew he would get absolutely drunk in it, basking into the idea of what he just obtained. Won , like a prize.

She wondered if that was his plan from the beginning. If that was what he aimed to do all along. Or if he was truly willing to give himself to her just to help.

Angrboda didn't have any way of knowing. Sometimes Ivar was too difficult to read, because his emotions could mean everything and nothing at the same time.

One thing was sure. Angrboda just felt like she made an unbreakable promise. An unchangeable choice which she felt in her blood and bones, could change everything.

She wondered if Loki would curse her for that as well.

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majesticwren · 2 years

Text

The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 13k. Trigger Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Loss of Virginity, Slight Fluff, Mostly Angst. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics .

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie@miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 11 - A Touch of Destiny.

Some days passed by, which Angrboda spent peacefully with Floki and Helga, at the cabin in the woods.

She spent her time helping her father finishing up building the ships for Bjorn's fleet, and her mother gathering materials for any necessities met during their journey.

Every night, Ragnar would join them, and Floki and he would tell stories around the fire making Angrboda feel like she was a child, with eyes full of wonders and a heart able to dream about all those tales of glory and distant places.

It was nice. Everything felt so normal. Angrboda's routine had a tranquillity even she didn't recognize.

For a few days an extremely calm energy surrounded her, and she enjoyed every second of it, absorbing it deeply into her being. Even if she didn't trust it. Trust was a difficult feeling to have, those days.

The Gods were quiet and left her space. The fairies chanted and the wind carried its distant songs, with no unbearable omens to be heard.

All the energies around her seemed to be balanced. And she wondered how could life feel if it was always like that. Just simple, even for people like her.

The entire world around her felt just a bit steadier, and day by day, the ground she stepped on seemed more and more solid.

After what she has experienced in the past week, Angrboda felt blessed by that peace. It was like a cool bath after days spent rolling around in dirt and mud, but for her soul.

Day after day she just felt healed. Slowly growing to be even happy, the more the anger that consumed her a few days back left its hold on her and disappeared.

At least for the most part - there were still great things dawning upon her, and she knew that beautiful, blissful moment sealed in time and space, wouldn't have lasted forever. She still felt the omens carried by the Seer words and Loki's curses weighing on her shoulders.

But they felt far away enough to let her breathe a little.

Of course, it was nothing more but a temporary break from her duties.

She could not say the same about her dreams. Every night, many visions would come and hunt her in a mixture of what was past, present, or future, and just oneiric. Though they would all seem and felt so vivid, that tell the difference between a vision and a dream was still hard enough. In all honesty, Angrboda didn't have a meaning or will to decode her own dreams and understand which was which, and what was the meaning of everything.

She felt so distant from her duties and the realization of the path set in front of her that every morning, she took the wise decision to interpret her dreams as such, and nothing more.

All her dreams were confused visions of moments and memories blended randomly to the Ancient One's words, of which Angrboda could still not make much sense of - but for a few things.

As for her visions, Angrboda seemed willing to put her life on hold even on the Seer omens. Another wise decision she took, was to take her sweet time to ignore it - at least for a while, at least since it seemed all so irrelevant there at the cabin.

She did her best to get as far as possible from Hvitserk and Ivar, and their whole situation. Both physically and mentally. Yet they still find and tormented her, every night. Her every dream or vision contained them as well. But that shouldn't be surprising with what happened between them.

But she accepted it as a tolerable toll to pay to have a bit of peace.

Even when her dreams would take an unexpected and uncomfortable sexual vibe, waking her up startled, in the middle of the night, feeling desperately guilty, or desperately uncomfortable, or desperately sad, or desperately longing. All depending on the scenarios or the subjects. Or just her mood.

Because for clear reasons, Angrboda was trying her best to push those thoughts about Hvitserk away every awake second. And for clear reasons, she was also trying not to give too much thought to similar fantasies about Ivar.

Yet they were still there, waiting for her when she fell asleep.

But Angrboda chose once more to put her life on hold, and just enjoy her tranquil, simple, easy existence - pretending there was nothing wrong and nothing to worry about.

That she was just a girl. And those were just dreams.

Soon though, sooner than what she would have wished for, the day came.

The day of Ivar's calling.

When he said he had a plan in his mind for their union, he wasn't lying.

It was a fairly easy message the one she received, to show up after sunset at the fishinghut close by coast. And it was even delivered by a messenger. It was the first time Angrboda felt so important to have a messenger delivering her the word of another.

Still, besides everything, Angrboda was waiting for that moment. And she was ready.

Just after dusk as instructed, she arrived at yet another cabin in possession of the Brothers'. It was once used by Ragnar to retreat to himself and hide with all the strange creatures and wild animals he liked to have around. Now, the Brothers used it more or less in the same way, but with fewer oddities.

It was small and had all the commodities of a liveable home, built with wood planks that weren't put together with the same consideration a house to live in would deserve, but it still held pretty well, considering it stood there for years and years.

The cabin was East of Kattegat and found its bearings on the coast, in a corner of the fjord where the waters were shallow and mostly calm. Its position meant that mostly the Brothers would use it in Summertime, to get away from Kattegat, and especially if they fancied going out fishing.

The sky was turning dark, with its beautiful shades of oranges and pinks quietly and quickly leaving space for the night. The brightest stars already shined through those colours; it was easy to foretell that the sky would have been filled with them, that night. Especially that far away from the lights of Kattegat.

The air felt dense and humid. It fizzed with the buzzing of the energy of a day just passed by, which was praised by the fairies in their calm chants.

Upon arriving, Angrboda looked around appreciating that view and inhaling the air and its brackish scent.

More than everything, she absorbed the calm energies that still surrounded the world, like the ground would absorb the heat of a Summer day.

She wondered when that peculiar feeling would shatter, leaving space to raw panic, fear, and violent anger once again - as it happened recently. Or, maybe, she thought that everything could be just normal, as usual, unchanged and not at all special. But because of the powerful and dark feelings she had been bombarded with in the past week, then normality felt just so special, even when it was not.

Angrboda pulled Ulfrún reins, bringing her loyal grey mare to slow down her pace. She leaned in to caress her horse strong neck, receiving a happy whinny in return, definitely, her horse was enjoying the view and that change in scenery feeling her same calm.

They slowly crossed that last piece of land. The closer one would get to the actual coast, the more it became fragmented by a multitude of more or less thin streams of water and shallow ponds.

Angrboda had to admit that place was beautiful, with its view; especially that time of the day. And part of her wondered if Ivar picked it for that reason specifically. Maybe because he liked it. Or if it was just a place like any other, but far enough from Kattegat to give him space.

Those thoughts were immediately followed by her wondering if they would have had time to talk. Maybe later? It's been a while and Ivar was still her friend.

But as soon as Angrboda put any thought into that later, an underline of panic starter to grow under her skin, making her being shiver.

Later. After she would have given herself to Ivar the Boneless. It wasn't a matter of who, she already established what an honour it would be and what sort of advantages she could possibly receive from it.

It was the simple fact that she was going to give herself to another man. Not Hvitserk. And the idea was terrifying. It shook her bones both in such a cold and hot shiver, that was more than enough to kick her anxiety in and give her a whole new load of doubts and possibilities about consequences and regrets.

More than anything, besides the human matters that could involve her, and her relationships and everything of that sort. Angrboda wondered if she would anger Loki once more, and how dangerous the consequences, in that case, would be.

Was it a test design specifically by the Trickster? Was it all a game, just to see how she would react? Was it to test her loyalty and faith once again?

Or was she free to take that decision?

She wondered about it since she and Ivar made their agreement, since she heard the howling of a wolf carried in the wind. She wondered about it since she later kissed Ivar, feeling the chains that always held her down break.

Was it a test just to see how far she would go? To see if she would dare to push herself all the way?

Or she actually had freedom, regarding her affairs with Ivar?

And if so, of course, it was more than natural for Angrboda to wonder why. Why were her hands tied by such tight, unbreakable chains with Hvitserk and everything she did around him, but not with Ivar?

For a while, she imagined Loki could be angered by her choice in a companion regardless of who they might be. Besides her affection for Hvitserk, it was one of the main reasons why she never took time or interest in finding someone else.

But then she made the decision to go with Ivar and nothing happened. And she kissed him and nothing happened.

So, why?

Why were the Gods dead quiet now?

She wouldn't complain. Yet her questions didn't disappear but just grew.

Angrboda wondered if she would have found answers later. Surely, she was more ready to face tremendous consequences, than anything else. And for her loyalty to Ivar the Boneless, she would have taken the risk.

Angrboda was distracted by her thoughts when she finally approached the cabin.

Ubbe stood there, arms crossed to the chest and proud icy eyes pointed at her. He had the look and posture of a guardian.

Angrboda left her horse near the wooden fence close by, together with the other horses the brothers owned, and was greeted by the eldest.

"You came."

"Of course I did."

Ubbe looked back at her for a long second. His aura spiralled and moved, shifting through various emotions: he was concerned, but also almost overwhelmed by brotherly pride, there was a touch of anger, but much more need to be protective. Even if Angrboda could not say of whom. But if she had to guess, it must have been towards Hvitserk.

Just the idea of crossing his path made her shiver. For once, Angrboda didn't want to feel his aura. But she could feel him, the warmth of the Sun that came from inside the cabin was enough to betray his location.

"Some of us didn't believe Ivar when he told us. And some of us hoped you wouldn't show up." Ubbe gave her such a meaningful look, which now took away all her possible concerns about who the older brother was worried for - and it was definitely Hvitserk. Making her also understand the point of view of his younger brother.

Through his aura, Angrboda felt the resonance of deep and dark jealousy and anger that wasn't Ubbe's, but that he carried around - like traces of a contagious disease.

Angrboda lifted her chin up, suddenly filled with pride. It wasn't their role to speculate about her or care so much about her business.

Besides, she was allowed to choose whomever she wanted to share a bed with - despite the possible anger of the Gods.

"I think some of you should mind their own business."

"You will break his heart. You know that, right?" Finally, Ubbe addressed the real problem, and Angrboda had to admit she respected him for it. Just straight on truth and protectivity, instead of whatever bullshit Ubbe decided to feed her at first.

She then nodded and shrugged. "He broke mine too. So, we are even."

They weren't. Because she was the one that actually hurt Hvitserk the most, but that was beside the point.

"Are you doing this just for revenge?! Using my little brother for-'' The assumptions Ubbe voiced immediately mixed with his emotions, stirring the automatic reaction one like him would have. To protect someone loved, anger and violence were the way. They were all born and groomed into that belief, because physical strength was a primal instinct for survival.

She couldn't say she didn't understand his point of view. But she still took great offence in his words, for what they meant, for the way Ubbe, of everyone, decided to depict her - even just privately, even just for a moment.

She stepped closer raising her head and looking at him straight in the eye. Their difference in height didn't matter. Angrboda inhaled a big breath of air, and her nostrils vibrated in subtle anger. "I care about Ivar more than any of you could ever imagine or understand. Do not insult me - if I just wanted to make Hvitserk jealous, I would have fucked any other man."

"I hope for you, that you know what you're doing. I don't doubt your honour, Angrboda - and we all know what it means to be the Sons of Ragnar. And you know I don't doubt my little brother's honour either. But this is different."

"It's none of your business, though."

"I know that look on your face. I would never justify what Hvitserk did to you - which is why I let you have your moment and punch him because he deserved it. I'm just trying to understand."

"What are you trying to understand?"

"I didn't notice you were this close to Ivar."

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Next time I will make sure to announce my interests loud and clear so you can all know and speculate about it, then."

"Angrboda-"

"Ivar is waiting for me."

"He is. And I am talking to you."

Angrboda sighed, then shook her head, looking away. She bit her tongue, imposing herself not to argue more and for no reason, not then and there.

She raised her hand, placing it on Ubbe's arm looking back at him. She gave him a squeeze, leaning her head on the side. "We will talk. I promise."

Besides his doubts, Ubbe's respect and affection for her were clear. So, he nodded to her words maybe deciding to if not to trust her, at least giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Angrboda nodded back in response, and the two looked at each other in the eyes for a second longer, as if they were making sure the promise was made or received.

Then, she finally left him moving around the house. Her steps were firm, but their sound seemed to bounce back in the air louder than they ever been before, echoed by the fairies in the distance.

She took a breath in, and time seemed to have slowed down.

She now owed an explanation to Ubbe. But she wondered if all the Brothers felt the same doubts he felt... And she realised there weren't so many other brothers left to consider their opinion. Sigurd would still have hated her, and he would possibly become even more bitter.

While Hvitserk... Well, she was aiming to break his heart. So, deep down she hoped that would be the final consequence she would get from him.

Sigurd stepped out of the house. His head hanging low, and his face was livid. Yet he still had the courage to look right into her eyes and offer a wicked grin. His bright green eyes shined with their usual cunning light, clearly not losing a chance to make a point. "I hope you will enjoy yourself."

Angrboda just sent him a frozen look, her facial expression remained unmoved and unimpressed. "Thank you for your concern. I think your brother can take very good care of me."

"Yeah? Which one?" Sigurd quickly tipped his head to the side, now his smile disappeared but his eyes still burned with the same sly light they had before, his deformed snake-like pupil seemed to move.

Angrboda didn't answer, even if a great deal of anger mounted inside of her, together with a shot of pain, Sigurd's words always had the power to cut right through her, even if she was strong enough to hide it, Angrboda managed to control her own emotions, showing her mention with nothing but clenching her jaw.

Sigurd smirked once again, nodding towards her. "I wonder who's next!"He giggled evilly, just passing over her, giving her a slight push with his shoulder.

Angrboda squeezed her fists, feeling the real need to hurt him, deeply. But also, she had to maintain control.

She sighed, taking a second to compose herself and then pointed her eyes in front of her, towards the door, ready to enter.

Seemed like the Gods decided she had to have a confrontational path with the brothers before she could do what she was summoned to do, because there was Hvitserk, who stepped out the door next.

But she should have expected to cross Hvitserk, knowing very well he was still inside the cabin.

Her skin immediately reacted in front of him, tingling but relaxing, exactly as it would happen when one would be exposed under the warmth of the Sun after suffering the cold.

Angrboda took a good look at him, thinking it has been a long time, and she missed him and his energy. She noticed his almost completely healed bruises and part of her was glad to know he was ok. But more than anything, she was struck on the spot by his ambered irises. Hvitserk looked at her and stood still for a second, while his aura suddenly spiked with a storm of mixed emotions. More than anything though, he felt pain and jealousy. He didn't reserve her anger, even if Angrboda knew he had plenty of it.

She felt like she faced a wall, and keep walking or even breathing, felt heavy and damn hard. It was like her ankles were strapped to some weights.

Going on, proceeding with that decision she knew it wouldn't have given her any chance to fix the consequences. Even knowing it was for the best, was the hardest thing Angrboda had to do. Especially under Hvitserk's eyes.

She broke eye contact, letting go of the air trapped in her lungs, taking a step forward, she thought she had to. Part of her even remembered what Hvitserk did, and thought he deserved it. Even if she knew it wasn't fair.

Hvitserk moved too, grabbing her arm and giving her a soft shake, he made her look up once more, locking his eyes to hers. The gold of his irises burned, and she almost felt it dripping inside of her, together with his light and emotions.

Her heart was already shattered but still managed to break even more severely. Besides the anger that brought her to accept Ivar's offer in the first place, and the pride she felt towards him, and the fact that now she thought it would be helpful, it felt like she was punched in the stomach by an invisible force just by how unfair life was.

Hvitserk squeezed her arm even more, and moved closer, but didn't say anything. The pain burning through his aura was enough of a clear message.

Angrboda thought to raise her hand and caress his face, a gesture that in her mind, as she saw it happening, would have the bitter-sweet feeling of a farewell.

But then she remembered leaving space for any sweetness and showing interest was too dangerous. It would leave space for variabilities.

So, her face remained frozen serious. She just moved her arm, forcing Hvitserk to let her go. Then, she didn't say anything and just looked away and moved, breaking that moment. Because that was the way she was supposed to act. Even if it hurt like hell.

Her skin could have been burned off completely and it would have felt better than the black, hollow void inside of her getting larger and deeper.

But that wasn't the time to think about her and Hvitserk and their relationship.

Not now, not just before she would have given herself to Ivar. She knew her focus needed to be elsewhere, or it would have been harder. And also, quite frankly, it would have been disrespectful in regard to Ivar. He didn't deserve to have her thinking about someone else the whole time.

Especially, because she could remember how easily she forgot about the world, between Ivar's arms. It was like a memory that found its home not in her mind, but under her skin. A memory that would crawl all around her, every time she took a moment to think about their kiss. More specifically, the fact that it wasn't a cold, impersonal act, but that it has been quite the opposite.

Angrboda finally found her way into the cabin.

Now, there were no more obstacles between herself and Ivar. And sealing their agreement.

She closed the door behind her, shutting the whole world out - and suddenly, everything fell into a weird, still quietness.

Every sound from the outside world felt so far distant. The fairies went quiet once again, and even her mind did. Everything that didn't matter with her and Ivar, was left out of that door, and it felt so strange yet so liberating.

"You are here-" His voice broke the silence, it was bent under a certain pressure, broken by a vibration that Angrboda could feel resonate even in his aura.

She felt Ivar's aura before having the chance to look at him. It danced on her skin, making her powers tingle and react to it, immediately absorbing his nervousness, uncertainty, fear, pride and desire.

She turned, finally looking for him.

A deep sigh left her chest as soon as their eyes crossed. Ivar stirred seas eyes locked with hers, trapping her soul, and she was now unable to move, or to think. All her worries seemed to evaporate, leaving her mind surprisingly clear and free.

He sat on the edge of the bed placed in the middle of the room, which was lit by an indefinite number of candles and a fireplace in the corner.

The cabin felt cosy and safe, yet its environment was frosty, like the energies spiking between Angrboda and Ivar.

Ivar truly looked and felt like he was surprised to see her. It was almost sweet, the fact that maybe even he didn’t believe she would actually show up. And it was also sad.

She was sure he showed a proud and invincible face to anyone else, but now, even more than how his aura could betray him, his eyes showed such vulnerability and hope.

Like his voice, his body seemed uneasy, revealing his anxiety and awkwardness in the stiffness of the way he sat and how his shoulders were tensed.

Angrboda finally melted in a smile that she offered to him, bending in a hint of a bow. “Of course I am. Did you doubt me?"

He answered her with a big but nervous smile, which Ivar quickly tried to mask, tipping his head to the side, showing his usual arrogance. “I know you are not so stupid to miss such an occasion.”

Angrboda’s smile diminished, but she still nodded and found the courage to take a step forward. Then another, moving closer to Ivar.

What was supposed to be accepted to do, now?

Because of the warmth she experienced when they kissed, she knew they would have melted, sooner or later. Even if Angrboda had to admit, she was way more nervous now, than that past night.

Now everyone knew. And the word would have travelled fast. And maybe one day she would have had to give explanations. She wondered if her parents would have had something to say. If anyone would have had something to say.

Would people suddenly start to look at her in a different way, or a different light? Would it improve her social situation? Or worsened it?

Her relationship with Hvitserk was kept secret and just those close to them could assume they were or have been close. But Ivar wasn’t someone who would want to lay low, not on something like that. She knew it was also a matter of status for him. Another way to show he was like his brothers, and probably better. Another way to be proud and gain respect.

Because loved and respected or not, and besides the whole scepticism around her, Angrboda was still renowned. She was the daughter of Floki, and in their society, she had a good amount of fame. So, she wasn't any woman.

And that was what Ivar wanted. To show everyone he could do better. Angrboda didn't find offence in the idea he was using her and then showing her off as a prize. She thought he had all the rights to do so.

Even if she wouldn't have disliked him to at least pretend he wanted her specifically, just because she would have done her best to give him that kind of treatment.

Angrboda shrugged those thoughts off her shoulders, realising they were worsening her anxiety, and she didn't need any other reason to be nervous. She moved towards a side table, putting down her weapons. It felt strange to depose her axe and dagger, especially there. Not because she didn't trust Ivar, or because she felt unsafe. Just because her body felt ready for a fight, her muscles were tense and uneased, not having the familiar weight of her weapons on her felt strange.

She now wondered what Ivar was expecting her to do?

Was he ready to give out orders for her to follow? Or would he be compliant to let her lead?

Angrboda took a second to explore his emotions. Besides the pride and slight arrogance he might have had, it truly felt like he was just waiting, even more uncertain than her. She knew what was going to happen, at least.

When Angrboda turned towards him, she started to make a plan in her mind of what she could have done to make him feel more comfortable.

Ivar slightly moved, still so tense that the air around him vibrated at his position shifting. He placed his hand on a piece of fabric next to him, bringing Angrboda's attention to it for the first time. She frowned, wondering, but imagined he wouldn't have left any space to doubt - and she was right.

"I took the liberty of having a dress made for you." He tried to push out his voice to make it sound as strong and decisive as usual, but the awkwardness that coloured his aura was undeniable. Ivar widened his shoulders, still looking proudly at her.

Angrboda was genuinely surprised. "For me?" She wondered out loud. Why take the effort and time to do such a thing?

"Yes. I know you, and I knew what clothes you would have worn-" The look he gave her was such a clear hint to what he meant.

Angrboda didn't wear dresses, unless for an occasion. She wore trousers and shirts and leather bustier or vests, and she was always armed - even when she was wearing dresses.

She wasn't a common woman, but a shieldmaiden wannabe, raised for it, trained for it. Her soul carried the echoes of battles and her blood roared for it. A passion for fighting that she inherited from her father, the most loyal Drengr Ragnar Lothbrok had by his side.

Never in her life, she felt ashamed of how she wore her clothes, especially because it wasn't that uncommon. But now.

Anyone would have assumed Ivar was just testing her, for some reason. By the way he looked at her, the amusement that covered his expression was easily mistaken for nothing more but him wanting to manipulate. As if having her accepting to give herself to him wasn't enough.

But his aura was filled with too much respect and concern for the assumptions based on the character he showed to anyone to be true.

Not even the sparkle in Ivar's eyes and the smirk he pulled when looking back at her, covered his purer intentions.

And those were what she wanted to hear.

Angrboda moved closer to him never breaking eye contact. For a second, it looked like they were challenging each other. She stopped just when she was close enough to touch his face and pull his chin up. To that move of hers, a shiver shaked him, and something cracked behind his eyes.

"And what else?" She demanded to know more of his reasons.

Ivar was a difficult character. Who he was and who he showed to anyone were often two different people and the same. But Angrboda was lucky enough to know both his sides - the proud and the vulnerable, and everything that lived in between in Ivar being.

Anyone would have stopped to their first impression of Ivar, without imagining he had other motives. People wouldn't know straight off the bat that he could care for others too.

But he did.

And Angrboda knew.

Ivar held his pride high, but a note of sweet regard slipped in his eyes and aura while he looked at her.

The air filled with electricity, bearing the same tension a lightning storm would bring, as none of them showed any intention of letting go.

Angrboda was taller than him, because he sat on the edge of the bed. And even like that, she wasn't much taller than him regardless. But it was enough for her to impose her dominance, if she wanted. But they were also very close to each other. Enough to make her hold on her control slip.

Her mind wandered wildly to a thought she resented and felt guilty about as soon as it formed in her mind, still, it was there. The question of how much taller than her he could be if he could stand?

Angrboda's eyes slid on his lips, even if just for a second. It was more than enough to make her remember their kiss and how his lips felt. And how much he was able to melt her body between his arms.

It was easy to skip from there, to the idea - or was it hope? - that he could do the same once more.

She wondered why be so nervous and scared, when just a kiss made her feel more than she expected?

She looked back at him, just to catch his eyes doing the same, looking at her lips. The desire he suddenly felt seemed to lessen greatly his tension.

"Ivar?"

He huffed as if the idea of being sincere seemed heavy. But then, he finally spoke. "I thought you didn't have to be naked for me. That you wouldn't want to. So-" he quickly pointed at it, "there's a dress that you can wear. If you want."

Angrboda's heart slowly melted, under his eyes and to the sound of his words.

One of the many reasons why she was so close to Ivar was the fact that he had a big heart, hidden under all his pride and arrogance, and protected by an armour of darkness. But there nonetheless. And not so impossible to reach for her. He could be an asshole, prone to uncontrollable spikes of rage, as much as he could be gentle. It was rare, though, that people had the patience to wait for him to show that side of himself.

Angrboda just nodded, finally satisfied with his words. His was a noble act, and the fact that he thought about her being comfortable said a lot about how Ivar valued her.

Which was a thought that filled her with pride and confidence.

She took the dress, squeezing its material between her fingers. It was more of an undergarment. It felt incredibly light, nothing like the usual thick wool or kinds of cotton they would generally be made of.

Angrboda nodded, more to herself than Ivar, and left him to go change in the adjacent room.

She left her usual, comfortable and masculine gear, to wear what Ivar gifted.

Angrboda could not lie, it was a beautiful piece; the dress was white and made of thin material, more similar to a nightgown than a day-dress. Under the light of the candles, it seemed to be slightly see-through, clearly underlining the shape of her muscular body.

Between its side folds, Angrboda noticed the tear it had uncovering partly her right leg.

It had beautiful designs of runes and images embroidered around its wide collar, which fell loose on her shoulders. The runes had such deep beautiful meanings, and they were all an ode to Angrboda the Giantess. The runes of the Heart, the Oak and the Wolf were mixed to an intricate pattern representing leaves and flowers of the red oak tree, the mugwort, the agrimony and the henbane, as well as human hearts, acorns and even daggers. The used threads were of course of the themed colours of crimson reds, oranges and yellows, copper and golds, greens and, of course, black.

It was worthy of a princess. It was beautiful. Angrboda felt a bit out of place, wearing it. It looked like a fine present for a higher, more important occasion than what it was.

But she still liked it. With all her heart. It seemed specifically thought and made just for her. No other woman was entitled to it.

It was just a bit too big on her, and definitely its hem was too long. But it was undeniably hers. And Angrboda fantasised about how much thought Ivar put into it. Just the idea he went that far made her stomach tremble under such a weird emotion.

Wearing the white dress brought with it such a crucial and decisive feeling. It was like wearing her promise to Ivar, and her bound to her duties to him.

Angrboda felt really good in it, in its shape of privacy and respect, and cut of tribute to everything she was.

Angrboda quickly washed her hands in the fresh, cold water she found in a recently filled wide bowl. And then she untied and loosened her braided hair, letting their copper waves fall naturally on her back.

Before she went back to Ivar, she took a moment to look out the window. The sky was darker now, with its colours of deep purples and oranges scarring it quickly fading into the night.

There was no sign of the other brothers outside - which meant now it was just Ivar and she. And that idea made her both sigh in relief and gasp.

Angrboda returned into the main room, finding Ivar now sat in the middle of the bed. He was waiting for her.

He took his shirt off and untied the belts that tethered his legs in place, getting rid of his boots too.

Angrboda's eyes followed the orange lights on the warm tone of his skin and the game of shadows that danced on his muscles every time he took a breath.

Ivar eyes sparkled seeing her, betraying his desire and immense satisfaction in seeing how the dress fitted her. A feeling that immediately transferred to her, filling Angrboda up with a dark and twisted delight in recognizing that feeling in him.

She moved closer, slowly, without saying a word. Afraid to scare him. Because his nervousness was still so clear, filling the air with its tangy taste - if the shivers that crossed his body weren't enough. But besides how uneasy he could appear, his eyes were determined and filled with such a warm light.

Angrboda climbed on the bed and then kneeled next to him. And there, she stopped.

Her green eyes slid upon his figure, but her hesitation was clear. She kept her hands to herself because they were shaking. Her entire body was, and her breath too. Agitated by the anxiety of the idea that with sunrise, once they would have exited that place, they would both be two different people, walking two changed paths.

Once more, Angrboda thought about how deep and prolonged was the silence of the Gods. Especially Loki'. She wasn't able to understand if it was a good or a bad thing. But surely she could not trust that sign as an encouraging one, especially after everything.

As if she spoke of her fears out loud, Ivar interrupted her, pushing her thoughts away.

He sat up straight, suddenly looking for closeness. He surprised her, taking her face gently but firmly, between his palms and didn't hesitate into making her look at him.

Angrboda gasped breathless, both because of that abrupt but appreciated move, and because of how deep and intense the colour of his irises seemed to become. So much so, she felt his eyes in her soul. She could hear the roar of violent waves of the open seas, and the taste of beating rain mixing with salty waters on her tongue, and the feeling of salty winds beating her skin.

Ivar took a second to look at her face. Angrboda felt his eyes caressing her features. It was new, he never looked at her that way before.

"I need your focus tonight. Please. Don't go anywhere else." His voice sounded so soft and touched directly her heart. Angrboda nodded, knowing exactly what he meant with his words. To stay with him with her mind. Did she drift away without realizing it? "I won't. I am here."

"I mean it. I- You know how I get if I lose control. I wouldn't want to hurt you." His words started softly, and then firmly became more thorny, while they shaped in a subtle threat.

She knew what he was capable of. Ivar was a dangerous being and no one, not even her, knew how deep his darkness went. But they were both made of it, and she understood it better than anyone else could.

As much as she knew that Ivar threat was nothing more than another of his tricks to protect himself. Who would have wanted to find themselves in such a position with a partner busy thinking about someone else?

"I am here, Ivar."

Angrboda gently took his hand, placing it on her chest, above her heart and pressed his palm against it, just so he could connect with her. And she did the same, lightly touching his skin, flesh and bones above his heart, letting its fastened and strong beat fill her palm and echo through her bones. "I am here because I want to. Tonight I'm yours."

He inhaled deeply her words into his lungs, his eyes filled with such deep emotions. And not all of them were available to her. Not even with her powers. There was something hidden behind his grey eyes. Something like a secret that she was never able to spot before.

It chanted her, suddenly making her feel like she was placed under a spell in a faraway world, detached from their reality.

She was not Angrboda Loki-Kissed. He was not Ivar the Boneless.

And everything seemed to suddenly fall into place - the balance she felt had roots and reasons.

Ivar didn't give her time to investigate the matter any further, because he leaned in, sealing her words with a kiss.

His full lips were soft but hungry and demanding. It took her just a moment to catch up, but then she met his eagerness letting that thought sink in. She was his that night, and something deep inside of her seemed to wake up and stretch all around her body, giving her a pleasureful shiver just at the idea. His.

Ivar seemed to be a quick learner. The frost that surrounded him, much like the night they kissed the first time, already evaporated, and now pure fire flooded his veins. Angrboda inhaled his desire entirely, as if it was her right to have it. Because he was hers.

Ivar wrapped his strong arms tight around her figure, pulling her closer - and once again, Angrboda gasped. Up to that specific moment, she didn't realise how much she longed to be that close to him.

She didn't recognize her primal desire for Ivar - so used to perceive and see him as a brother. But he wasn't her brother, he wasn't even her friend now. He was a mate, a man, and she wanted him.

All her hunger needed, to wake up, was a kiss and a passionate embrace like what Ivar has given her, and her body now felt not her own, moved by such a need. Such desire.

She thought it would have been more difficult to find comfort and fill in the part she agreed upon. Instead, an unexpected fire exploded inside of her, consuming her being.

Was it desperation? Was it Ivar himself? Or just the freedom she found meeting him.

It did not matter.

Angrboda quickly slid her arms around his shoulders, pulling him tighter in their hug. She savoured the taste of his tongue in her mouth, again just now discovering how deep were her cravings for it. And she wanted more.

She passed her fingers through the short shaved hair on the back of his head, hooking them on the longer hair he wore on top of his skull. She pulled his head backwards, violently breaking their kiss. But didn't leave Ivar any space to object.

Driven by a dark magnetism, unexplainable but undeniable, Angrboda moved, throwing her leg above Ivar's and sat on his lap. Her movements were helped by the wide, open skirt of her dress and she felt grateful about it, and about how close she could actually get to him.

Once in her new position, she dove on Ivar's neck, devouring his skin in hungry kisses.

She didn't leave him time to be surprised about her moves, because his pleasure quickly burned through every other emotion he had. Ivar melted between her arms and his heavy sighs were like music to her ears, that fed her hunger, but didn't satisfy it, making it grow bigger and deeper.

Angrboda didn't stop. Her kisses mixed with soft bites on Ivar's neck. Feeling his skin and flesh under her teeth made those feelings inside of her grow and grow.

Her desire was galloping inside of her in an uncontrollable and violent way, similar to how her anger did when she completely lost control. And Angrboda had to lie if she now said to have complete control over her own movements and passion.

Those were feelings that slept inside of her for so long, untouched and unexplored. And now they roamed free, assaulting her in a violent tide of emotions and needs that felt dense on her skin, like if she was covered in wet heavy velvet.

Ivar's reaction didn't help. The soft moan he gifted her, was like fuel on fire.

He moved his arm, placing a hand on her naked leg and pressed his palm on her skin, squeezing as much of her flesh as he could.

Angrboda's back arched, bringing her to press her body against Ivar's, but when that didn't seem enough, she dared to move her hips, slowly rubbing herself against him, which shot sparkles of pleasure throughout every single nerve and muscle in her body.

Angrboda raised her head, looking straight into Ivar eyes. His stirred seas irises were devouring, deeply consumed by pleasure.

And she ate up every single drop of his emotions, feeling the darkness inside of him moving, and changing, and spiking in pure desire. She could feel it under her fingertips, on top of her tongue, in her stomach and between her legs. It grew and moved both inside of him and throughout her. Her irises went dark the more her eyes would fill with their mixed desires.

He wanted her.

He always wanted her. It was a newly discovered truth that she never saw before. Yet so clear under her eyes and hands now. Ivar was on the edge to give himself to her, body and soul.

And Angrboda obscure side was ready to have him - to take everything. It was selfish; pure, voracious greed.

She didn't lose time thinking about what all of that meant - she just knew that there and then, she wanted all. She was transformed into a primal being, her consciousness was left elsewhere, probably buried and silenced under her desire.

Ivar didn't leave her any time to think, exactly as she did with him earlier. He wrapped his free hand around her neck, giving it a firm squeeze. Angrboda gasped but didn't break eye contact, letting Ivar grab control of the situation, while he took charge over her breathing, and asserted dominance.

Her body trembled under his hold, with her need to find satisfaction increasing to the point her core seemed to spike in painful discomfort.

Though, almost immediately, Ivar copied her recent moves. He let go of his hold, just enough to slid his finger on the nape of her neck, where his fingers squeezed her skin and hair once more, while he struck. Ivar bit her neck, but his lips and tongue almost immediately followed, feeding off her skin. A shot of pleasure crossed her, but it didn't leave behind any satisfaction, just more need.

Angrboda arched her back, letting her head fall backwards sighing a soft moan, which seemed to encourage Ivar to go on and do more. This time, Ivar was ready to embrace her, wrapping solidly an arm around her waist. He pressed her body against his as if it was needed to accentuate their closeness and she immediately reacted moving her waist once more, this time, she was intentionally rubbing herself against his hips, causing him to groan. It was a deep sound that reverberated from his chest straight through her bones.

More. She needed more.

She almost growled in frustration, showing her teeth to the dense air around her, when she realized there were too many layers of clothing dividing them.

Ivar pulled back, and their eyes now met, their energies met and mixed once again. They were both two powerful beings. But now, their energies seemed to create something new and wholesome like a night sky that surrounded them and shined through their eyes.

"I never felt something like this before-" Ivar words were bent under his heavy breathing, but they were coloured by such a deep satisfaction in reaching something, a goal, that he clearly had wanted for a while.

Angrboda moved her fingers on his lips, caressing their softness, and then a strangely sly smirk appeared on her lips. Because she knew how new his desire was. And she was feeding off it in possibly an unnatural, improper way. Yet, it was hers. It was all hers.

She was a possessive being by nature. The idea her fingers just stretched over something that no one ever touched that way was inebriating, and she was ready to be intoxicated by his virginity.

The fact that Ivar had specific desires for her, and that she was responsible for his pleasure and awakening of his body just filled Angrboda with such an obscure pride.

She leaned in for a kiss, not leaving any space for softness now, just hunger.

Ivar mood suddenly shifted. She clearly felt his darkness spike and sting hers, while he decided once more to grab control.

He pushed her down, rolling on top of her. He pressed her on the mattress with his body weight and snarled against her lips, without breaking their kiss. If possible, he was driven by an even deeper hunger than hers.

Angrboda moved her legs, more than welcoming his hips against hers, and pressed her thighs against his sides, holding him, pressing his torso between her knees. As if she wanted to trap him there.

Ivar pinned himself up digging one arm in the soft mattress. He remained as close as possible to her face. He pressed his nose against her temple, taking in a deep breath. Inhaling her essence, made his aura spike once more, spiralling in passion. "Tell me how to satisfy you. Now."

Angrboda let her head fell backwards, melting like she was suddenly made of liquid under him. She bit her lower lip, trying desperately to trap a moan. But he didn't leave her any space to think or breathe. He leaned in demandingly kissing her neck and losing himself in her reaction.

Angrboda would have happily just let him go on. Wondering if he would have found his way to her chest, and breasts. And cursing against the dress she wore, suddenly deciding she needed to be naked. She wanted every available part of her body to be pressed against his skin. And she wanted him to see it all, to have it all.

She obliged to his wish though. It wasn't even a sacrifice, because her body demanded satisfaction.

Angrboda took Ivar's free hand and didn't lose any time, or felt any modesty, guiding his hand between her legs. Pushing the dress out of the way, she pressed his fingers against her dripping, warm centre. Her body was ready for him, demanding his attention and as soon as her flesh was touched, she sighed in pleasure. Angrboda moved under him, she kept his hand in position and rubbed her core against it, freeing a moan.

Ivar crumbled upon her, he released a moan himself, which vibrated through her skin and throat, all the way to the centre of her body.

Angrboda absorbed all the prideful pleasure touching her in such a private part gave him. To hold her satisfaction in his hand made his darkness spiral and surround her. It was like his aura had its own will.

He quickly understood what he had to do and followed his instinct, moving his fingers curiously. Angrboda arched against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and digging her nails into his skin, looking for a handhold, gasping to find relief, but wanting more.

And the more her pleasure grew, the more Ivar reacted to her, having his own desire becoming more and more hungry.

Angrboda suddenly jumped, deciding she had enough.

It was time. She wanted to be united to him, she felt the aggressive need to have him inside of her and there wouldn't have been anything else able to satisfy that need, now.

She firmly placed her hands on his chest, giving him a push and making him roll over, immediately jumping on top of him.

Ivar looked up at her with such a devotion burning through his eyes. Such desire. The more she absorbed it, the more she felt powerful, feeling her energy buzzing under her skin.

Angrboda decided to follow one of her desires and reached for her dress, sliding her arms out of its sleeves and making its collar slid around her waist. Showing off the pale skin of her breast and abdomen.

Ivar sat back up as if any distance from her was unbearable. He immediately closed his strong arms around her, just for a moment mesmerized by what he could now see. But not losing any time to explore her exposed skin. His hungry lips slid across her chest, following her shoulders and collarbones and once again, Angrboda melted between his arms. She held tight on his shoulders arching and rubbing herself against his body, looking desperately for release.

She didn't have any patience to wait any longer.

Angrboda pulled back, dividing herself from Ivar just enough to slide a hand down his torso. She curiously and bravely pushed her palm against his abdomen, driving her fingers against his abs and absorbing the brute force of his muscles. She didn't stop. She reached for his trousers.

A shiver crossed her bones, while her fingertips caressed the material of his clothes but she had a specific goal and when she felt his hard manhood pressing against her hand, a deep rumble of satisfaction and pure pride rolled off her throat.

Angrboda showed off a satisfied smirk, crossing Ivar’s eyes. He seemed surprised and breathless. But more than anything, it was the sudden deep pleasure that pervaded him to unleash her every primal instinct and move her to cross that barrier.

She was insatiable, crossed by thirst and hunger for everything. His body, his pleasure, his virginity, his emotions...

Angrboda led the action, and Ivar let her take all the control she wanted. Even just such a thing made her tremble in need to have him.

Ivar wouldn't leave control to anyone. Ever.

But she had it. She had power over him.

And it was inebriating.

She quickly slid out of her dress, enjoying being naked and more than anything, enjoying seeing Ivar's eyes moving across her body eating her with his burning irises.

His hands moved, pressing against her thighs, and moving across her legs, on her hips, of which he squeezed her soft skin in his grip, and then moved along, following the firm line of her muscles on her abdomen, moving forward on her breasts, scooping them up in his palms. Ivar leaned closer, trapping her lips in a hungry and extremely demanding kiss.

She almost lost focus, under his touch, but not completely, still able to proceed and untie his trousers. She didn't even have the patience to pull them down to create any sort of space. She just pushed her hand over their hem and grabbed his erection in her palm.

They both gasped.

The energy his sex had, crossing her palm, vibrating under her touch, was enough to lift her from Midgard and send her somewhere else.

Ivar pressed his face on her chest, whining and moaning softly to her touch.

The sudden, unexpected degree of pleasure that invaded his aura bent Ivar's body under her touch, and Angrboda thrived on it.

"Please-" He cried out. His voice was a soft whisper bent under the pressure of pleasure, which developed under his skin and grew bigger and darker, mixing to the energy of his soul, feeding Angrboda's.

He pinned his hands on the mattress, and when he lifted his own weight, and hers, Angrboda didn't need his words to understand he wanted to get rid of his trousers of which impairment was becoming too oppressing. She helped him but didn't have the patience to move far away enough to remove them completely. The space created sliding them down his thighs was more than enough.

She took a moment to look at him, finding such satisfaction in the sight of him uncovered, needy, filled with pleasure and hard for her.

There were no words, no thoughts, to describe what she thought.

It was primal. Urgent. A need that crossed the hunger of the flesh and mixed with something more. Like the resonance of something else... Perhaps similar to the feeling of a Deja Vu. Something that was supposed to happen so clearly she already felt it and remembered it.

Angrboda moved closer to him, keeping a firm hold of his erection, she found her position and then slid upon him.

Her body swallowed his whole lengths - she didn't give herself time to adjust to his size and ignored the shot of pain that almost brutal imposition gave to her flesh. Because the satisfaction of that union was indescribable.

Ivar let a loud moan leave his lips and immediately searched for hers, for another passionate kiss.

His body was shaken by a shot of pain that almost immediately became ineffable pleasure. More powerful than anything he ever felt. And he drowned in it, bringing Angrboda down with him.

She grasped onto his shoulders, digging her nails once again into his skin. This time leaving deep marks, not afraid to scratch.

Her body quickly adjusted to Ivar's and soon, every move of her hips created a wave of deep dark pleasure that pervaded her, just increased by her ability to feel Ivar's satisfaction too.

It didn't take long for them to reach the pinnacle of their pleasure. Ivar's was naturally quick and violent, as it would be for someone who was so new to that kind of trembling, intense, consuming feeling. When for her, besides the pleasure he was giving her, his orgasm dragged her down into obscure, dense and incredibly hot waters from where there was no escape. No air, no light available. Just pleasure.

Angrboda moved to look at Ivar, desiring to watch the exact moment he climaxed. She was eager to know the shade his irises would take, and what expression he would make bent under such pleasure.

Her eyes were now completely black, absorbed in darkness, wild and beautiful. And her powers vibrated with such energy to make the air around them shift.

She clearly felt her darkness grow and tie itself to Ivar's. Like their bodies, their souls seemed to find each other. The ground seemed to break around them, while she felt that shift in the air changing everything about their life. Especially their fates.

She knew for a long time their destinies were tied together. She knew she was bound to stand next to him.

But now it was different. Their souls were intertwined and sealed together.

The agreement they took in such a light way just became absolute, tying them to an unbreakable bond.

And Angrboda felt it happening. The World around her stopped spinning and reversed itself.

In such a storm of events and emotions, she felt clear as day and for the first time all of Ivar's love.

Love for her.

His feelings were blinding and wholesome. And true.

She never knew. She never felt it before. But now it was all there, openly shown to her in his devoted eyes and in the pleasure his soul exploded into.

Angrboda grabbed his face between her palms, feeling his pleasure unravelling all around her, and inside of her, with such violence to make her come too. She unleashed her pleasure calling his name and took a deep dive into his stirred seas irises. He held her tight, finding new, undiscovered and wild pleasure in feeling hers.

And while she looked at him, reality changed between her hands.

A vision hit her.

She saw Ivar's face change slowly. She saw his hair grow and change, and his features become more mature and prominent. His eyes would remain the same, but adulthood and wisdom shined through his irises. That wholesome look, so lost in devotion, never disappeared. She watched the soft skin of his face change and gain scars.

And she wondered about them. How would he gain them? Were they battle scars?

There and then, Angrboda finally understood. Ivar was darkness. He was what hid in the shadows. What she couldn't see before, because blinded by the light.

And her future laid there, between his arms. Her future was in the darkness with him.

Angrboda tossed her head backwards freeing from her opened lips a pleasureful call for Ivar's name, in the exact moment her body found release, exploding in an orgasm that shook her deeply.

She buried her fingers between his hair, clinging her thighs around his shoulders, while he ate her up.

His name danced on her lips many times that night.

Angrboda took everything. She inhaled Ivar's desire and pleasure, and greedily looked to satisfy her own, over and over again.

And Ivar seemed to have enough desire and stamina to satisfy them both.

He was an eager learner, determined and hungry to discover everything Angrboda had to teach. He was both generous and avid with pleasure. As much as he wanted to have control, he would lose focus and melt when Angrboda took it from him.

Their desire and pleasure kept feeding off each other, growing, finding relief and then growing again - not letting them find any peace.

Ivar accompanied the waves of her pleasure slowly kissing the inside of her thigh, and then moved away from her. He lifted himself up and proudly looked down at her. His grey eyes danced on her body and sparkled in pride.

His hunger seemed to have finally quietened down, like hers. But the warm shadows that bent his eyes were still able to make her tremble.

A tired but immensely satisfied smile stretched on Angrboda's lips, queueing Ivar's movement when he cleaned his lips and chin off her pleasure with the palm of his hand. She took immense enjoyment in the idea of marking him, as primal and animal-like that thought could be.

Both their bodies were now marked by each other's pleasure, their skin presented scratches and bites, and in places the reddened signs of kisses that went too far.

Angrboda took the chance he gave her to move. She slid off his hold, turning on her side to stretch. Her muscles felt stiffened and tired. But her body and soul were pervaded by such a calm satisfaction. Everything and everyone was quiet.

She would still find it so difficult to understand, not quite able to wrap her head around what happened that night and how deeply she was now tied to Ivar. She wasn't expecting to melt between his arms so easily. Yet she literally caught fire and burned wildly for Ivar. And surely, she wasn't ready to find his love waiting for her.

They grew together, always so close, always so alike. But never, she felt a hint of what he felt for her.

How long was it going on? Were his feelings part of the reason why he picked her that night? Were they consuming? Would have they changed everything?

More than anything did she, or would she, break his heart?

All those questions filled her mind, buzzing around in such a confused hum.

It was frustrating. She was used to being a step ahead of people and reading them thoroughly. But Ivar managed to hide something of that magnitude from her for possibly months, years even.

And of course, it wouldn't be something she could just freely ask about, knowing perfectly there was a reason why Ivar hid his feelings. And kept them hidden.

Even now, his aura didn't show them. There was pure satisfaction, absolute calm and wholesome tiredness flowing in and out of him. There was even a sweet trace of devotion. But his love didn't leave any trace.

Angrboda decided that she wouldn't have thought about it. Or analyse anything until the next day would come. Even if her mind was difficult to stop.

That night it was just them and everything was simple.

Ivar crawled closer to her, accompanying his movements following the line of her spine with kisses. And she immediately melted under his touch, purring like a cat and stretching under him, with not many energies to do more than that. And it seemed that he was finally too tired as well. Even if she had to admit, she wouldn't have been able to say no if he wanted more.

Ivar fell heavily between the pillows behind her. He remained close, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her even closer to him. A movement that Angrboda obliged to, finding comfort in feeling his chest against her back. She sighed, feeling his warmth sliding under her skin. Angrboda curled up there, enjoying the silence broken just by the sound of their breathing.

The air was dense. It carried the electricity of the deep emotions that connected them that night. Anrgboda could clearly see it's darkened energy and what looked like lightning crossing it every now and then.

Ivar gently moved her long hair, placidly kissing her shoulder and neck and she moved closer to him, sighing.

"You are a witch." He whispered to her ear. His breath was so warm and carried so much electricity to slide under her skin with those affectionate words. "You did bewitch me."

Angrboda smiled softly and then turned to look at him.

For a moment, she was distracted by his charming features. The violent memories of how pleasure bent his handsome face, making his eyes sparkle like lightning hitting the sea surface, appeared in her mind. It wasn't quite enough to awaken her hunger. But more than enough to make her stomach vibrate.

Would that have to be a new situation she had to get used to now? A soft spot for Ivar? An affection with no explanation, that would remain suspended there, frozen in time and space?

She raised a hand in the air, and moved her fingers in front of his face, caressing his aura without touching him. Her fingertips vibrated under his energy that was now connected to hers. Angrboda felt his emotions on the palm of her hand.

She felt his future promise to the World.

His future still promised great things. His soul vibrated under the power that one day, Ivar the Boneless, the Scorch of the World would unleash.

He was chaos and order. He was just and tyrant. He was evil and sweet. He would love and hate. Dualism would always exist inside Ivar, becoming stronger, and stronger. And hard to control. Sometimes definite, sometimes confused - like his being. But that was what will make him the great Ivar the Boneless.

Yet those seemed both such close and incredibly far away days.

And she liked the idea of enjoying that moment and living in their secret, being just a boy and a girl, at least for a while.

"Did I?" She broke her own train of thoughts, imposing herself to stop overthinking.

Ivar just nodded, leaning in for a kiss that Angrboda didn't refuse, finding it almost surprising how soft he could be and act sometimes.

Angrboda smiled against his lips, then pulled away and moved her hand on his face, caressing his jawline.

The look he gave her seemed to pulse under the surface of his eyes. It was the kind of look dedicated to a lover.

That look made her stomach vibrate, even if she was trying her best not to pay attention to why that happened. Still she liked to be looked at that way. By Ivar.

Even if she knew it wasn't acceptable or even possible. Whatever energy connected them now would have soon disappeared.

She was herself in love with someone else. Yet the idea he would share that look with someone else was infuriating. Imagining him having that look for another woman made her jealousy grow and quickly become trembling anger.

Ivar picked her gaze crossing his eyes with hers, bringing her back. "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere."

"Your eyes. They became darker. Where did you go?"

Angrboda dropped her feelings, realising it was stupid of her to go crazy for a future possibility that wasn't more than a hypothesis.

And it wasn't fair. She had no right to be possessive.

She sighed, lowering her eyes trying to escape from him. "What do you think will happen, tomorrow?" She asked, of course not answering his question.

Ivar let her have her space, even if he sighed as a first response and his aura spiked in a certain degree of annoyance.

Then he paid attention to her words and for a long second, he looked at her. "I don't know. I'm gonna guess nothing?"

Angrboda nodded, lowering her eyes and offering just a timid smile.

She knew that nothing was an understatement. They entered that room as two people and would have exited it being someone else. The world would be changed. Even if maybe just Angrboda could see it. It was more than enough. And it was terrifying. "I don't think so. I think-"

Ivar softly pushed his fingers against her lips, trapping her words there. He shook his head, offering a smile that contained such a sad shade to it. His eyes sparkled with the same bitter-sweet look. "It doesn't matter. When the Sun will rise, we will be back to our normal lives."

Angrboda frowned, not sure those were the words she was expecting to hear. They were what it was supposed to be said. How things were supposed to go. Yet, why was it so hurtful to think about it that way?

That was what she wanted. To go back to normality and use her actions as an upper hand to fix her life... Right?

Because her plan seemed to have turned on itself. Thinking about it that way felt like she was ripping something out of her chest.

"Is that what you want?" Angrboda searched for the answer in his stirred seas eyes but didn't find much more than honour, resolution and grim determination. She could see clear as day the sheer line of the shield those feelings rested upon.

He didn't answer for a few seconds, while a sudden blast of frost covered them.

She could feel his breath moving, and his thoughts agitating. More than anything, she felt the spike of sorrow that crossed him.

His pain was hard to take in. Especially now. Especially if she was not allowed to feel which emotions developed around it.

She knew many things and felt so much that night. Enough to change the magnetism forces around her. She even had a vision, knowing for a fact that their future was connected, and discovered part of the meaning behind the Seer's words.

Yet. There was something blinding her.

She knew reality was waiting for them both once the Sun would rise.

Ivar sighed and rolled on his back, breaking contact with her. He gathered his arm back, closing his hand in a fist and resting it on his forehead, while he just looked up to the ceiling. "I think it's for the best."

Angrboda felt his heart creak under those words.

What she wanted, Angrboda could not say. Not anymore. Ivar essence now filled her completely, body, mind and soul. She didn't have the space to think freely.

Yet, the idea of detaching herself from him felt unbearable. But even the idea of leaving everything and throwing herself into his arms, burning through whatever feeling connected them, felt consuming. And scary.

"And I also think that Hvitserk is a lucky man." Ivar's sudden words surprised her. She wasn't expecting to hear them. Surely she didn't expect him to mention Hvitserk.

Part of her burned in regrets, at the idea that she actually felt like she cheated on him. Part of her burned in pure anger because Ivar thought it was a good moment to call his brother out.

She followed him, turning on her side and pinning herself up with her elbow. At first, she didn't say anything, she just looked at Ivar, but he didn't respond to the calling of her eyes. So, she slowly placed a hand on his chest, hesitant but determined to remain close to him. "Why did you have to mention him?"

"Isn't he important? Isn't he the reason why you're here? And don't lie to me."

"He is not the only reason."

"But he is the one you want."

"We cannot always have what we want." Angrboda lowered her eyes, expecting to feel her tongue twist and burn under the weight of spoken words that were too close to the truth of things she could not say.

Yet, as the freedom she could finally taste in touching another man, her words seemed to flow loosely.

Ivar sighed, still not looking at her. "Yes. I know." His aura still bent under the bitter taste of pain.

Angrboda could not do anything else but feel pushed to amend it and help. Even if she knew she was probably not able to give Ivar what he wanted.

He loved her.

Even if his feelings were now hidden from her not leaving a trace in his aura but sporadic emotions invisibly connected to it - like that spike of pain he just felt, Angrboda knew. "I don't want to think about him now. And I don't want you to either."

Ivar showed a timid smile and squeezed himself between his shoulders. "Ah, it's ok. He will be there waiting for you anyway tomorrow. Isn't he? I just hope you two will sort your shit because it would be a shame if it didn't happen."

He finally turned towards her, crossing her eyes. He offered another sad, lukewarm smile raising his hand and scooping her cheek in his palm, ever so softly. "You deserve to be loved."

Angrboda sighed to his touch and words. She pressed his hand against her own face and turned just to kiss his skin. Her eyes were low, she was unable to look at him, but his words touched her more deeply than expected.

It was like he was holding her heart in his hand and had the power to protect it, or crush it. Either way, she would have crumbled. "It's not that easy, Ivar. I-"

"Make it easy then. Or don't. Either way. I will hurt him in unhuman ways if he dares to hurt you again." His voice was as sweet as poison and as warm as fire. The look he gave her was strong and decisive, dark, extremely dark. In a way that made her soul tremble.

It was a natural reaction, to take those words and that look as scary. She should have been scared. But the darkness inside of her purred and stretched instead, and her stomach filled with butterflies. She wasn't scared. Quite the opposite.

He just promised horrible things. And she liked to know he was possessive.

He softly caressed her cheek. "Thank you, for what you did tonight."

Angrboda gripped her hold on his hand, hoping the look she exchanged with him burned enough to underline her thoughts and words. "No. Do not thank me. It makes it sound so transactional, so impersonal."

"But it was." His words ripped her from the inside. Angrboda clearly felt something inside of her shift and tear.

It was, it was true. And it wasn't at the same time. She didn't have words or thoughts to define what exactly happened that night. But he lived inside of her, now.

"It wasn't. I am honoured to be the woman you chose. And I will always cherish what we shared."

It felt too soon to say anything else.

Angrboda wasn't sure what her own emotions on the matter were. She felt such a strong connection with him now. But was it real? Or was it temporary? Was it the inebriation of sex, or was it more?

It was more. As the Seer words and her vision underlined. But was she ready to accept it? No. Not in the cool but confused state of mind she found herself now.

Angrboda felt the sudden need to be close to him. She wanted to make herself small, and find her way into his chest, to hide there and sleep comfortably and protected, until life would have found them again.

She leaned in to give him a delicate kiss, not necessarily expecting anything in return. "What are you thinking?"

She moved her hand once again around the invisible layer of his aura, caressing it with her fingertips. Ivar closed his eyes, resting his head on the pillow - it almost looked like he enjoyed her impalpable touch. "Must be really stressful for you, not being able to see everyone's thoughts." His lips curved in an amused smirk.

Typical Ivar's behaviour. She wasn't even surprised he dodged her question, honestly. Which possibly just meant he was thinking about something deep, possibly hurtful, that he didn't want to share.

Angrboda sighed, shaking her head. "No. I'm actually glad. At least my mind doesn't constantly explode in a million voices."

Which wasn't always true. But she was definitely ok with her gifts being what they were. The ability to feel thoughts didn't interest her. "So, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's next. For me."

"You can do anything you like. Anything you put your mind to."

"I am just a cripple. What chances do I have? What possibilities?" The emotion that bent his voice, making it vibrate, and the pain he offered by his condition, feeling trapped in his own body, in his own life, suddenly stabbed her. He looked away, purposely avoiding her eyes.

Angrboda shook her head vigorously, moving closer to him. "You are Ivar the Boneless. Don't you ever think, not even for a second, not to be worthy."

He remained quiet. But the pain in his aura spiked and betrayed him. As much did his eyes, moving all around and not focusing on anything in particular, or the tension in his muscles and how uneasy his body felt. Angrboda moved closer to him. "The Gods have great things in store for you. Your future awaits you. You are a Son of Ragnar, you are a descendant of Odin. The world is there for you to grasp. Do not, ever, underestimate yourself, Ivar."

Ivar quivered at her words and then broke completely. He let his guard down while her words, full of truth and care, hit him right in his heart. His eyes filled with emotions, and his aura suddenly was overwhelmed.

He gasped, just a second before breaking in a cry of which hurt and endeavour exploded in the air and resonated through Angrboda.

She immediately was there to scoop him up, unable to leave him space, to make him feel like he was alone.

She pulled him in a hug and did her best to surround him with her small figure as much as she could, ignoring the fact that his body was way larger and heavier than hers.

Angrboda held him close, welcoming his head on her chest. She rocketed him gently, caressing his hair and supporting him, willing to be something he could lean on and cling to. She inhaled all his sorrows, hoping to take some of it away. "You are not alone. You will never be alone. Do you hear me? I will stand next to you."

"Don't s-say that."

Angrboda held him closer and rubbed her lips on his forehead, feeling their darknesses mix once more. She shook her head with intention, giving him a firm squeeze. "It's what I am bound to. You won't be alone. You're Ivar the Boneless, Scorch of the World, never forget it."

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majesticwren · 1 year

Text

something is happening,

The Trickster's Kiss <

returning soon, stay tuned.

I'll say it quietly because I do not want to scare my inspiration away, but I am working on it. I've picked up the editing process and intend to continue with the reuploads on Ao3/posting new chapters here on Tumblr. And I intend to take back the project.

in the meantime, enjoy the new fanfic banner that I made (Tumblr decided to fuck it up slightly but hey-) here's some useful links if you are interested:

Masterpost Playlist Ao3

P.S.: I just want to thank the Anon who sent me an ask about this fic recently. You made me think about it, so I started re-reading it, and here I am. I distanced myself from the Vikings fandom in the past few months, things had become a little too tight around here, especially with all the drama. Because of that I kind of forgot how much fun I had with this fic and how much I loved this project. So, thank you, and take care out there. ✨

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majesticwren · 2 years

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Editing The Trickster's Kiss means I'm re-reading the entire thing.

It started because of my OCD and need to dust and polish the project but the more I read the more I'm falling back in love with it.

I finally started to write a new chapter 🙌

#the trickster's kiss #my fanfiction #ivar the boneless #hvitserk rangarsson #angrboda flokisdottir #ivar #hvitserk #angrboda

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majesticwren · 2 years

Text

The Trickster's Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

A/N: I've been a bit absent from the scenes recently and for that, I apologise. Sometimes I have too much going on and I struggle... I haven't written a word in 3 weeks, just a couple of days ago I finally managed to finish the last updated chapter on my Ao3 version of this work, but it literally took me ages. And now... It seems like I can at least milk a few words? Maybe? ANYWAYS besides all of this mumbling, I thought to update the fanfic on this side too, since... I am clearly not updating it as often as I should be doing. :') As always I thank you for all your support 💕 I send you love ✨ Edit: this chapter has been edited.

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. And in her life, made of choices, and war, and magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 4000. Trigger Warnings: Mention of Injuries, Mention of Physical Disability and Muscle Atrophy, Slight Violence and Assault - Angrboda and Ivar Are Their Own Trigger Warning. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics .

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 6 - Bones.

( Gif credit to owner )

Angrboda stood in front of the door for a moment, looking over the room.

Ivar the Boneless laid on his bed, surrounded and covered in pelts. He seemed to be held in a peaceful sleep.

Approaching, Angrboda observed how his bare chest moved and listened to the sound of his breath.

The room smelled of redwood and leather.

But she could not find a trace of pain. Ivar’s aura was quiet and peaceful, possibly because of the veil of his sleep. But the air didn’t carry any leftover of the suffering she was ready to absorb.

“Ivar.” She sat by his side, gently calling his name. She needed to understand his situation before she could do anything.

Angrboda lightly caressed his forehead to feel his temperature. He felt surprisingly cool.

Ivar woke up, startled by her touch. In an automatic reflex, he reached for her wrist, pushing away her hand, pointing his green-grey eyes on her. His irises had the colour of stirred seas.

It took him a second to recognize her, but as soon as he did, his grip on her wrist became softer and a smile opened on his lips. “You finally arrived. Took you long enough. I could be dead by now!”

Angrboda shook her head. His humour lit a smile on her face. “For someone who was in great pain, you surely have a big mouth.”

Angrboda shifted, looking around. Her eyes moved on Ivar’s figure, looking for visible problems. Of course, his legs were covered. She well knew he was never comfortable showing them.

Ivar's smile grew, and his head dropped on his pillow, while he took a deep breath. “Ah, but who said I was in pain, uh?”

“Ivar.” Finally, Angrboda started to get a hint of what was happening.

She looked at him, crossing the physical barrier; his aura surrounded her, flooding through her own.

There was no pain, no discomfort… Nothing, more than his usual suffering.

There was, though, plenty of amusement. He found that situation… Funny.

Ivar kept eye contact, knowing perfectly that he could not hold any secret from her now, and that seemed to bust his confidence and entertainment even more.

“You devil!” Angrboda gave him a push, and then another more aggressively. “You! You cannot play with people like this!”

“Why?”

Ivar sat in front of her and grabbed her arms, stopping her. His eyes burned, as his smile did. He looked at her, studying her expression like she just did with his aura.

He liked to manipulate people and challenge them. She knew him very well. She knew he was mostly annoying, to others, for those specific reasons; but that was his nature, playing with people's minds made him stronger, more intelligent, more able to predict people's actions. Ivar had done that since he was a kid and became very good.

So good, in fact, that the Gods often whispered that his mindpower and manipulation were his greatest features.

And Angrboda, like anyone, could fall victim to his tricks at any point.

Like now.

She tried to pull away from his grip but didn’t apply her entire force.

If she wanted, she could easily free herself up, and bring havoc in the Hall. But she knew that uncovering his little game would put Ivar in a worse position. So, she kept quiet.

Honestly, she was more relieved than angry.

“You had me worried sick! I thought…”

“What did you think?”

Ivar was thirsty for information, always. It was clear from the way he looked at her and tipped his head to the side. Angrboda could see the tip of his tongue, between his white, exposed teeth.

She pushed him again, with no real intention of hurting him. But she knew, at this point, it had been a game. She wondered how extended his mind game was. Was it just for giggles? Or did he aim for something bigger?

“I thought you were hurt. Damn, Ivar, I was ready for the worst.”

“Good, that’s a good thing.”

Angrboda just looked him in the eye for a long second, and then pulled away from his grasp, shaking her head.

“You’re a bastard, you know that!? You shouldn’t play like that. Not with me.”

“Who says I was playing with you?”

A smart smirk appeared on his lips, and more desire for her reaction popped into his aura. He wanted to play, he seemed bored, or angry, or whatever feeling made him particularly interested in occupying his mind with that kind of tricks.

He was good.

And that was another reason why Angrboda would have not uncovered him. It was his greatest strength.

“You made me cross the forest, in the middle of the night! Gods, you… What am I supposed to do now!?”

“You could stay, and keep me company.”

A spike of loneliness betrayed him. Under all his cockiness, confidence, boredom, and curiosity. And even if it was just a fracture of his feelings, expressed in the worst possible way – as a spoiled child would do… Angrboda still could not deny him that.

“Couldn’t you say that, then!?”

“No one would have come looking for you if it wasn’t for an emergency.”

Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling, and shook her head, then, after a sigh, she moved quickly, giving him another push that made him fall backwards in the bed.

“Damn you. Everyone is worried sick! Your mother is on the verge of a crisis and you play!? Ivar…”

“Yes, yes… I know, blah, blah, blah… Keep the speech for yourself, spare me.”

“Never again, Ivar. Do you hear me?”

Angrboda leaned closed, taking his chin between her fingers, so he would look at her in the eye. “Never again. You can play with everyone. Not me.”

“Why? Do you think you’re any different?! I can play with anyone I desire to.”

“Not me.”

His smile slowly decreased, while he gradually absorbed the pride and decision that enlightened her green eyes.

So, he pushed her touch away, turning his head. A heavy breath left his chest, while his loneliness peaked once again.

It was difficult to understand someone like Ivar. Even more, to like him. Angrboda was sure that if she didn’t have her gift, if she could just see him as what he showed to everyone… Then she would be very, very far from being so close to him.

“You spoil all the fun.”

“There was no fun, Ivar.”

She didn’t want to say how many scenarios she had ready, in her mind. She didn’t want him to think he looked weak. And implying he could be… She knew it always was a mistake, because it could anger him.

Angrboda sighed, getting up and sliding her bag off her shoulders. She also laid off her weapons, leaving on the table the axe she always took everywhere, and her dagger.

“I will always be here. I will always come, whenever you call me. But I want to trust you, now and forever. So, don’t play with me. Your tricks don’t work on me and you know it.”

“Ok. I’ve got it. I wasn’t playing with you by the way. There was something else I wanted to see.”

“What?”

Angrboda opened her bag, starting to spread her things on the table. It needed to appear like she was working, or had worked, on him.

“I wanted to see if Hvitserk would do it.”

His words left his chest in a heavy breath – as if it was actually painful to be honest, but Angrboda appreciated it.

There wasn’t much else she could say on the matter, and… She could not expect Ivar to change his nature. He tested people, often.

So, she didn’t say anything, but a little smile appeared on her lips.

Ivar the Boneless was a difficult individual but besides all his flaws, she was just grateful to the Gods that he was fine and nothing happened.

“Ok. That’s good enough. Now, I will indulge and keep you company. But I want something from you.”

Angrboda turned, offering Ivar a smirk. She briefly thought that he wasn’t the only smart person in the room. But then she kept that thought to herself.

Ivar lifted his chest from the mattress, pinning himself down with his elbows. His curiosity took over, so he just nodded, impatiently waiting for her request.

“Since I’m here, let me have a look at your legs. It’s been a while…”

“No.” Ivar sharply cut her words.

A sudden dark and cold wall grew between them. Ivar froze, immediately looking away. His great deal of shame filled the air with a sour taste.

Angrboda knew how much Ivar’s legs brought him embarrassment; she could feel how different he felt.

Sometimes when he fell into some dark corners of his mind, his crippling situation would make him feel like a monster, a disgrace… Not as worthy as anyone else.

It was in those moments that Angrboda was grateful for his great, great confidence; because just that could save him.

She didn’t want to aggravate his embarrassment, but it had been a while since the last time she had a look… And she needed to know if there were any changes.

“Ivar…”

“I said no. Go back to your forest corner.” He snapped, bitter as usual.

But his aura betrayed him, as always.

Angrboda always wanted to scoop him up and show him kindness – not in a way that would address him as weak, not like a mother… But to bring, if possible, relief to his often tormented soul.

“Let me stay. Let me look the part. If tomorrow you will present the herbs compresses, it would look like I was here for a reason. Besides, you owe me. And… I never had the chance to check on your last wound.”

Ivar huffed. His face remained turned away, his eyes pointed toward the corner. He didn’t move. He was holding his breath. His discomfort vibrated in the air, silent but tangible.

But they both knew she wasn’t wrong.

So, he huffed and then nodded.

Ivar laid back, closing his eyes, and then didn’t move another muscle.

So, just then, Angrboda slowly moved closer with no intention of doing any sudden movements, not wanting to scare him.

She gently moved the pelts, uncovering Ivar’s legs.

He immediately froze, holding his breath. His hands squeezed the soft and warm cover of pelts that surrounded him.

Angrboda’s reaction was controlled and natural. It wasn’t the first time she saw his legs, and it possibly wouldn’t be the last. She was well acquainted with that sight. Her eyes contained the wisdom of a healer who saw worse. And the curiosity of a unique condition.

Her eyes respectfully caressed his deformed and fragile bones and his thin muscles.

Angrboda wasn’t scared of what she saw and Ivar never lost any degree of importance to her, just because of that unfixable, tremendous flaw.

She didn’t say anything. Because Ivar was a warrior, and his pride didn’t need reassurance.

She moved closer, observing the old scars that covered his discoloured, thin skin.

“How’s the pain?”

At first, he answered just with a grunt, but then pushed words out of his lungs. “Usual. No change. Some days hurt more than others, but always bearable.”

No human could walk the Earth every day with his amount of pain, and resist like it was nothing. But Ivar managed, always.

It was easy to think he would not have feeling in his legs – but that was wrong.

Angrboda hesitated a second before she touched him, and then she had to ignore the shiver that shook Ivar.

The pressure of his inflamed nerves crossed his skin, flowing into Angrboda’s bones. But she resisted, holding his pain, while she explored his deformed legs with a light but expert touch.

Angrboda studied his bones, easily finding their scars on every point they once snapped.

It looked like everything was in order. No changes. No new injuries.

His muscles were underdeveloped and still, stretched thin, but unchanged.

She nodded to herself, a tiny smile appeared on her lips, together with a relieved sigh.

“Everything appears to be in order.”

She broke contact, and as soon as her hand lifted from his skin, Ivar finally seemed to find some ease.

“I will apply a compress that hopefully will help with the pain, at least for a while. And then, I can help you furthermore, if you let me.”

“How?”

“I could massage your spine, ease the tension of your muscles and nerves. It will help, you know it does…”

Many would think the only origin of his pain would be his legs, but that was a wrong notion.

The stress he constantly put his back and arms under, to drag his weight around, could equally break him. And, fixing the nerves in his back would ease his leg pain for longer than otherwise.

She knew he felt uncovered and seen, like the nerve of an open wound. She didn’t necessarily want to sound as if she was preaching. But she knew how to help him, and for once he could let her.

“Ok. Do as you must.”

Angrboda didn’t have the time to feel victorious, because she heard the door handle creak.

By the time the door opened Ivar went back to an unconscious state, but he made sure to pretend that his breath was broken.

Angrboda stood up, turning towards the table, thinking it would be useful to pretend she was busy.

And the servant, the one she didn’t know, a blond girl with a slim figure and big, light eyes, stepped in.

She was hesitant.

Now, Angrboda had a moment to feel her aura. And her entire being was shaking, but not by fear; her emotions were all over the place.

She had a clear taste for ambition and thirst for freedom but didn’t appear too bright, or strong.

“The ale and hot water you asked.”

Even her voice seemed to shake.

Then again, Angrboda could not judge her, because she was lucky enough to be a free woman. And that girl… Only the Gods knew what she went through.

So, as a woman, she could imagine where her thoughts and emotions came from. Part of her even wished the girl could find what she looked for; she didn’t like the culture of slaves her people had.

“Thank you. Put the ale by the bedside, and the water by the fire.”

Angrboda didn’t pay too much attention to her, then. Thinking, the quicker she would do her task, the quicker she would leave. She started to gather some mint leaves on the table, getting ready to prepare her mixture, while the servant executed her request.

Suddenly, the room filled with a spike of disgust – the air filled with its bitter, stale taste, a stranger’s emotion that Angrboda felt on her tongue.

And she knew exactly from whom it came and why.

The servant behind her, shook in deep fear, dictated by the revulsion she felt once her eyes caught a glimpse of Ivar’s legs.

Angrboda slowly raised her head. Her entire body froze and filled with tension. Her first reaction was the immediate need to be protective, and like a wolf when its territory was invaded, she felt the need to assert dominance. Sudden rage mixed with her blood.

She turned, pointing her green fiery eyes at the other woman. Her movement startled the girl enough to break her eye contact with Ivar’s figure.

“What is your name?” Angrboda asked, her tone was controlled and low – but not any less intimidating.

She didn’t inherit her father’s height; her body structure resembled more the femininity of her mother’s. But she still had the looks and presence of a shieldmaiden. And the servant seemed to pick on it because, now, she kept her head hanging low, not looking at Angrboda.

“Margrethe.”

Angrboda just looked at her, for a long moment, then quickly moved her hand, signalling to the girl to move, and finish her job.

Margrethe seemed happy to accommodate her. Her steps were quick and her movements more mechanical than anything else.

Angrboda waited patiently as she finished her task - only to ensure she would have free hands and no risk of spilling anything.

She keept her eyes firmly fixed on the servant. As if she was prey.

And when Margrethe turned over, ready to leave, Angrboda saw her eyes quickly moving back on Ivar’s legs, just to then shoot back to pay attention to the floor.

Another shot of disgust filled the air.

Angrboda twitched.

She moved swiftly, grabbing the servant girl's arm and pulling it behind her back. Angrboda then pushed Margrethe against the wall, pulling her arm in an uncomfortable position of submission.

The girl gasped, and hissed, but didn’t try to escape her hold. Her sudden fear tamed her.

Leaning closer to her ear, Angrboda pushed her harder against the wall, willing to hurt her even if only a tiny bit.

“Eyes on the ground, Margrethe.” Her voice musically bent in a threat. “He is your master, don’t ever think to have the permission to look at him. Do you understand me?”

Margrethe's fear grew and shook her like a thin naked stem in the wind. But also, anger and insubordination sparkled all around her, that was a surprise.

Angrboda, though, wasn’t inclined into praising it. She pulled her arm tighter, welcoming her little squeak. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Remember your place.”

Angrboda let her go, stepping away as quickly as she did to grab her.

Margrethe took a moment too long to catch her breath, and her eyes raised, meeting Angrboda’s, making her resentment so obvious.

Angrboda welcomed her look with a smile, raising an eyebrow. “Now go, I don’t want to see you.”

Margrethe nodded, relieved to be dismissed, and she lowered her head, ready to leave.

“And make yourself useful, let the Queen know that her son will be fine,” Angrboda said just before Margrethe left the room – making sure to put enough emphasis on Ivar’s role in that society.

He was a Son of Ragnar Lothbrok. He was a descendent of Odin, and with or without his disability, he was one of the greatest men alive.

Angrboda then went back to her business, with her leaves and spices.

Behind her, Ivar moved – a deep sigh left his lungs and she felt his eyes on her back.

Feeling his wounded pride, Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling, huffing.

“What?”

“You overstepped.”

“Did I?”

Angrboda turned, but Ivar now avoided her eyes, looking away. Paying more attention to filling a horn up with ale.

His pride and resentment filled the room, and Angrboda understood him – or at least partly understood him. But wouldn’t stand entirely the kind of thoughts that filled his mind.

“I don’t need your protection. Your acting made me look weak. Do you think I’m weak?”

Finally, his piercing eyes crossed hers. His face froze in such a serious look – but Angrboda could see his mind moving.

Angrboda just stood there, looking at him. Then she shook her head. “You do not look weak. You never will.”

“She will now run around, telling my brothers what she saw, what you did.”

“And? If she oversteps, we will make her pay the respect she owes you.”

Ivar remained silent, but his anger remained tangible. There was a thick, dark cloud that surrounded him.

Angrboda knew he was thinking about possibilities, outcomes, and solutions – planning.

She knew the situation in that household was always tense, and Ivar had to work constantly and harder than anyone else to ensure his worth to people… But she would never stand silent in front of such a level of disrespect.

She decided that she didn’t like that servant – she was too zealous for her liking.

An unsteady and awkward silence fell back in the room, like a thick, heavy cover, accompanied just by the crackling song of the firepit and Ivar’s gulps while he drank his ale.

Angrboda went back to preparing the compress, patiently mixing the herbs with some water.

When it was ready, she proceeded to gently spread the vicious green mixture onto Ivar’s legs, trying to respect his discomfort. Once done, Angrboda wrapped his legs in pieces of thick fabric.

“Now roll over.” She encouraged him, nodding.

Ivar, though, remained still in his position, his eyes pointed at her, once again studying every single one of her expressions.

He kept his horn close to his face, tipping his head to the side. “Why don’t you behave like everyone else?”

Angrboda just looked at him.

She wondered what he meant. On a general basis? Or with him specifically?

Why wasn’t she constantly avoiding him, or scared of him, or mistrustful?

“Because I’m not like everyone else.”

It was a vague answer, yet full of meaning. There was nothing else Angrboda could say.

Because she wasn’t like the others, therefore she didn’t behave like the most.

Angrboda sat by his side, her eyes caressed, slowly, his features. “Is it so bad, for you, to accept I might just feel affection?”

“Yes.”

Ivar had a deep-rooted stubbornness to himself. It was easier, for him, to push people away than letting them close enough. And Angrboda already had a role that he considered dangerous – because he trusted her.

And that, to him, seemed like a weakness sometimes.

“Roll over, Ivar.”

Angrboda shook his feelings off her, shrugging, and then just sat there, expecting him to do as she said.

Ivar took a sip of his drink, and then obeyed.

While he found a comfortable position in the pelts, Angrboda moved, rinsing her dirty hands in the bucket of warm water by the fire. Then, she returned to Ivar, climbing on the bed.

Angrboda kneeled by his side and then, slowly and gently, started massaging his back.

Her hands moved firmly across that land of muscles and skin, skillfully, she followed the edges of his muscles and found the nerves which needed to be eased of tension. And once again, the silence fell between them, every now and then broken by Ivar’s sighs.

She knew he would have never admitted openly how much she was helping… But it didn’t matter, she didn’t need his words.

“Hvitserk said Ragnar came back.”

She decided to break the silence, bringing in a conversation she thought worth having, that might distract both of them from previous topics.

Ivar remained still and silent, for a second, and then he nodded, but didn’t answer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know…”

“I respect my father. To me, he will always be the greatest man: Ragnar Lothbrok, the mighty. I don’t care what others say.”

“What do other people say?”

“They say he is now weak – and that he betrayed us all… I don’t think he did. I think he did what was best for his people.”

“It’s easy to judge a man by a mistake.”

A spike of pride coloured Ivar’s aura and mixed with envy and anger. “I know he spoke with my brothers. I of course was forced to stay back – I couldn’t follow them. I know he asked them to go with him to England.”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I know they all said no. Ungrateful bastards…”

“Would you want to go?”

“Yes.”

Angrboda remained silent for a while. She knew perfectly that people would always underestimate Ivar. She knew people like his mother, even out of a place of love, would always try and protect him, she did it too sometimes, and they would cocoon him in a cage that a spirit like Ivar’s could never be trapped in, because it would mean absolute destruction.

Ivar had to bloom and grow, he had to find his way as a warrior, as any Viking. And he was destined to great things, especially because of his resilience.

“If it is the will of the Gods, then you should go, follow your path.”

“He didn’t ask me though. Even he doesn’t see me as worthy…”

Once again, she could not speak for Ragnar, but she knew that Ivar inherited his brilliance from his father – as Floki depicted the man, he was a strategist, as much as Ivar. So, she doubted he wasn’t acting by an agenda, even in something as small as that.

Angrboda leaned closer to him. “Then make him see you. Make him see how worthy you are.”

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