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autumnshighlady · 6 months

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I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 18)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: it's time to meet Beron

warnings: Night Court slander, anti Rhysand, MENTIONS OF R*PE/SA, BRIEF SA IMPLICATIONS (nothing graphic but it's still icky)

word count: 5.9k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: things are picking up again! more plottwists and turns hehe, i hope you enjoy this chapter!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 /

read on ao3

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Your wrists were sweating beneath the cuffs that adorned your wrists. Every inch of your body trembled, remembering the last time you had been chained up. It was necessary, you reminded yourself. Beron had to see you as a prisoner, as much as you hated that role you needed to look the part.

The servants had put you in a tattered gown and covered your skin in smears of dirt and grime. You looked very convincing, almost too convincing. Every time you glanced down at yourself, that cold, familiar feeling washed over you - the one that made your heart stop beating for a split second and left you wondering if you were back in Rhysand’s dungeons. The servants’ eyes were sympathetic as they tied the gag around your mouth as gently as possible, quietly offering you words of comfort through your tears.

Nesta and Eris were already in the throne room with Beron. They had been in there for a few minutes, but it had felt like hours. Two of Eris’ personal guards stood on either side of you - Saeros and Ivar were their names, they had politely informed you. You wondered how many other people in the Autumn Court were secretly loyal to Eris rather than their current High Lord. At the very least, it gave you confidence that Eris’s succession would go smoothly.

Saeros, a tall male with long brown hair and a stern face gently squeezed your arm. It's time, he seemed to say. You nodded subtly, understanding. After a deep breath, you began thrashing wildly in their grip just as the heavy doors to the throne room swung open. You kicked and rocked back and forth, screaming through the gag. The guards held you firm, dragging you across the ground towards the throne. You dared not sneak a glance to the right side of the bottom steps, knowing Nesta and Eris stood there. You focused on your performance, putting up a hell of a fight. Eventually, you ended up on your knees right before the bottom of the throne stairs. You forced your eyes upwards and were met with the sneering face of Beron Vanserra.

His slender face was twisted in a mix of disgust and glee. Ageing brown hair was too slicked back, reminding you of a snakeskin. His eyes were so dark brown they were basically black - bottomless dark voids of hatred that knew new bounds. A golden crown sat upon his head, a bright red jewel in the centre of it. Bony fingers gripped the sides of his throne, knuckles white. He was sizing you up like you were his next meal, and you tried not to squirm underneath his gaze.

“Consider this your Autumn Equinox gift from me, father.” Eris’s smug voice filled the room as the guards removed your gag. “One of Rhysand’s spies, (Y/N), was found at the border. She claims she’s fleeing from him, and is seeking sanctuary.”

Beron’s eyes gleamed even more. “Is that true?”

You gulped, forcing yourself to shake slightly in fear. “Yes, my Lord.”

“And why would you be running away from your master?” The male sneered. “I don’t believe it for a second, girl. For all we know, he sent you here to spy on us.”

“He did not.” You let the tears you had summoned fall down along your cheeks. “I swear by the Mother, my Lord.”

Beron rolled his eyes and huffed. He turned to Eris as if you were no longer there. “Why did you even bother bringing her here, boy?” He growled at his son. “This is not my problem. Send her back to Rhysand, or just kill her and be done with it. I couldn’t care less.”

“I have intel.” You blurted out, remembering the angle Eris had told you to play. “Valuable intel that could change everything. I will tell you everything I know if you give me sanctuary. Please, my Lord, I beg you.”

Something in Beron’s gaze shifted, as he seemingly contemplated the weight of your words. He paused for a moment before speaking. “You’re not from the Night Court originally, are you?” You opened your mouth to speak, but the High Lord cut you off before you could form any words. “I’ve been around long enough to tell which court someone belongs to, girl. The Night Court stench that clings to you is not very strong, so you clearly haven’t been there long. You stink of flowers, so I assume it is the Spring Court you originate from?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your eyes burned into the floor, and it took all your willpower not to glance at Eris and Nesta. They were so close, yet so far away.

“And how does a girl from the Spring Court end up as one of Rhysand’s spies, only to flee from him less than a year into the job?”

“My father was one of Tamlin’s closest advisors. When Hybern came, I was the only one of my family to survive. My entire village was gone, so I wandered until one of Rhysand’s spies found me.” You decided to leave out that it was Lucien who found you. “They took me in and kept me prisoner, my only way to have a chance at living a life was to spy for them in return for my life being saved. I trained under the Spymaster, and was sent on several small missions to Spring. I hated it, and wanted out. But one day I overheard something…” You shook your shoulders, letting your voice trail off.

“Go on.” Beron snapped with little patience.

“Apologies, my Lord.” You continued. You could feel Nesta and Eris’s gazes burning into you as you put on a performance. “The Spymaster and Rhysand spoke of a weapon, a Made weapon. One that the High Lord could use to claim the title of High King and take over all of Prythian.”

Beron’s face went red with anger, and you resisted the urge to chuckle. His hands gripped the throne so tightly you were surprised it didn’t shatter.

“Father, if Rhysand intends to seize that title–” Eris spoke up but was cut off.

“I’d sooner spend a thousand years being tortured in Hel before I kneel to that half-breed scum!” Spit was practically flying out of the High Lord’s mouth as he yelled, outraged. “I will slaughter him and his entire court before I let him take my own!”

You finally caught a glimpse of Eris as he left Nesta’s side and walked up the steps to his father. You willed your cheeks not to flush as you caught sight of him. His deep red tunic was clinging to his frame, a pattern suited for none other than royalty. His hair was pulled back in a simple braid, with a few loose jaw-length strands framing his face. Eris whispered something in his father’s ear, but he was so quiet even your fae hearing could not make out his words. Whatever he said worked, as he retreated back to Nesta’s side and Beron began to calm down. His face returned to its normal ashy colour as he settled back into his throne.

“Now, why would Rhysand becoming High King make you run away?” Beron asked, all too calmly. “Surely you’d benefit from it, being a member of his court after all.”

“Because when he found out I knew, he imprisoned and tortured me.” You didn’t have to fake the tremor in your voice this time as you recalled the cold dungeon.

“And yet you got out.”

“They let me out to complete a mission, and I used it as an opportunity to run.”

Beron’s eyes narrowed, and fear churned in your gut. If he did not believe you, then this was all for nothing. You silently pleaded for help, yet you weren’t even sure to whom. All you could think of was keeping your racing heart from exploding out of your chest.

“She’s telling the truth, father.” Eris piped up, as if he had heard your pleas.

“And how do you know that?” The High Lord’s voice was dry and bored, which worried you even more.

“I noticed fresh wounds on her back when I found her.”

“Show me.”

At Beron’s command, Eris stepped towards you. You met his amber gaze, which was stone cold. It lacked the warmth that had been present a few hours ago in the dining room. This was the mask that Eris had worn for centuries. You had never quite gotten used to it, to how easily he slipped in and out of his guise.

Eris nodded at the guards, who turned you around so your back was facing the throne. Before you could register what was happening, the prince’s slender hands gripped the neckline of your dress from behind and pulled. A loud ripping sound echoed throughout the room as Eris pulled your dress in half, exposing your wounded back. Shame rushed through your veins as you felt the cold air on your backside, which was clearly on display to the High Lord now.

You whimpered, not entirely for show as embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Beron stared at you for what you thought was too long before the guards turned you back to face him. “He did a number on you, girl.” Beron chuckled humourlessly. You could tell by his tone that he almost admired the bloody artwork on your back. Beron Vanserra was no stranger to amusement from torture - that you knew.

“My Lord,” Nesta’s voice spoke up like music to your ears. “You called me in here to display my powers, did you not? May I suggest we get on with it?”

You tensed at Nesta’s brazen challenge. It was stupid to speak to the male in such a tone in his own throne room, and you half expected him to simply scoff and smite Nesta to ash right there and then. But instead, Beron simply huffed. “Very well. Impress me, Nesta Archeron, and I shall allow you to marry my eldest son. If not…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence for it to be understood that it was a threat. For the first time, you glanced at Nesta. Her hair was neatly braided as usual, and she wore a dark red gown bearing the same pattern as Eris’s tunic. It had a high neckline and long sleeves, a thousand times more modest than anything in the Night Court. Yet it suited her, and brought about an elegance that enhanced her beauty even more.

Nesta only nodded, and the guards hauled you off to the side. Nesta took your place at the bottom of the throne, smoothing her skirts. For a second, her gaze fluttered to Eris, who gave her a reassuring nod. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. When she opened them again they glowed silver, and you noticed Beron sitting forward in his seat. Silver flames began to whorl around her fingertips, dancing like leaves in the wind as they scattered throughout the room.

Nesta’s entire body began to glow as more and more fire poured out of her. You glanced at Beron again, seeing panic in his eyes as the flames rushed towards him. They leapt over him like a wave, and it was only a few seconds before you felt another wall of silver fire headed towards you and your guards. Yet you did not feel any fear, only a deep sense of trust that whatever happened, Nesta’s flames wouldn’t hurt you. They cocooned around you, trapping you inside them but never touching you. Through the flickers, you could just make out the same thing happening to Eris, Beron, and everyone else in the room. Nesta had bathed the entire room in her silver fire, yet did not harm a soul. It was to exemplify control, to show Beron that she could manipulate the magic to do whatever she, or Beron, wanted.

The noise of the flames was not a harsh, crackling noise like most fires. It was soothing, like the tide of the ocean or the rush of wind on a summer’s eve. The flames danced and sang to you, a force so strong you could practically hear words emitting from them in an ancient tongue.

After a few moments, the flames retreated to Nesta’s side. Like a tsunami, they pulled in behind her glowing figure and arched over fifteen feet in the air. Everyone’s mouth was agape as the flames moulded and shaped themselves into a dragon’s head identical to Athariel’s. Nesta remained glowing at the base of the dragon’s neck, its head arching above her like a protective dog. She was completely and utterly still, as if her mind was both present and relieving the memories of an ancient god from a millenia ago at the same time.

You swallowed thickly, emotion overcoming you. Months ago, Nesta had been too afraid to summon even a flame. Now, here she was, shaping her fire into majestic serpents with full control over them. You were proud, but couldn’t help the pang in your chest. Nesta had faced so many challenges while you were stuck in a cell, unable to witness her growth. It was time you could never get back.

Without struggling, the silver flames retreated, fading into Nesta’s fingertips as they went out. When she opened her eyes again, they were their normal shade of grey. You looked around, expecting to see a room scorched. But there was no damage - the flames did not burn anything.

The room is utterly silent for a few minutes, Beron’s expression unreadable. Even Eris was shuffling on his feet, nervousness apparent. Finally, the High Lord spoke. “Consider me impressed, Nesta Archeron.” His voice was suspiciously kind, and both you and Eris blinked in surprise at the same time. “And consider yourself having my blessing for this marriage with my son.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Nesta said, bowing her head.

“Wonderful.” Beron clapped his hands together. “We shall have the wedding in two months' time, and (Y/N)’s wedding the month after.”

Every bone in your body froze. “What?” Was all you managed to stutter through your dry throat.

Beron smiled, an unsettling gesture. “I accept your request for sanctuary in exchange for information, as the intel you provided is crucial in the survival of my court.” He said smoothly. “Yet you seem to have a habit of bouncing between courts, so I will assure that you remain here where I can keep an eye on you. You shall be marrying Melgorm, my second youngest son. You are from a respectable family, are you not? You should be honoured at the chance to marry someone from a royal bloodline.”

You glanced over at Eris, whose mask had fallen entirely. His face was one of pure horror, panic settling over his amber eyes. You weren’t sure if you were still breathing, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You had heard stories of Eris and Lucien’s brothers, none of them good.

“Have chambers prepared for the lady.” Beron ordered the guards. “You will all be staying here as wedding preparations are made. This meeting is over. Congratulations to the happy couples.” The High Lord’s smile was one of pure evil and gloating as he drank in your distress.

You felt numb as the guards dragged you to your new chambers, locking the door behind you as you entered the room.

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

Over the next half hour, you scrubbed the dirt off your skin in the bath and changed into a soft, gold nightgown. You had hardly felt the scalding water, nor the harsh scrapes of the brush as you tried to scrub away the memories of that entire interaction. Every time you thought about Beron’s smiling face as he announced he was marrying you off, you felt ill.

You had not been naive growing up – you knew most marriages between noble High Fae families were arranged and as a result, often loveless at best. But you remembered the haunting fear in Lucien's eyes as he cried to you over the cruel things his brothers had done. You had accepted long ago that you would likely not marry for love, but this… this would be worse than a loveless marriage. It would be a whole new kind of torture.

As you sat lifelessly on the bed, a sharp gust of air swirled behind you, causing you to spin around. You yelped in surprise as you were met with Nesta and Eris. “Dammit, don't do that,” You hissed. “You made me jump out of my skin!”

You expected a witty comeback from Eris, but none came. His face was grave, and Nesta’s was filled with rage. They were both still dressed in their attire from the meeting. “I’m so sorry.” Eris blurted out. “I had no idea he would do that. I swear by it.”

“I believe–” You tried to speak but Eris continued rambling.

“If I had known he was going to do that I would have never–”

“Eris!” You practically yelled. “I believe you. It’s not your fault.”

The prince’s eyes were glassy as he walked around the bed and kneeled in front of you. He took your hands in his own and pressed his forehead against them. “Forgive me.” He muttered.

“Eris,” You said softly. “It’s ok.”

Amber eyes gazed up at you, even as his hands still tightly clung on to your own. He did not rise from his kneeling position. “No, it’s not.” He said. “You don’t know Malgorm. He is the worst of all my brothers. He makes my father look like a bunny rabbit.”

You felt the bed dip behind you and a familiar hand rubbed your shoulder. Nesta’s presence steadied you as she sat behind you, the warmth of her hand easing the shock from your body.

“Malgorm does not view females as people, but rather toys for his own personal amusement.” Eris continued. “None of his lovers have been his on their own free will. He does not hesitate to inflict pain on them, humiliate them, force himself…”

“Eris…” Nesta warned, her hand squeezing your shoulder even tighter.

“My point is, my father knows exactly damn well exactly what kind of monster his second youngest son is. I strongly suspect he wants to marry you to him because he hopes that he’ll kill you or just lock you away somewhere. That way he won’t have to worry about you becoming a problem.”

“So how do we stop it?” Nesta asked, her voice sharp like razors.

“We can’t.” Eris sighed, resting his chin on your knee. “Not while Beron is alive.”

“So then we kill him.” Nesta argued defiantly.

“If it was that simple don’t you think I’d have done it already? No, it takes planning. And time. Time to ensure that when I overthrow him, we for one, have a cover story; and two, have enough people on my side that there won’t instantly be a coup.”

You gently untangled one of your hands from his and then combed your fingers through his silky hair. “It’ll be ok.” You reassured him as you stroked the locks. “Plans change all the time. We just have to adapt.”

Eris sighed, closing his eyes and ever so slightly leaning into your touch. Nesta leaned forward gently and rested her head on your shoulder, sighing deeply. “This is bad.” She muttered. “This is really, really bad.”

“Yes,” You said firmly, heart fluttering at her and Eris’s closeness to you. “But we can’t change the past, so now we just have to figure out how to move forward. Eris, how much power is needed to take down a High Lord?”

“A lot.” The Prince mumbled.

“No shit.” You snorted. “Between the three of us, do you think we have enough?”

“Two of us.” Eris corrected. “You’re taking no part in this.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t trained your powers,” He said firmly. “It’s too risky to have you anywhere near this when it goes down.”

You scoffed, furious. “So I’m just supposed to stand by while you two risk your lives killing a High Lord? No, not gonna happen.”

“Dammit, (Y/N)!” Nesta snapped, silencing the room. “We just got you back. We’re not losing you again.”

You went quiet, tears welling in your eyes. You hated feeling useless, shackled down by your inability to be like everyone else. But deep down you knew they were right. Frankly, you weren’t even sure what you could do with your powers, let alone how to wield them. All you’d done is accidentally explode a mountain cave, and you didn’t even know what you were doing.

The Archeron sister inhaled deeply. “Eris and I will take care of Beron, end of story. Now, when we were still in the House of Wind, you said you had more planned for the Night Court.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Although frankly the rest of it was just vague ideas, I wasn’t even sure we’d make it this far to be honest.”

“Ye of little faith.” Eris chuckled, patting your hand. “So, little fox, what else is in this master revenge plan of yours? Was burning down the Inner Circle’s houses not enough?”

“No.” Your voice was firm. “That was just the beginning. I want to make sure their entire court knows how horrible they are. I want them to lose all their power.”

“And how do you plan on that?” The male beneath you asked, still resting his head in your hand.

You took a deep breath. You hadn’t uttered a word of this part of your plan to anyone, even Nesta. It had always seemed too big, too far away to be realistic. But it was here. You’d made it this far. “The women in the Night Court who don’t live in Velaris have suffered for too long.” You began. “I want to help them, to show them that just because their High Lord doesn’t care about them doesn’t mean others don’t. When Beron is overthrown, I need things in Autumn to change, Eris. I want this to become a court that’s safe for women, where they won’t have to worry about being mutilated or sold off like livestock.

“We can bring the Valkyrie training program here. Teach women how to fight and defend themselves if that’s what they wish. Create a village for females who have been traumatised by males and want to live in peace. Like the Library in the House of Wind, but less isolated. Once word gets out, we offer sanctuary to any females suffering – from Night Court or any court. Once the females start leaving Night, the males will turn on each other. The entire court will crumble.”

The room was silent for a minute before Eris spoke. “My dear, changing the ways of this court will take time…”

You cut him off. “No. That’s Rhysand’s exact excuse. You will be High Lord, Eris. Your word is law, and you can write and rewrite them as you wish. Anyone who opposes you can face the consequences. Make an example of those who oppose the loudest.”

“But then he’d be just like Beron.” Nesta protested.

“Beron used his power to enforce laws of hate,” You countered. “To make people's lives worse. You can use it to make them better, even if it's at the cost of some of the uptight males.”

You heard Eris chuckle into your leg, his amber eyes glinting. You yanked on his hair, not missing the way his throat bobbed. “What’s so funny?” You demanded.

“You’re just so sexy when you’re plotting revenge and the downfall of an enemy court.” Eris purred, rubbing your thigh ever so slightly with his hand. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, and you felt yourself heat up at the contact. Nesta chuckled, her sweet breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. With your mate behind you, her lips so close to your skin, and the silver tongued Autumn prince still kneeling in front of you, the room suddenly felt a lot warmer.

“Speaking of sexy and plotting revenge, there’s someone who I think could be of great use to this plan.” Eris continued.

Nesta frowned. “Who?”

Eris smirked, lifting his head and nodding towards the empty corner of the room. The darkness began to shift, familiar shadows curling to the side to reveal a dark set of leathers, accompanied by a pair of leathery wings and hazel eyes.

The Spymaster of the Night Court.

“What the fuck?” You practically yelled as Azriel stepped into the light. Nesta’s arm went in front of you protectively, her eyes smouldering.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Azriel said quietly, his scarred hands at his sides. “I’m working with Eris.”

“You… what?” You sputtered. Nesta was utterly still, like a lioness poised to strike at any second. While Azriel had refused to kill you and disobeyed Rhysand’s orders, you couldn’t forget how he grabbed you and put you in that cell. How you’d seen that dark side of the shadowsinger that everyone in Prythian feared.

“He and I began working together right before we rescued you.” Eris explained. “He told us where you were, and we began meeting in secret after that.”

“Why?” Your answers were limited to a few words, as you reeled with shock.

“Rhysand has been very shaken up by your escape,” Azriel spoke softly, trying to appear in the least threatening manner possible. “I wanted Eris to know if he was planning retaliation, so I’ve been reporting his movements.” The same mission he gave you to do on Tamlin.

“But… why? Why go through all of this for us?”

The shadowsinger shifted on his feet, swallowing thickly. “Because what I did… what I let happen… it was wrong. All of this was wrong, handled incredibly poorly on my family’s part. I know apologising will not mean anything, and it shouldn’t. I’ve done nothing to earn your trust, but I hope I can soon. I want to help you.” He glanced between you and Nesta. “Both of you.”

“You’re committing treason, Azriel.” Nesta said lowly. “Rhysand will kill you if he finds out.”

“He won’t find out unless I want him to.” Azriel said confidently. “And I can take care of myself.”

Eris piped up. “Azzy has been very useful to me. Rhysand thinks he’s spying on me, it’s quite ironic. We’re a fantastic pair if you ask me.”

The Illyrian rolled his eyes, but didn’t snap back like you had expected. Last you checked, the pair hated each other. Their allegiance was surprising, but opened up a whole other world of possibilities for getting into Night.

“I have something for you.” Azriel reached into his pocket, pulling out two neatly folded pieces of paper. “From your friends.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling Nesta do the same. You both missed Emerie and Gwyn terribly, and you found yourself plagued by guilt of leaving them behind. You grabbed one of the letters while Nesta grabbed the other, and began to read.

Nesta, (Y/N), Azriel told Gwyn and I everything. I am so sorry we couldn’t protect you, and it makes me sick to think about what Rhysand was doing to you, (Y/N). Things are going badly here – the training sessions have mostly been disbanded, Cassian is too unhinged right now to be around the priestesses. I think Rhysand is suspicious of us too, thinking we helped you somehow. I hope you’re both safe in Autumn with Eris. Azriel says we can hopefully visit soon, maybe we can move in with you guys haha. Thinking of you both, Emerie.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you looked over and saw Nesta’s doing the same. “Emerie said Cassian is….unhinged.” You said carefully, noting the female tense behind you. “What does that mean?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes shifted to Nesta. “There’s a lot on your plates right now, we don’t need to make it worse by discussing Cassian…”

“I would like to know.” Nesta said firmly, her voice monotone. You reached down and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

Azriel took a breath before replying. “He’s angry. Murderous. He would never hurt the priestesses, but he’s surrounded by a cloud of rage that terrifies everyone around him. He’s picking fights in the war camps every day, beating asshole generals half to death to let off steam. None of us can get through to him, except Rhysand. I fear he will snap and fly to Autumn to try and take Nesta back, he’s convinced himself she’s being held here against her will.”

“He can’t do that.” You blurted out.

Eris scoffed. “He can try. My father would love that, actually. The brute would be breaking a ton of rules and would be forfeiting his life by doing so. We won’t let anything happen to you, Nesta.”

You went to speak, but Azriel quickly shushed you. The room went still as tendrils of shadows scurried back to the spymaster. “Someone’s coming.”

“Here?” You whispered, confused.

“Yes, it’s your fiancé.” Azriel hissed. “Nesta, Eris, come here.”

Without a word, your mate and the Autumn Prince scurried over to the spymaster. He held out his arms, and Eris snorted. “You want a hug right now, bat boy?”

“Shut up. My shadows can shield us. Quickly.”

Eris rolled his eyes, but stepped into Azriel’s arm. Nesta did the same, eyes wide with panic. Shadows began to engulf them as they blended into the darkness. Within seconds, they had vanished entirely just as the doorknob began to turn.

The door swung open harshly, revealing a tall male who was unmistakably a Vanserra. He had a stocky build, a wide face with glowing amber eyes that were too close together for your liking. His red hair was short, slicked back in the exact same way Beron’s was. He wore elaborate armour that reeked with the faint stench of blood. Your blood chilled as he let out a sickly smile that reminded you of a demon. A golden tooth glinted in the candlelight, illuminating a white scar through his lip that spanned across the lower half of his face.

“Well, if it isn’t my lovely bride to be.” His voice was like a snake – smooth and charming, yet unmistakably dangerous.

“Malgorm.” You said evenly, standing up. You backed up, trying to put more space between you and the imposing male in front of you. That only egged him on more, as he took another large step towards you.

“The one and only.” He rubbed his hands together, sizing you up as if you were his next meal.

“What are you doing here?” You fought to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He shrugged. “I came to inspect my wife, of course. To see what I’m working with.”

Inspect. His choice of words chilled you. He truly saw you as an object, like you were a shiny new toy he was going to decide if he liked or not. There was a hunger in his eyes that scared you, one that looked like it was a bottomless pit, never satisfied. “I take it you’re a virgin?” He continued casually.

You lied. “Yes.”

Malgorm hummed in approval, walking around to your side of the bed. You stood your ground, despite every instinct telling you to run for the hills. When he reached you, he grabbed the neckline of your dress and pulled it towards him, eyes unabashedly going to your bare chest beneath.

Disgusted, you slapped his hand away instinctively, not thinking of the consequences. Malgorm let out a low growl and grabbed you by the throat, slamming you into the wall. Your head screamed at the impact, but your throat was too restricted to let out a gasp. He was like a feral beast, breathing heavily in your face like a hound salivating before a piece of fresh meat. He leaned forward, dragging his crooked nose along your neck and inhaling deeply. You whimpered – not in arousal, but in fear. You wanted to kick, scream, anything, but you felt frozen.

And Malgorm knew it.

He chuckled, biting your ear hard enough to draw blood. You winced as the liquid trickled down your neck. “I’m going to have fun with you.” He purred in your bleeding ear before finally letting you go just as the edges of your vision went blurry.

You fell to the floor, gasping for air as he turned to walk away. Your entire body trembled, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Until next time, my lovely.” Malgorm quipped before slamming the door behind him.

The second the male’s footsteps went out of earshot, the shadows in the corner quickly disappeared, Nesta and Eris shooting out from behind them like a rocket. Fury consumed Nesta’s features as she crouched down beside you and put a hand on your back. Her eyes glowed faintly as she spoke, and you noticed she was breathing heavily as if she had been struggling against something. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” She growled through her teeth.

Eris gently knelt on your other side and pulled a cloth from his pocket. He pressed it against your breathing ear while examining the forming bruises on your neck and the back of your head. It stung, but you barely felt it.

Azriel stepped forward, the disgust written clear as day on his face. “That’s who Beron is marrying you to?” He gaped, echoing your thoughts.

“Not if I can help it.” Nesta hissed, rubbing small circles on your back. “I don’t care what I have to do, I am not letting this marriage happen.”

“Neither am I,” Eris spoke cautiously, gently wiping the blood off your neck in soothing strokes. “But we have to be smart about this. We can’t just kill him randomly one afternoon, especially not before we deal with my father.”

You let out a sob, tears flowing down your cheeks. Nesta wiped them away with her sleeve, which only made you cry harder. Every time you thought you had escaped something bad, it only led to something worse. At this point, you were more scared of being held captive by Malgorm than Rhysand. At least you were pretty sure the High Lord of the Night Court wouldn’t rape you.

As Nesta comforted you and Eris tended to your wounds, you looked up at Azriel. You expected to see a look of disgust on his face at the sight of the three of you cuddled up together on the floor. Admittedly, you had no idea what to call whatever was going on between you all – you were mated to Nesta, who also had feelings for Eris, something you shared in common with her. Yet you felt no jealousy, no anger that your mate blushed whenever the male complimented her. You had assumed Azriel would find it strange, but there was no distaste on his features as he stared down at the three of you. There was something else behind his gaze, a mixture of regret, contentment, and something else you couldn’t place.

The shadowsinger’s deep voice filled the room, quieting your sobs. “I will help you get out of this marriage, (Y/N), if it’s the last thing I do. Whatever you need me to do, you only have to ask.”

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @

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king-of-the-underworld-hades · 4 months

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You could do It wednesday x male ivar the boneless reader (vikings)

The Boneless. (Male)

Ivar is the 3rd best Vikings Character(in my opinion) Bjorn Ironside 2nd, Ragnar Lothbrok 1st

^ by Abimanyu on pintrest ^ link

The morning light hit your face and caused you to wake from your slumber. You grunted as you sat up, grabbed your legs, and swung your legs over the edge of your bed. Grabbing your walking cane, which you kept by your bed, using it to help you stand. The cane was a black ebony wood with Nordic runes running down it, the handle was the head of a silver raven with sapphires as its eyes. You gritted your teeth and groaned as you stood up stumbling slightly, you inhaled before letting out a sigh as you walked to your bathroom. You leaned on your bathroom counter and looked in the mirror. You had slight bags under your eyes and your neck long hair was slightly disheveled. You changed into your usual street clothes running your hand through your hair you looked in the mirror you heard your dorm room doorknob turning Instinctively you grabbed the one-handed axe that you kept in your bathroom, and you looked out the bathroom doorway and saw the door opening. "It's me," the monotone voice of your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams was heard as you sighed and put down the axe. "You almost ended up with an axe in your head," you said, your Scandinavian accent slightly showing, as she walked to you. She leaned on the bathroom door frame her eyes scanning and studying you. "What's wrong?" She asked in her usual tone of voice. "Noth-" "Don't lie," she said cutting you off. You sighed and ran your hand through your hair once more. "It's just..." "It's Parents Weekend or for you the weekend your brothers visit. And in turn some of the army," she states as she grabs the fold-up chair nearby, opens it, and forces you to sit as she starts to braid your hair. "I'm aware that your relationship with your brothers isn't the best but you can't be as Enid says "A Debby Downer" because of that fact," Wednesday says as you sigh once more. Ever since you two met she was probably the only one who could read you. And when you two started dating she was able to know why you were upset. Whether it be, because it's Parents Weekend or it's the anniversary of your mother's death. Wednesday finishes your braids and walks around the chair to get to the front of you cupping your face. "I am aware it's hard to see your brothers. Especially, Bjorn, but you can't let that affect you, Every. Single. Time," She said looking into your directly into eyes. You nod silently before she leans down and kisses you softly, you kiss her back matching her softness and love. She soon pulled away and helped you to your fest handing you your walking cane. You took it from her hand as she grabbed your free hand before leading you to the Quad.

Most of the day had gone smoothly. You met up with Pugsley, Uncle Fester, Morticia, Gomez, and Uncle Itt once again. You spent most of your day with the Addams Family but then you heard the steps of multiple soldiers coming into the Quad. Many of the families turned to looks as twenty Vikings emerged and lined up shoulder-to-shoulder. Then your three brothers walked down the path. Bjorn at the head, Ubbe to his left, and Hvitserk to his right. You stood at the end of the row... staring... and waiting. All eyes were on you and your brothers and Bjorn was the first to speak. "ᚺᛖᛚᛚᛟ, ᛒᚱᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ,(Hello, brother)" he spoke in your native tongue. You simply kept staring at him. Not saying a word. Hvitserk was the one to break the silence as he walked past Bjron and grasped your shoulders smiling. "ᛁᛏ'ᛋ ᚷᛟᛟᛞ ᛏᛟ ᛋᛖᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ Y/N,(Its good to see you Y/N)" He said smiling. You smiled back. "You to Hvitserk," You said smiling until Hvitserk moved away leaving Bjron and Ubbe in front of you. "Well. Shall we sit?" You ask motioning to a free table. Bjorn and Ubbe both walked to the table Hvitserk followed soon after patting your shoulder as he passed you the soldiers soon following after. Letting out a sigh you felt the familiar cold hand of Wednesday cup your cheek. You looked at her for a second a small smile gracing your lips. "How was that?" "Good. You're keeping your anger under wraps," She said softly as she grabbed your hand and led you to the table where the other Vikings were. You sat down across from Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk with Wednesday to your right. Ubbe observed her for a second before turning to you. "ᚹᚺᛟ ᛁᛋ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ?(Who is this?)," He asked you before you could answer Wednesday answered for you. "ᛁ'ᛗ ᚺᛁᛋ ᛚᛟᚡᛖᚱ,(I'm his lover)" Your brother each looked at her surprised as you took a sip of ale.

The first day went fine but the second day was when all things went to shit. While conversing and eating with Wednesday's family you caught sight of someone... a blond blue-eyed woman. Anger surged through your veins as you stood up grabbed a knife and threw it at the woman barely grazing her shoulder before she could react to reach her axe in hand you tried to strike her but Ubbe got in your way stopping your axe and throwing you back with Hvitserk catching you. You tried to break free but both Hvitserk and Wednesday held you back as you screamed. "What the fuck is she doing here!?" The woman was still behind Ubbe staring at you and Bjorn checked the cut you caused. "Lagertha has every right to" "Bullshit!" You yelled cutting him off as you freed yourself from the grasp of your brother and girlfriend. "Y/N you need to forgive her," Ubbe spoke hand on your chest keeping you from getting any closer. "I can never forgive Lagertha for murdering our mother so how you, hm?" You asked as Ubbe shook his head turning away angering you more as you shoved him back. "Our mother! Of course, I'm going to kill her." "You can try," She said looking eyes with yours. "Oh, I will. That I can promise."

Reasonably they all left afterwards to avoid any further issues with you and Lagertha. You were sitting in your room sharpening your axe when Wednesday walked in. "Why did you never tell me Lagertha killed your mother?" She asked anger lacing her voice. "I thought you said no secrets." "It's not something I like to think about... it didn't matter to me because Hvitserk had said she stayed in Kattagat with no reason to leave. I don't know why she came," you said throwing your axe into the target across from your bed. "Doesn't excuse you for not telling me," She said as she grabbed your chin to make you look at her. "When my mother died and I found out it was Lagertha I tried to kill her. And failed. Over and over. My mother was a seer and said she would be cursed if she killed her," you said calmly. "I will kill her," she has no reason to even be although in your head. Wednesday sighed and caressed your cheek. "Let this be the last secret you keep. Understood?" You nodded as she climbed into bed with you putting your head on her chest and began to stroke your hair as your anger subsided.

#male reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #king of the underworld hades #viking #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson

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blakeswritingimagines · 3 months

Text

Wiping away their kisses

Ragnar: He'll laugh and smile, then he'll jokingly chase you around, trying to kiss you again, though he's pretty much pretending to put in any effort into it. Once he's caught you, he'll wrap you up in his arms, and kiss you on the neck instead.

Athelstan: "What are you doing?" He can't help but ask as he frowns at the act of wiping away a kiss. He is not happy about you being playful, especially when it comes to something as intimate as a kiss. He sees this as a sign of you not valuing the connection you have, and it bothers him.

Floki: His grin spreads wide at this like he's finding the situation hilarious. He lets his lips curl into a lopsided smile before leaning back slightly and playfully sticking his tongue out at you, teasing you. He winks and giggles, "I guess you're just not into it, huh?" His voice is teasing but playful.

Lagertha: She'll chuckle to herself, secretly entertained by the playful gesture. She'll lean forward and press her lips against yours once again, enjoying the feel of your skin against her own. When you playfully wipe it away again, she grins and says in a teasing voice, "I'll keep kissing you until you're too overwhelmed to wipe them away anymore."

Aslaug: She'll laugh after knowing it was a joke, and give a teasing look, then pull you close again and softly kiss your lips. She'll whisper, "Who said I was done yet?"

Bjorn: Is annoyed at first, but he quickly becomes playful and grabs your hands, preventing you from wiping away any more kisses. He leans in and slowly kisses your cheeks, lips, and finally neck. He'll release your hands and trail his fingers along your body, gently squeezing your hip before backing away.

Ubbe: A look of playful annoyance crosses his face. But that quickly turns into a devilish smirk. When you go to wipe away another kiss, he gently grabs your hands and pulls you closer so you can't.

Hvitserk: If you playfully wipe away a kiss, he would playfully pretend to be offended, then he would playfully grab your arms and pull you into another kiss while saying in a playfully playful tone, "You can't get rid of me that easily."

Sigurd: "What are you doing?" He'll laugh to hide his embarrassment and playfully reach for another kiss. He moves closer to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close. With one hand, he'll cup your chin and lean in close. He'll gaze into your eyes and gently kiss you again, taking his time and letting your lips softly brush against each other.

Ivar: He gives you a playful glare, letting his lips curl into a small smirk. "Oh, you're asking for it now." He leans forward, putting his hands on your hips, and starts kissing you again.

Halfdan: He smirked at the little trick you tried to play on him. He then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you passionately, deeply, and repeatedly as he runs his fingers through your hair, leaving strands of it disheveled as he does so.

Harald: He would look you in the eyes and smile, leaning in to kiss you again. He takes your hand and gently pulls you close. He'll whisper in your ear: "I couldn't help myself, darling - your lips are too irresistible to resist." As he kisses you again, more deeply this time, and gently bites your bottom lip before pulling away. He looks deep into your eyes and whispers again, "Let's not be play tonight, shall we?"

#ragnar lothbrok x reader #athelstan x reader #floki x reader #lagertha x reader #aslaug x reader #bjorn ironside x reader #ubbe lothbrok x reader #hvitserk lothbrok x reader #sigurd lothbrok x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #halfdan the black x reader #harald finehair x reader #vikings fic #vikings

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disasterofastory · 2 years

Text

The Wanderer (Ivar x Reader)

The Wanderer Ivar x Reader Warnings: nudity, Ivar is a stalker but we already know that

A/N: Dear Anon, I hope it’s close to what you wanted (I don’t remember Daenery’s entrance). Enjoy!

It's already late when you arrive at Kattegat. The stars glint in the dark sky among the black clouds. The heavy scent of the rain lingers in the air, mixing with the salty ocean. A goat cries out in the distance, making a few dogs bark in answer. Being on the road for long weeks can be rather lonely, so you really enjoy these small things. It reminds you of your own hometown. The view of the buildings is familiar and strange at the same time. The village has grown since the last time you have been there.

The loud noises of the feast and the burning torches help you on your way to the Great Hall. You slip inside the robust building without anyone paying attention to your cloak-covered figure. The heat of the fire slaps you across the face, warming you up in mere seconds. Your nostrils fill with the smell of ale and freshly made meals as you look over the hall through your lashes. Your gaze lands on the long table with Lagertha in the middle. The woman is still beautiful with her blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

You can still remember her deadly gaze on the battlefield. Blood splattered across her face. The heavy sword rose in her hand.

Making your way to the main table, you halt in front of the famous shieldmaiden. You watch her expression change as she tries to see through the shadow hiding your face. The soft lines of her face harden, and a scowl appears between her brows.

The Great Hall gets quiet behind you. A few of Lagertha's women reach down to their swords. Their eyes burn you.

A smirk pulls on your lips. "What do I have to do to get some ale here?"

You push the hood of your cloak back, letting the fabric fall from your head.

Lagertha's mood changes immediately. A smile spreads across her lips as she looks over your form.

"Y/N," she gasps, standing up from her seat. "I didn't know you would visit."

"I got thirsty."

Y/N, daughter of Y/F/N. The shieldmaiden. The Wanderer. The fearless woman who belongs to the dirt roads and stormy waves. Your name is well-known among the Vikings. Ivar heard stories about your battles even though you are barely a few years older than him. The warriors who were lucky enough to see you fighting say you are like a goddess among men. You are graceful and deadly. There is gossip about you taking the dead to Valhalla.

Ivar watches you sitting beside Lagertha. Ale sloshes on your hand as you grab the cup with too much enthusiasm. You laugh at your clumsiness, not caring about the liquid dripping down on the wooden table. Your eyes shine with warmth and a bit of ale as you look over the hall, smiling and nodding at the familiar faces.

"Who is she?" Hvitserk asks, looking your way too. Ivar doesn't react but listens closely to what Ubbe has to say about you.

"She is Y/N," Their older brother replies, and while Hvitserk stays in the dark, Ivar immediately knows who you are.

"I didn't hear about her," Hvitserk replies, and Ivar can't help but grunt in answer before Ubbe can open his mouth.

"Because you are an idiot."

Ubbe, instead of stopping their fighting, just smirks. His bright eyes are on his youngest brother, who still stares at you. There is an awe in his icy blue gaze, under the constant anger and defiance.

That's a no.

Ivar watches you drinking and laughing. He can hear your voice as you greet Bjorn with a mocking comment about his womanizer lifestyle. Their half-brother looks you up and down without shame, making Ivar's blood boil in his veins.

"Maybe you should introduce yourself," Ubbe says.

The brunette's frown deepens as he turns his attention to his brother.

You stay in Kattegat for a few more days, enjoying the delicious meals and the warm bed. Sometimes you even forget how comfortable it is to sleep in clean sheets and soft furs. You don't have to worry about wild animals or wilder people.

And there is something else too. Someone else.

Ivar became obsessed with you. The young man can't find the courage in himself to come to you, but he still doesn't waste a chance to watch you from afar. You can feel his eyes on you constantly, and you would be a liar if you said you weren't enjoying it. There is something flattering and exciting about being the center of the young Viking's attention.

You continue your way out of the cold water, not hiding behind your arms or the clean towel as you dry yourself. You let Ivar's eyes wander on your body, stopping at your breasts, lingering on your hard nipple, and continuing their way between your legs. Your skin is covered with long-healed wounds and scars. There is a history for each of them.

You are in the river, ready to get out when you feel it again. It burns your skin and bubbles in your chest with anticipation.

He is here somewhere.

You search your surroundings through your lashes, trying to hide the smirk that pulls on your lips when you notice his form behind the bushes.

After you get dressed in simple pants and a tunic, you grab your things and don't hesitate to make eye contact with the brunette. His eyes widen, but he doesn't back off as a frown appears between his brows. It seems like there is always a frown on his handsome but still boyish face. He doesn't avert his gaze as you get closer, even though the sway of your hips almost makes him surrender.

"You are Ivar, right?" You speak up when you stop in front of him. He sits on the ground, his useless legs tied together.

"I am," he answers. There is a defiant offense in his tone. He is angry at you even before you say anything. The young man is ready for it. He can already hear you mocking him and telling him to stay away from you. A creep. A cripple. A useless Viking. What may he want from a woman like you? A great warrior. A beautiful woman.

"Your brother told me about your… fondness for me."

Ivar opens his mouth to say something, but no words leave his plump lips. The soft skin of his cheeks changes into a lovely shade of pink as he looks away from you. He is embarrassed, and he hates the feeling. It makes him weak and humiliated.

"I'm disappointed you didn't come to talk to me," you continue, leaning down to cup his jaw.

His eyes snap back at you, lips apart. He doesn't want hope to take root in his chest, but your heavy gaze doesn't let him have any other option.

You are more beautiful up close. Your nose is a bit crooked from breaking a few times, and there is a pale line on your cheekbone. An old wound.

"You are?" He croaks out.

Your warm breath fans over his face as you speak. "I have to continue my journey tonight, but I have a feeling we will meet again."

Ivar's heart beats against his ribcage, and his blood drums in his ears when your lips ghost over his. The only thing that keeps him leaning closer is your hold on his jaw.

"Because you and me, Ivar the Boneless," you continue. "We are fated."

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

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literaryuppsala · 2 years

Text

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand.

Title: Another Taylor Swift song, I used ivy again and I am not sorry.

Pairing: Ivar x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ivar saves you in every way a woman can be saved.

Words: 6k(ish).

Warnings: Alright guys, bear with me cause we're going on a wild ride. Reader gets kidnaped by Harald and he tries to rape her (twice). Nothing happens cause our very own savior Mr. Ivar Lodbrok comes and saves the day. There's smut too, it's reader's first time, and it's Ivar's first time too, It's everything very soft. EXPLICIT, sex and violence, minors do not interact.

A/N: I deleted my other account (stylinsonliving) and all my works will be reposted here, any doubt send me an ask. Guys this is that scene in the Troy 2004 movie where Achilles saves Briseis, every resemblance is not a coincidence and every credit goes to Wolfgang Petersen, the director. My asks are always open: you can request a filthy smut, a relationship advice and my political opinion, I’ll answer to all of it. Feedback is always welcome and my mistakes are always mine.

The first thing you remembered from that night was the pain. As you were dragged out of your hiding place in the church your body drowned in the most excruciating pain you ever felt. You were pulled by your hair like you weighed nothing, that man would grunt like an animal, speak a language you didn’t quite know and look down at you with a scary smile plastered all over his face.

You screamed and struggled but as the seconds went by you learned that no matter how hard you fought you had no chance against him. Once he got tired of your shifting, he punched you hard on the head and everything went black.

A few hours later, the screaming woke you up, you found yourself bound to a tree while those same men screamed and laughed around you. As your heart started to race you noticed when one of them walked over to you, a creepy smirk on his face as he approached furtively until he was in front of you, one hand rested against the tree while the other held a cup. He smelled your hair, then your neck, dragging his nose against your skin while you tried to squirm away.

“Never been in between the legs of a christian woman.” He growled, bringing his wet finger to the cleavage of your chemise, then spilling the liquid on his cup over your breasts. “And I would love to be in between yours.”

He tried to kiss you but you bit his lip, strong enough to open a cut, his blood filled your taste buds and you spat down on the ground as he winced in pain, moving away a little and staring at you angrily. He quickly rubbed his opened lip with the back of his hand before closing it into a fist and punching you on your stomach.

You gasped. The strong man hit your face with more punches before signing to one of his friends to come close. They untied your arms then and dragged you towards the circle of men out there. They screamed like beasts, raising their cups and laughing at your pain. While one of them held your arms on your back, the other ripped your chemise in half, showing off your naked body to their hungry eyes.

“After I have my way with her, you can have her.” The same man who tried to kiss you growled while untying his tunic, but before he could do anything, another voice screamed from somewhere, putting everyone else in silence.

“Keep your cock to yourself, Harald.”

You widened your eyes, staring blankly over that man’s shoulder. Another man, a younger one this time, walked calmly from a hiding place deep into the woods. A small group of people, a few women included, followed him close behind.

“And why would I do that?” The man you learned to be named ‘Harald’ turned on his back and answered with gritted teeth.

“Because I told you to.” His smug face sent shivers down your spine.

“I don’t feel like doing what you tell me to do, Ivar.”

“You say that like I care about what you feel like doing, Harald.” He sighed. “I am very sorry If I gave you the wrong feeling that you have a say on this, because you don’t.”

“Don’t forget you’re out here on my back, little Ivar. The ships out there are mine, most of the men here are mine.” He grunted, grabbing him by his arm angrily. “And I am getting tired of you Ragnarssons stepping in my way.”

“And you have five of us to worry about.” Another insignificant head sign and four more northmen gathered around them and pulled him off of Ivar who pulled his own sword out of his belt and pointed at his neck.

You took that chance to hit the man behind you with your elbow as strong as you could. He released you in surprise but before you were able to run another one grabbed you, hugging you tightly against his chest.

“Take her to my tent.” Ivar ordered firmly. “And you…” He pushed the sword into his skin. “Stay away from her.”

You were calmly taken to Ivar’s tent, your body was treated with a lot more care this time, the man behind you didn’t dare to look at your bare body, covering your shoulders with the heavy fur he had on his hand. Once you were inside, he made you sit down on a pile of other furs gathered on the floor. A minute later Ivar pulled himself in, only then you noticed his legs and his crutches.

“My name is Ivar.” He grunted tiredly while pulling a chair to sit down, shifting in pain. “This is my brother Hvitserk.” He pointed to him. “We are…”

“The Ragnarssons.” You interrupted them. “I heard the stories.”

“We are very sorry for the way you were treated before.” Ivar continued.

“Would you treat me differently sir?” You teased defiantly.

“I just saved your life.” He answered with a knowing smirk.

“With what intentions?” You insisted.

“The intention to save your life.” He shrugged.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then what are you doing in my tent? You can go out there if you want.”

You didn’t answer that, looked over the tent opening and then down your lap.

“Go find Ubbe and our men.” Ivar dropped on the floor and crawled towards you. “Keep Harald and his dogs away from here.”

“Stop telling me what to do, Ivar.” Hvitserk talked finally and didn’t seem happy.

“So do you prefer to let them in?” He asked impatiently and his brother just grunted. “Bring me that bowl and a rag. You can leave after.”

Once both of you were alone, Ivar took the wet cloth close to your face but you slapped it away. He tried It again, you slapped it again. He tried one more time and you kept slapping It until he gave up and threw the cloth on your face. You took it yourself and started to wipe the stains of dry blood spread on your skin.

“You were brave out there.” He sighed without looking at you.

“Brave enough to defend myself when I am attacked? Even a dog has that courage…” You grunted out, wetting the cloth and once again taking it to your face, cleaning the fresh wounds.

“It’s not easy to do that once you’re held by a bunch of hungry dogs. They hurt and threatened you, still you didn’t make it any easier for them. It takes courage to do that.” He was looking at you while talking, you couldn’t help your wandering eyes to drop onto his legs. “You didn’t expect much help from a cripple, did you?”

“What happened to them?” You dared to ask.

“I guess I just wasn't the gods’ favorite.” He answered while looking at his legs and then back at you.

“There’s only one true God.” You hissed, moving your gaze away from that man.

“To you.” He answered knowingly. “That’s quite a boring statement to me, you know? I truly believe it’s not possible for only one God to look after this whole creation. That would be too much work for only one.”

“There’s no such thing as too much work for God. He takes care of all his creations, we are his children, he has power to take care of us all.”

“Yeah? And where were him while you were out there being hurt by Harald and his men?” He asked with a curious smile. “If you’re his child, why would he let you suffer so much?” You didn’t have the answer for that question, but couldn’t look away from Ivar’s gaze. “See, my Gods would never let bad things happen to their children, but not every viking out there is a son of a God. My father was. And so are we, me and my brothers.”

“You just said you’re not your gods’ favorite.”

“You saw my men looking down as I walked past them, didn’t you? That wouldn’t happen to any cripple.” He grunted once more. “I might not be the gods’ favorite, little one, but I’m certainly part of the good ones.”

You spent the next few days hiding inside Ivar’s tent. Hvitserk and a girl called Torvi would come in with food and water for you during the day, Ivar would come back by night and a man would always stay outside whenever you were alone. You didn’t feel like a prisoner, but never felt free to go either, not alone at least.

Every night you would watch while Ivar slept peacefully, snoring softly with one hand on his naked chest and the other under his head, never paying any mind to you, leaving his knives and weapons at your reach. Every night the idea crossed your mind, taking one of those knives, taking his life and running back to the city, back to Wessex and your old life, but that seemed so far away that you would always brush the thoughts away.

After days of sleeping only a few hours your body was giving up already, couldn’t bear to stay awake, but could never rest when sleeping, never letting yourself to lay down all of your defenses. Until one day, the silence outside gave you no warning about the abrupt pull on your ankles, your body was dragged outside the tent through the muddy ground until you felt his weight on you, his half naked body dragging over yours and the bad smell of ale coming out of his mouth.

“Little bunny got all alone tonight, what a pity.” He grunted while messily kissing your neck.

“Release me!” You mumbled, trying to push him off of you, struggling with your legs trying to avoid him between your thighs. “HELP!” You screamed as loud as you could.

“Keep screaming… I like that.”

You heard when he, once again, ripped your new chemise appart, his muddy hands staining your untouched skin, rubbing painfully. The drizzle turned into a full on rainstorm, the noise swallowing your screams when he finally made It between your thighs, taking one of his hands between your bodies. Once again, he tried to kiss you and you bit his lips as strong as you could, sticking your thumbs on his eyes and making him roll off of you in pain.

Without giving It a second thought, you ran. You ran as fast as you could through the woods, hearing while the drunk viking ran right after you, feelin the broken branches piercing through the skin of your feet, looking behind your shoulders trying to keep an eye on the man behind you. You ran for what felt like an eternity until you bumped into something, into someone and when you raised your eyes you couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Ivar.” You mumbled, tugging at his armor, nuzzling into his body, hugging him tightly like he was your life line, the only thing keeping you breathing. You didn’t even notice the group of people surrounding him, when he wrapped you under his arm everything else vanished and all you could sense was him and the strange sense of safety he brought to you.

“What happened? What are you doing out here?” He asked, worry all over his tone as he grabbed the back of your neck, his body trembling while trying to keep you with one arm and hold the crutch with the other. “What happened, little one?”

You didn’t have to answer, Harald finally reached you and you felt Ivar’s body stiff against yours immediately. You turned your head a little looking at Harald over your shoulder. Then you hugged him tighter, hiding your face into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and trying to completely erase Harald from your mind.

It took a few minutes of silence until Ivar hopped up his chariot with you under his arm, the storm was getting stronger by the minute and you refused to let go of his body. Still holding onto him, as Ivar left with the carriage, you looked around quickly, in time to see Hvitserk and Ubbe dismount from their horses and head towards Harald, you closed your eyes again and leaned into Ivar’s body, hugging him until you reached the camp.

He didn’t say anything, but every time you shook in fear, he hugged you tighter. Once you got there, both of you left the chariot behind with another man, and headed to his tent as fast as you could. He couldn’t hug you while walking, but he made sure to hold your hand until you finally entered the tent. Before you could say anything, someone else showed up and Ivar’s features immediately hardened.

“Ivar…” He started, but was interrupted just as fast.

“Out.” Ivar grunted under his breath, the young man looked at you, a silent plea before walking out. “Stay inside.” He ordered firmly to you before following his man out.

Your eyes followed him, the little spaces between the tent fabric showing half of the scene that was unwinding outside.

“What happened?” You heard as he asked angrily. “You left her alone?” He shouted.

“I got distracted for a moment and…” The young man stuttered in response.

Before he could finish, Ivar pulled his sword from his belt and moved towards him, you yelled in panic:

“No!” You jumped out of the tent towards Ivar grabbing his forearm before he could cut the poor man’s throat.

“What are you doing?” He yelled at you.

“No more killing!” You yelled back.

The storm was unrelenting, and even though It was hard to see, you watched as the adam’s apple on Ivar’s throat went up and down, as if he was carefully thinking about his next words. Your body was the only thing between Ivar and that man, you were his only protection.

“What are you talking about?? It’s his fault Harald almost…”

“It’s nobody’s fault but Harald’s. And even If It was his fault, his death wouldn’t change what happened.” You insisted. “I don’t want anyone getting killed in my name.”

“You should be honored.”

“Innocent blood spilled for nothing, there's no reason to be honored. I won’t be an excuse for another man’s death!”

Ivar looked at you like you were insane, but gave up eventually, dropping his sword and sighing loudly. He then pushed you inside the tent and looked over his shoulder before following you inside.

“I wonder if I had Harald under my sword you would have the same reaction.” He mumbled while starting to untie his upper body’s armor. “Not so innocent blood, right?”

“It’s not your right to take any man’s life.” You mouthed, crossing your arms around yourself. “He will be punished for his sins.”

“You seem very certain about that.” He grunted as he pushed his soaked tunic over his head, showing off the wounds on his chest. You looked away, turning your back at him. “I could use some help.”

“I can’t. You’re naked.” You answered shyly.

“Isn’t your god teaching you to help the ones in need?” You heard as he fell with a tud on the chair, a tiny whimper following right after. “I’m the one in need at the moment.”

“You can do it by yourself. I saw you do it by yourself before.” You insisted, looking over your shoulder discreetly and finding his sparkling blue eyes looking right back at you. You shivered, turning your face again.

“Yes, but before I wasn’t coming back from a battle. I’m wounded, little one.”

“I can’t… I can’t!”

Another muffled laugh sent shivers down your body, you heard while he struggled with the crutches, next thing he dropped on the ground and crawled over the makeshift bed, only in his trousers, as always. After sitting over the furs, he cleaned himself a bit before laying down completely, covering his body and protecting himself from the cold.

“You should take off these wet rags.” He grunted, looking at you.

“I don’t have anything else to put on.” You whispered in response.

He laughed again, a humorless laugh as he looked at you in disbelief.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, little one. There’s nothing working down my waist. Even If I wanted to do anything with you, I wouldn’t be able to.”

“I-I… I don’t believe you.” You looked at him with widened eyes.

“I guess you won’t be sharing the bed with me either.” He mumbled with a smirk.

“You know I won’t.”

“That’s a pity. It’s very warm down here.”

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, only then you went to your corner, sitting down on the ground hugging your own legs against your chest, trying to stay warm. Either way, after the first hour your trembling body won the battle against your morals, you got rid of the ripped off rags and carefully laid down under the covers, right next to Ivar.

Your body warmed up almost immediately and you finally stopped shaking. You turned to your side, trying your best to keep some distance from Ivar but keeping an eye on him. He sighed suddenly and your body stiffed, scared he might try anything with you, but he just moved both of his arms under his head. You looked at him shyly, curiosity taking the best of you while you tried to understand what every figure painted on his chest could possibly mean.

“You’re staring.” His voice startled you.

“I-I thought you were sleeping.” You mumbled shyly.

“I was. You woke me up.” He turned his head to look at you, a grin plastered on his face.

“I am… Sorry.” You swallowed hard.

“Come.” He growled, pulling you into his arms, your naked chest pressed against his.

“What are you doing?” You snapped, pushing him away from you.

“Warming you up. Stop pushing me, I told you nothing can happen between us.” He insisted, but you kept pushing him away until you turned on your back, reaching for the knife he had left on the floor and quickly putting It against his neck.

“Killing me It’s a terrible plan, little one.” He whispered, his hands pressing against your back while you kept the knife against the skin of his neck. “But that’s your decision. So… Go ahead.”

Ivar raised his head giving you enough space to slit his throat If you wanted to. Your hands were shaking, your heart was racing against your chest and your breathing was erratic, you stared at him in panic.

“You’re insane.” You whispered.

“So I've been told.” He answered, moving his neck until the knife crossed the first layer of skin, a thin line of blood oozed down his neck. He then lowered his head, catching your gaze with his, a knowing grin spreading all over his face.

You didn’t notice he was moving, not until his lips touched yours softly. At first you freezed, widened your eyes staring blankly into his, but then you parted your lips a little, letting the viking suck your lower lip into his mouth. He pulled away, he seemed as surprised as you were.

“Will you take this off of my neck, little one?” He asked, and you nodded, pulling the knife away. “Let me kiss you again…” He inhaled, nipping at his bottom lip with a hopeful look, his eyes locked on yours.

Slowly, you pulled away a little, relaxing the grip around the knife. Ivar rolled off of you, laying on top of you, his thigh bending between your legs while his hands grabbed at your waist. He kissed you again, parting his lips and waiting until you parted yours so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue slowly massaging yours until he distracted you enough so he could take the knife from your hands and throw It away.

That was your first kiss and you blindly followed his silent commands, repeating his moves a little awkwardly. Ivar pulled away only when he had to breathe, and you followed his face with your eyes closed, yearning for his mouth. You didn’t see the smile forming on his lips before he kissed you again, grabbing your arms and putting ‘em around his own neck.

The weight of his chest kneading on your breasts was slowly making you ache between your legs and his thigh pressing against your core wasn’t helping either, every flex of his muscle sent shock waves through your body, your hips moving on its own accord seeking uncontrollably for the new sensation he was bringing to you.

Without noticing, Ivar started to do the same, grinding against your thigh, his right hand searching between your bodies until it found your breast, kneading at the flesh, teasing your nipple with the tip of his fingers.

When the air became thin again, Ivar dropped his lips to your neck, starting to suck purple marks from your sensitive skin, making you shudder. Your hands found his braided hair and you let slip the tiniest moan, dragging a low grunt from his throat.

His sinful mouth kept his tour down your body until his lips latched at your nipple, sucking and teasing the little nub until it became pebbled and did the same with the other, sucking it into his mouth like a newborn baby.

Ivar opened your legs with his hips and, giving no time for you to protest, licked down your belly until he found your core, latching at your wet folds, sipping at your juices like the finest, the sweetest wine. You widened your eyes at the new feeling, arching your back on the bed as you gripped the furs under your body.

“Ivar…” You moaned shyly. He didn’t stop, starting to suck on your clit feverishly, making you gasp.

He kept sucking on you, messily sucking on you until you were dripping through the corners of his mouth, you could sense your core getting wetter and wetter by the minute, a weird coil on your lower belly started to form and you felt like you needed to go to the bathroom. You tried to pull away from his grip, but both of his hands held your hips in place and you felt his tongue enter you, you moaned loud, calling his name, closing your eyes as you buckled up against his mouth.

“Ivar!” You called again, still trying to push him away.

Your legs started to shake and as the coil snapped you pressed his head between your thighs, moaning loudly when you reached your peak without actually knowing what had happened.

Ivar kept licking on you for what felt like an eternity, before stopping to look at you from down there. You closed your eyes and covered your face feeling utterly embarrassed. You felt as he moved but then he stayed quiet, you looked between your fingers just to see him in awe staring at his own cock. Curious, you finally uncovered your face and sat down, looking at him with a frown.

“It never happened before.” He murmured, still looking at his up and proud cock, head an angry shade of red, leaking profusely down his length. “It ne-never…” He raised his eyes to stare at you, eyes widened.

“What?” You asked in shock, eyes focusing on his impressive size.

“My cock. It never… Worked before.” He whispered, reaching for your hand, pulling it until you touched him. “I made you cum and got hard…”

“Be-because… Because of… Me?” You blinked, looking at him while letting him move your hand up and down his length.

Ivar closed his eyes, lips parting as he sighed heavily. You looked at him, feeling strangely proud of yourself. Your fingers slipped easily, he was wet and hot against your palm, and as he moaned softly, all you wanted was to keep dragging those beautiful sounds from him. But all of that was completely new territory for you, an open field, you didn’t want to hurt him.

“Ivar… H-help me… I don’t know what… What to do.” You whispered shyly, making him open his eyes, his beautiful, sparkling, glossy eyes staring down at you like you were some kind of treasure.

“You don’t…” He gasped as you pressed your fingers around his girth. “Have to… Oh Gods…” He moaned again, eyes now focused on your hand.

You smiled to yourself, releasing his cock and crawling over to him until you were sitting on your calves, right by his side. You raised your hand to touch him again, but he stopped you.

“Sit on me.” He commanded, hands on your hips trying to pull you in.

You widened your eyes, scared. You kneeled on the furs as he held your hips, opening your legs trying to make you straddle him. You held onto his shoulders for balance and grunted in fear.

“Wait… Wait… Ivar…”

He stopped and looked at you, he seemed just as nervous as you were. You swallowed hard, tears gathering on the corners of your eyes. You blinked scared and his grip loosened a bit, only then you felt his hands shaking.

“I’m… I’m sorry, little one.” He breathed and was about to release you when you held his hand.

“Won’t be comfortable for you…” You murmured shyly, moving away from his lap and kneeling beside him again, he blinked confused. “Can you… Can you lay down, please?”

He nodded, moving over the furs until he laid down completely. You took a deep breath before straddling him again, you were wet enough to drip onto his hard cock, either way Ivar licked his fingers and touched you, smearing your juices with his saliva, making you even more wet. With his other hand he held his length, lining It with your center, your hands on each side of his head, eyes focused on his waist.

“Look at me.” He asked and you obeyed, looking up at his face. “Are you sure?”

“Just… Just… Just… Wait a second…” You took a deep breath before closing your eyes and nodding.

“But I need you to look at me.” He begged, his voice was trembling just like his hands. You obeyed, looking down at him with hooded eyes.

Slowly, you began to sit down on him, the head of his cock pressing into you, opening you. You bit on your lower lip, the stretch burning against your walls as he slowly entered you. When he found a thin barrier he stopped completely, holding up your hips .

“Ivar…” You whined, looking at him with glossy eyes.

“Hug me.” He asked and you nodded, moving down on him until your head found the crook of his neck, hands on his shoulders.

He kept you in place for a few more minutes, your walls hugging tightly around him while he used all his strength to wait for your time, he didn’t want to hurt you, not too much at least. Your heart was beating fast and loud on your head, you were breathing rapidly, frantically.

“You’re doing so good for me.” He mumbled, lips finding the skin of your shoulders as he started to suck brand new marks on you. Taking his kisses to your neck, Ivar moved your hair from his way, starting to lick on your sensitive skin, doing his best to distract you again.

You started to moan, absently moving on your hips, your walls fluttering around his girth. You kissed him, holding his face, letting him push you down a little more. You whined against his lips, breathing heavily as he kept pushing you down until he was balls deep into you. Both of you parted the kiss so you could moan loudly, Ivar closing his eyes as he felt your walls gripping him like a vice.

“Oh gods… This is…This is Valhalla…” He groaned.

Your vision was blurred by your tears, you never felt that full before, or that vulnerable. Ivar’s hands started to run up and down your sweaty back, whispering praises into the shell of your ear like prayers to a god, to a goddess. His hips started to buckle, his throbbing cock twitching inside you as your walls shuddered and your hips started to grind down, unconsciously meeting his timid thrusts.

“That’s It, little one, that’s it.” He mumbled in awe, both of his closed as he pressed you against his body.

Ivar covered your shoulder skin in kisses, thrusted up into you very slowly, waiting for you to meet down with your hips. Your cries were muffled against his neck, but as the burning sensation started to fade, your body started to seek the same feeling he brought to you with his mouth.

With your hands on each side of his head, you raised your upper body, unconsciously pressing your hips down even more, the new angle making the head of his cock nudge against a spot inside you, you had no idea was there, but sent electric shock waves through your body and dragged a loud mewl from your throat. You did It again, rolling your lips until you found that same spot, Ivar’s hands finding home on your hips letting you move the way you wanted.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered, looking at your throbbing slit. “So beautiful, little-oh-little one…”

Ivar moaned, one of his hands leaving your hip to knead on your breast, your hands quickly meeting his, covering them while you started to move a little faster. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, the feeling on your lower belly started to show up again, making you roll your hips faster. You felt when his hand snaked around your neck, squeezing softly. Your breath hitched and you gasped, his free thumb met your throbbing clit while you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

It was like your body knew exactly what you needed, while your brain went completely blank except for Ivar’s name, your hips circled, rolled and bounced naturally. Both your hands clung to the one he had around your neck, the coil on your belly became tighter and tighter by the minute and the mewls escaping through your parted lips mixed with Ivar’s grunts, filling the tent and probably soaring outside too.

“Ivar…” You started but got cut off by one particularly deep thrust, moaning softly.

“I know. I got you, you can cum on my cock. Make a mess for me, please.” His pleas came out as a broken cry, the sound went straight to your core, the coil snapped finally and you felt yourself clenching down on his cock. Ivar followed you close behind, a warm liquid spurted inside you and dripped down your core onto his cock and pelvis.

With your eyes closed, you fell on his chest, breathing heavily while he hugged you tightly, one hand on your head, caressing your hair while the other pressed down on your back. You stayed like this for a moment, Ivar’s cock slipping out of you after a minute or two. His chest went up and down against yours, rapidly after first, but then slowed down and yours followed.

Ivar moved under you and you squealed in surprise, moving your head to look at him, at his neck to be more specific. He looked down, his eyes meeting yours making you blush and hide your face on the curve of his neck, avoiding his gaze. He laughed softly.

“No need to get all shy on me now.” He whispered, moving the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s easier saying it than doing it.” You answered, still hiding.

He laughed again, keeping his hands on your body and for whatever reason, none of that felt wrong, quite the opposite. But you still didn’t know what to say, your brain started working fast, seeking for the dark side of that, of him. Slowly you became scared of the future.

“Am I still your prisoner?” You asked after some time.

“You never were.” He answered quickly. “But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t want you to go. I’ll be sad if you go.”

You finally looked at him, he looked back. Ivar seemed so young and vulnerable, far away from the scary man you were used to seeing.

“I want you to stay, little one. Stay with me.” He begged, hand meeting the side of your face and you unconsciously leaned into his hand.

You didn’t answer right away, after a moment he fell asleep and you finally found the courage to run away, you grabbed one of Ivar’s tunics and ran, making room for yourself through the woods until you finally reached the gates of Wessex. The guards saw you and immediately opened It, your fiancée jumping down the stairs until he reached you on the floor, pulling you in for a hug.

“Thank God you’re safe.” He whispered. “I thought I lost you forever!” He grabbed your face with both of his hands, leaning his forehead against yours.

Everything you knew was different then. Your hometown, your fiancée, your life. Looking into his eyes didn’t bring you any comfort or sense of safety, not as you found with Ivar. He looked at you for a moment before frowning.

“What did they do to you?” He asked angrily.

“Nothing.” You answered, holding his hands and pulling them away from your face. “I just need to go home, please.” You whispered.

He then covered your body that was half naked to protect you from prying eyes and walked you to the house you lived with your sister. Your parents had died years before, living both of you by yourselves, as soon as you got there she hugged you tightly, crying softly on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry!” She whispered on your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you alone in the church.”

“It’s past now.” You tried to calm her down.

“Come, I’ll help you clean yourself.”

You said goodbye to your fiancée while she prepared a bath for you. As soon as you entered the wooden tub, the stains of blood between your thighs turned the water slightly pink. Your sister saw It but didn’t say anything, helping you to clean yourself completely. Moments later, you were sitting on your bed, covered in a clean dress while she brushed your hair.

“Are you alright?” She asked shyly and you just nodded in response.

As soon as you found yourself alone, you looked out of the window of your room, the night started to paint the sky a dark shade of blue that reminded you of his eyes. You felt deeply empty, for whatever reason, Ivar was the only thing on your mind. You looked around, none of that felt as familiar as his arms, as warm as his bed. You hugged yourself, feeling dirty, tears gathering around your eyes as you found yourself missing him.

Later, the screaming outside your house woke you up and just like you felt the drops of the rain on your skin on a stormy day, you felt his presence. You got up, sat up on your bed and looked out of the window again. The impulse was uncontrollable, you just left. Ran through your door, towards the noise because you knew he would be there.

When your eyes found his, the sparkling blue lit up under the dim light of the fire surrounding him. He surely seemed like a god bringing chaos into your lull. He seemed hurt, he looked at you angrily at first, but then the relief painted down his features.

Your fiancée grabbed you by your forearm, dragging you through the mess of screaming people while you struggled to get released, you screamed but he didn’t seem to hear you. For a moment you gave up until you heard his voice, right behind you both. He approached in his chariot, crossing in front you and stopping you in your tracks.

Ivar didn’t say anything, he looked at you. He looked at you and for the very first time you felt truly seen. He offered you his hand and without a second thought you jumped into his chariot, straight into his arms. He then smiled at you, beautifully, dragging a smile from your lips before kissing you feverishly.

“Let’s go home, little one.” He whispered against your lips, before leaving all that mess behind.

***

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar vikings #ivar imagine #ivar smut #ivar fic #ivar x reader smut #ivar x you smut #vikings #vikings fic #vikings imagine #vikings smut #ivar lothbrok

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mcubuckyxlokisbitch · 4 months

Text

OUT OF ALL THE TIMELINES

Short Series !

Female Asgardian reader (now avenger) X TVA Loki

Chapter 1: Avengers I need your help (done)

Chapter 2: Interrogations and proclamations (done)

Chapter 3: Even Asgardians have myths (done)

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5: -

Chapter 6: -

Surprise !!!!

Chapter 7: Chapter 8: Chapter 9 Chapter 10:

Warnings: Alot of angst <3, somebody kissed but im not saying who, mentions of blood, injury,

Summary: After your Lokis death and have moved on and joined the Avengers. After the aftermath of Endgame you and the other remaining Avengers all seek shelter in the new Avengers Warehouse Pepper Potts bought as a temporary replacement while the Avengers mansion is being renovated. What happened after a very tired mission. Well, you're speechless, to say the least.

a/n: I added a few more chapters because you know dreams lmao so enjoy this one !! Tell me if yall want smut soon. CuZ ye im feeling a smut scene some time soon.

You walked around the Avengers warehouse and got to the medic bay. The push the doors open, "How are her vitals."

"Well for one thin they don't make any sense."

"Ive been trying to heal her but, I can't get a signature on the dark magic... I need your magic to track it." Wanda says as her hands float above the blonde girl.

"She really does look like Loki its scary.... Like put a blonde wig make her shorter and put some eyelashes boom you got blondie here."

You rolled your eyes as your eyes traveled towards Ivars dark matter dagger. A strong dark force gutted your stomach, you could feel the evil from a mile away. You saw the veins around the stab wound as they turned black and spreaded around her stomach.

The only thing that could kill an Asgardian God. With its rusted blade and messily bandanged handle. Just as the myths say, the dagger was made for Odin the allfather but Ivar and his dagger were defetead and casted away before he could use it on him.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe to cast a simple healing spell.

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"Alright, enchantments are more than just casting especially when your doing a healing spell." Loki circled around you. You closed your book as you groaned, bored of slow paced lessons set by the prince.

"A healing spell I think we can do something more challenging than that Loki."

Loki stopped in his steps as he brought out his dagger and striked your leg.

"LOKI... AARGH.... YOU MISBIGOTTEN SON OF A LEPPERS GOAT. YOU DAFT ARSE" YOU SCREAMED AT HIM. He chuckled and tipped your chin to look at him with the bloodied dagger.

"Careful, if we go on legal terms thats treason against the prince and queen..." He grinned. "On more serious terms you need to learn how to cast the spell on yourself, this way casting it on others will come naturally."

You tried to hold the cut on your thigh, blood was seeping out continously as you winced when you tried to move your leg. "How am I to focus when im bleeding to death." the words gritting through your teeth.

"Close your eyes and breathe..." Loki sat behind you whispering to your ear. He placed his hands on yours and led them to your wound. "The spell only works when your calm." You took a deep breath and out as your shaky hand lay above your wound. "Feel the energy from your body, allow it to flow through your to your hands down to your wound."

You did as he said. Your enchantments extended to the wound as the blood started to lessen but the wound didn't close. "Now the difficult part. Closing the wound, you can't just imagine it to close, you know the spell."

You said aloud through your teeth holding in your pain. "Rense helbrede såret." Nothing happened, the blood lessen but the wound was still wide open. You were confused and irritated to say the least.

Loki nudged his nose towards the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "A spells power is through its whisper, to be a true master you must not only say it but think it."

Relaxing your hands as Loki slithered his to your shoulders, you casted in a whisper focusing on the spell imagining the wound closing and the energy flowing towards your wound. "Rense helbrede såret." your eyes glew orange as your enchantment casted on your leg closed the wound slowly from one end to the other. The stinging pain you felt a few seconds ago was gone. There was no mark no scar where there was once blood and torn muscle. You laughed aloud and jumped up from your seat cheering.

"I- I did it no way, I just casted a healing spell on my first try... Loki you are magnificent." You turned to the man who raised an eye brow. The unimpressed look which gutted you stomach and stopped yur cheering as you felt shameful.

"Are you proud of such a small spell I mastered long before I was 16 years old." You blushed in shame as you brough your head down. Looking away from him, you could still feel him walk closer to you. "Charms are not something you can play aroudn on the side either you take it seriously and master it or I never teach you again. Do you wish to be great or nothing...."

He was now merely inches from your as he pinched your chin and brought him to look towards him, "So tell me little girl..." At this point you could feel your heart about to jump out your heart at any moment.

"Great or nothing." he whispered

"Great..." you mumbled.

"Perfect." he leaned down as he placed your lips on yours.

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"Perfect-

You snap back to reality.

"Perfect, I have the signature of the spell.... You can take the spear out whenever your ready Y/N..." Wanda smiled.

You blanked out as you saw the wound still corrupted but not as bloodied as it was before.

"Careful, won't asgardians burn or disintegrate when you touch the handle or something." Peter stopped your hand.

"It is merely a myth Peter." You held his. "It'll sting slightly but I'll be fine."

"Wow even asgardians have myths. It's like inception a myth in a myth." Ant man said chewing on his chips in the corner of the med bay on a spare bed.

You hold the dagger and it burned your hand the moment you wrapped your hand around it. You winced and pulled back your hand and shook off the heat. Everyone had their eyes on you as you tried again. You wrapped your fingers around the handle, the burning sensation started as you focused on absorbing the heat but it didn't work.

"Teya, your hand it's turning the same colour as the wound." Sam pointed out

Your hand was corrupted. You casted a healing spell on your hand as you held the dagger handle tighter ignoring the warnings from your teamates.

Only one of asgardian strength can pull out the dagger. But anyone who lays in the hand on the dagger, will meet death.

It was a phrase, a warning actually, you remembered like the back of your hand from your favourite tale.

You pulled the dagger out with some force as the wound on the body closed. You dropped the dagger on the ground as you did too.

You were on your knees as your hand turned black and you wrapped your other hand on it trying to heal it. The room felt like it was a million degrees as you felt the darkness travel through your veins.

"Y/N whats going on..." Sam said kneeling down beside you. "FRIDAY RADIO STRANGE FOR AN SOS."

"Yelena, get Thor, Parker make sure Barnes does not know about this make sure they stay with Loki."

"Don't tell James." You whispered to Sam

"Not a chance princess."

"Wanda hows the wound." You looked up in pain.

"Closing in. But old Asgardian magic is complicated, I need time to find a way for it to not spread."

"Sam, I'm fine." you groaned through the pain still trying to cast the healing spell on your arm.

"Ya say that to your black hand. And..... woah." Sam started to let your hand go when your hand to elbow was turning black

"I'm here..." Stephen walked through a portal.

"Her eyes." Sam said concerened as there was no white left in your eyes just pitch black.

You forced yourself to stand up. Your shaking right hand corrupted as you projected your powers towards the dagger on the ground. Focusing the dark energy to leave your body. You groaned as you saw Stephen observe the situation and walk towards your arm.

"Keep focusing project any corrupted magic into the dagger."

Strange got to position and casted a cleansing spell on you. Helping to slip the dark energy off you. You felt your powers slipping away from you as the dark matter did.

When you felt no more corrupted magic you stopped as there was no more magic to give. Your knees felt weak and you tried to walk towards the closest bed but crumble and fell like a new born baby giraffe.

"I got you gurl." Sam caught you before you hit the ground.

"That was very stupid of you..." Strange said as he walked towards the sword glowing red and black. He formed a shield around it as it levitated towards you. "Here this won't get your hand burnt."

"Y/N, your hand. It.... it, that looks like a raisin." Thor winced.

"Thank you Thor, for that obvious comment." your groaned standing up, carrying the bubble with the dagger with your undwounded hand you walked towards the blonde girl. Who seemed to be breathing better as her vitals improved. You took a deep breathe to feel her aura and her health. Which was improving slowly, slower than it must, you looked up towards the body 2 beds down. "Strange what can be evaluated of this mans vitals..."

Strange walked over to the white haired man and hovered over him. Levitating his file to his hands and read through it. "This man is, hm...."

"Check the jacket , TVA ever heard of anything like it." Sam said tossing the jacket towards Strange. Strange looked at the jacket spread wide open hovering infront of him. "Yes the TVA, yes...... I- I actually never heard of them is this made up?"

"Well there goes our backup." Sam groaned plopping himself back on the bed.

"Well there isn't anything we can do. I'll take the dagger back to my room and we'll recon with Loki tomorow... Everyone eat, the food is here get some sleep, meet up first thing tomorow morning 7 am." You said walking out the medbay. "Friday keep an eye on our guest... update us if anything."

"Yes boss." the loud speaker said before the doors closed.

"A bit random but shes can be very attractive when she gets all demanding and stern." Yelena smirked.

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

You placed the sphere down on your tv table plopping down on your bed. You winced as your injured hand grazed against the sheets, clenching it with your other hand forcing down another healing spell, nothing, the redness seemed to fade away for a moment but it still looked bad.

There came a sudden knock on the door. "Y/N??" "Go away strange..."

"Actually." Thor opened the door and gave you a sympathetic smile.

"Thor... Hows-

"Your hand, does it hurt- is it corrupted- how are you do you feel well?" Thor rushed over to your side and sat down on your bed. "Let me see maybe I can be of an assistance.'

"If I remembered correctly you failed enchantment and healing lessons set by your own mother." you pulled your hand away.

"I have improved..." Thor said crossing his arms.

"Of course you have." You stood up and walked to your closet to change into something more comfortable.

"I'm sorry..."

"What?"

"I can't go through this again."

"No one is forcing you to be on this assingment. You may return to new asgard and take a break."

"You should be as well."

"Thor the team needs atleast 1 person who knows Loki."

"What if they didn't." Thor said plainly. You turned towards him confused, but you knew where he was getting to. " What if but for one moment we were selfish , what if we were not heroes, mere asgardians who simply needs to be born, live, then die."

"Thor-."

"You were right..." Thor sobbed, tears forming around his eyes. "It's just like Ragnarok all over again." He stared at the ground.

You walk towards Thor and lifted his chin up. "What can I say to the brother who has been my strength for centuries ..." You sighed "I know with Asgard gone, our duties blur with the destinies we thought we could have lived. For once... I really have nothing to say."

"He looks so much like him." Thor laid his head against your stomach. "I couldn't bear myself to get to know him."

You sighed and stroked his hair back. "You need not talk to him unless absolutely necesarry."

"Falling inlove with him... Loving my brother seems to be the one thing I cannot prevent myself from doing." Thor choked out. "Even though I know the outcome I can't help a part of myself to hope."

"Lets eat... you always feel better after we eat. We shouldn't think about this right now." You brought Thor up. As he leaned forward and embraced you.

"I miss him."

"Me too."

"It's been hard..."

"I know." You sniffled as you stopped the moment and stared out your window. You looked up to him. "Shall we join the others for dinner? "

"We shall." he smiled down as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

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sivyera · 2 years

Text

sivyera's masterlist

requests are open!

before you request, read the rules!

rules for request → here

Started: 08/06/22

Last Updated: 12/05/24

༺☆༻

my other masterlists - avatar masterlist httyd masterlist

Marvel ↴

Dating Bucky Barnes but being Sam Wilson's best friend

Dating Doctor Strange would include..

Dating Bucky Barnes would include..

Dating Sinister Strange would include..

Dating Defender Strange would include..

We weren't meant to be, so let me go. (Sinister Strange x reader)

Made for Kill. (Peter Parker x hydra!reader)

Vikings ↴

Ivar the Boneless│Fluff alphabet

Arcane ↴

The night we felt true love. (Cassandra Kiramman x fem!reader)

Arcane characters as love stereotypes.

Arcane characters as Disney couple.

Dating Ekko but Vi has a crush on you…

Twilight ↴

10 things Edward Cullen loves about you

TWILIGHT characters as love tropes

Twilight characters dating islamic reader

hot chocolate (bella swan x fem!reader)

undying love (paul lahote x fem!vampire!reader)

dating headcanons (jacob black x imprint!human!reader)

Harry Potter↴

coming soon...

Raya and the Last Dragon ↴

Dating Namaari would include..

My hero academia ↴

I won't let anyone hurt you! (Bakugou x reader)

Onward ↴

Ian Lightfoot having a crush on you would include..

Gravity Falls ↴

Cuddling with Dipper Pines HC’s

Perfect. (Dipper Pines x shy!reader)

Love languages with Gravity Falls characters

Jealous HC's with Gravity Falls characters

Dipper Pines│Fluff Alphabet

The Basketball Diaries ↴

Dating Jim Carroll would include...

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes↴

Dating Blue eyes would include...

Blue eyes│Fluff Alphabet

Peter Pan 2003↴

Dating Peter Pan would include...

Peter pan being obsessed with you would include...

Vis a Vis (Locked Up)↴

Vis a Vis characters dating headcanons

Turning Red↴

Dating Ming Lee would include..

My Little Pony ↴

my MLP headcanons!

Lego Ninjago movie ↴

Dating Jay Walker would include...

Lego Ninjago characters as eye color wallpaper (tik tok trend)

Lego Friends (Friends: Girls on a Mission) ↴

Lego Friends characters and their sexuality HC's

Lego Friends dating HC's

8 mile ↴

Cuddling with Jimmy Smith Jr HCs

Dating Jimmy Smith Jr would include..

Don’t worry (Jimmy Smith Jr x reader)

Touchstarved B-rabbit x touchstarved reader hc’s

The Collector↴

Dating Arkin O’Brien would include...

Rise of the Guardians↴

Dating Jack Frost would include...

DATING HEADCANONS WITH BUNNYMUND FROM RISE OF THE GUARDIANS

Team Fortress 2 ↴

Dating Scout/Jeremy would include...

Inception ↴

Dating Robert Fischer would include..

Robert Fischer│Fluff alphabet

His guardian angel.

Chain the Night. (Robert Fischer x reader)

American Pie ↴

Dating American pie characters would include...

The Devil All the Time↴

Yandere TDATT characters being in love with you would include…

The Treasure Planet ↴

coming soon...

IT 2017↴

your lips, my lips. apocalypse. (henry bowers x reader)

Saltburn ↴

game 00.1 (felix catton x reader)

Rampage 2018 ↴

Dating Harvey Russell would include..

WRECK - IT RALPH ↴

Dating Sergeant Calhoun would include...

PEN15 ↴

Dating PEN15 characters would include...

SAW ↴

coming soon...

The Batman 2022↴

coming soon...

Fate: The Wings Saga↴

coming soon...

After↴

coming soon...

Actors/Celebrity ↴

Dating male celebrities would include...

Pedro Acosta

dating Pedro Acosta would include..

Cillian Murphy

Fluff alphabet

‘Morning’

Electric touch

Dating Cillian Murphy would include..

Elizabeth Olsen

Dating Elizabeth Olsen would include..

Beautiful

Sam Worthington

coming soon...

Britain Dalton

coming soon...

Alex Høgh Andersen

Alex Høgh Andersen│Fluff alphabet

Robert Pattinson

coming soon...

Eminem

Dating Eminem would include...

DISNEY/PIXAR/DISNEY CHANNEL and OTHER CARTOONS ↴

Dating PJ Duncan would include..

Disney characters as boyfriends/girlfriends

Disney princesses and their sexualities, my headcanons

Disney/Pixar characters dating hc’s

love headcanons for the great prince | bambi

cinnamon girl (frozen 2 elsa x northuldra reader)

puck and pirouette (inside out 2 riley andersen x fem!reader)

#masterlist #sivyera #sivyera's masterlist

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jadelynlace · 6 months

Text

A Slice of Lime, Please⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]⎮Deleted Scene

read more Ink Drinker here

Author's Note: With the general time line of this blurb, and the video I saw earlier, I've concocted this piece. And trust me, I was grinning like an idiot the whole day at the station as I kept going back to this. This is a much lighter piece over the angst of the next blurb coming. I said what I said.

It’s sweaty bodies, music a bit too loud for your liking, and the general wave of the patterns voices as eye swatch the game on the screen. They pull out quietly, only to round up their decibels a moment later. You agreed to the night out when you were in much better spirits and now you’re following through with it all and you hate it.

These are the moments you loathe—being out with nothing to show for the fact that you and Ivar are together. Except, you’re not. To keep the bubbling beast of Ivar’s anxiety at bay, but you would go to the ends of the earth if you thought it would help him.

Sometimes, you wonder if anyone knows; every so often you catch Hvitserk looking at you for a second more than what seems appropriate. And rather than question it, you let him sit in his own unease with whatever it is he’s searching for. Right now, it’s his expression as he watches you, watch another woman offering to buy Ivar a shot.

You watch this woman undress him with her eyes, pulling the black tee from where it’s tucked to reveal the ink on his chest, the muscles you traced your nails over that morning. How she brings her pupils up and down and wonders if his size matches with what she’s looking at. You have half a mind to tell her that it does. You wonder if she wants to know about his interest, his quirks, or if she just wants to look at him. Instead, you look back at Hvitserk and raise your brows; if you’re going to have a feeling, it better be towards something you can handle.

“What?” You ask Hvitserk and he shakes his head.

“Nothing, nothing,” He lies and you narrow your eyes.

“Hvitty?” You then ask. “Hvitserk,” You demand.

“Y/N, it’s nothing,” He then tells you and you can see he’s starting to dig the hole.

“You’ve been doing that for the last week,” You grumble.

“It’s just…” Hvitserk starts.

“Yeah, a slice of lime, please,” You hear Ivar say to the bar tender.

“On the rig check yesterday…” Hvitserk starts.

“Hey, brother,” Ivar snaps his fingers behind him, “No work talk. No firefighter stuff,” And Ivar turns back around.

“I’m trying to tell something to my partner,” Hvitserk says, placing a very careful emphasis on how he speaks.

“Are you having a stroke?” Ivar tries.

The woman follows, two shots, two lime slices, and she hands Ivar’s respective parts to him.

“No, I’m not,” Hvitserk snaps.

“Well, you’re about to,” Ivar says and he takes the lime slice—and much more quickly than you anticipate from his large hands—shoves the rind between your lips. Without a word to the other woman he tosses the shot back, his neck snapping backwards before his hands reach to your cheeks as he pulls you forward, sucking the lime from between your lips.

You feel your heart stop, your body moves with how Ivar dictates, and Hvitserk doesn’t miss the way you close your eyes, or the way both yours, and Ivar’s beings deflate. He tries so very hard to hide the smile that comes over his lips and he fails. But, he doesn’t quite care.

The moment you feel Ivar slowly pulls back, your eyes open quickly, widely as they watch his slowly open.

“Oops,” He tries, “Must have mixed you two up…” He says so that only you can hear it, bastardly smirk on his lips. “Is she still there?” Ivar adds, louder.

“Nope,” Hvitserk states. “And for the record, Ivar, cardiac arrest is the correct medical term. That wouldn’t cause a stroke,”

“It wouldn’t?” Ivar tries, “Oh, I guess that’s why you majored in para-medicine and I majored in mathematics,”

You spit the lime out into your hand and hand it to Ivar, who only offers you a wink.

“Can’t be surprised by what you already know,” Hvitserk sings.

Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines @readsalot73 @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @93xdiagonxalley @ivarisms @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony @ivarsgard @cosmicmerbabe @smears-and-spots @kaybee87 @t4medicroe @noway4u @southernbe @anakindoesntlikesand @mymindfuckery @noonespecial90 @hypocrtic-trash-baby

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #ivar au #ivar #modern vikings au #modern ivar #vikings fiction #ivar lothbrok #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )#hvitserk #hvitserk au #modern hvitserk #modern hvitserk au

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

Text

💖🐼 Hiya Again!

It's time to sit down, relax, and catch a breath after a month full of excitement, spicy moments and lust.

Let us all soothe the mood and have fun during our very first Fluffember event ♡ As one of our writers put it, "Fluffember is like post-Kinktober aftercare" - we believe we can all agree on this statement!

Essential information:

♡ all of the works will be SFW

♡ our event-specific tag will be applied to all works: #paperpanda fluffember

♡ please keep in mind that all works range between 500 and 3k words, with little to no particular plot. All of our readers are female

♡ following the cut you'll find the full list of prompts and pairings we have selected for our Fluffember event. We would like to point out that the order on the list does not reflect the order of posting

♡ reblog to help spread the word!

1 - Recovery - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Peaky Blinders)

2 - Hair Brushing/Styling - Thoma x fem!reader (Genshin Impact)

3 - Dinner cooking - Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader (The Hobbit)

4 - Bed Sharing - Tartaglia x fem!reader (Genshin Impact)

5 - Hands Holding - Steven Grant x fem!reader (Moon Knight)

6 - Picnic - Jake Lockley & Khonshu x fem!reader (Moon Knight)

7 - Cuddling - Sirius Black x fem!reader (Harry Potter)

8 - Time Spending - Jack Chambers x fem!reader (Don't Worry Darling)

9 - Stargazing - Ivar x fem!reader (Vikings)

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years

Text

Sami’s Fic Stash

Dröttning

Warnings: graphic mentions of blood, gore, mutilation, mentions of non-con, kidnap, war, death, Ivar. Harald is also a warning. 18+. There are some gaps in this 😲 it’s unfinished 🤣 also strong religious views in this.

Pairing: Ivar x English Princess!Reader (past Heahmund x F!Reader.) and Hvitserk.

Word Count: 21k+

Tagging: @adrille88 @istorkyou

You stumbled through the woods, your foot catching on a root so you fell face first. One of the Northmen picked you up by your bindings, he was tall with darker hair braided down his back. He spat something at you in Old Norse dragging a terrified whimper from you. Your face ached where it had struck the ground, no doubt the blood was mingling with the tears already wetting your skin. The sound of your father’s cries echoed in the murky wood as the chariot dragged him over the rough ground. He was going to die, you knew he was as soon as he took Ragnar from King Ecbert. You had pleaded, begged for him to listen to your sister when she warned about the Northman reaching the shores of England but your father was a stubborn man and had refused to listen to you or Judith. And now, it was his undoing.

The chariot stopped and they hauled your father upright, his feet slipping on the mud as the rain pattered down on the wet ground. A chill seeped through your dress as you recognised the woodland around you. The dip in the clearing drew your gaze and instantly you were dragged back to the death of the Viking. You had hated every second, seeing him tortured and locked in a cage like an animal but your father, King Ælle had made you stand there at watch. The big Northman, the one with lighter hair tied down his back, grabbed the front of the King’s tunic, shouting in his face. You knew who these men were, they were Ragnar’s sons and they terrified you. Dragging your father down the rain sodden slope you hoped they would forget you were there but the one charged with keeping an eye on you shoved at your shoulder. The mud was thick, clinging to your shoes wishing you were wearing your boots. Your dress was ruined, not that you cared really, it just felt uncomfortable. Torn at the seams down your leg, mud permeating the hem and weighing you down, the rain dripping down your back made you wish you were in anything else right now.

The brothers surrounded the pit, the larger one stamping hard on the wooden trap doors and the others all looked at each other. You shied to the side when the younger one crawled past you, dragging his legs with him as they opened the wooden door revealing an empty pit. You could hear them talking, snatches of words you recognised but not much. Your father stared at them, still hoping to buy his way out of this no doubt. Sniffing you wiped the wetness off your nose trying to believe that he wouldn’t offer you up so they would leave him alone.

“How much gold and silver do you want to spare my life? Name your price! Anything!” You jangled the shackles on your wrists hoping to draw his attention so he could beg for your life too but he didn’t even look in your direction, so set on saving his own skin he’d clearly forgotten you were tangled up in this mess as well. The Viking on the floor spoke, his face twisted with hatred and hope died inside your chest. There was no way out, you were going to die in these forsaken woods at the hands of these filthy heathens.

The Viking with the black face approached the King, his face like a cloud as he forced your father to his knees.

“I’ve been told your god is a carpenter,” he spoke softly and fluently but nothing could disguise the venom in his voice. “And guess what? So am I.” The one that had been by your side suddenly grabbed the back of your neck, your pulse throbbed as he dragged you forward forcing you into the mud next to your father. He gestured to you and it looked like he was asking what to do with you. The cripple turned, his eyes a stormy blue in the dark light and they were fixed on you. He came close, looking you over like you were cattle, just an object that he was deciding whether to keep or not. You tried not to flinch when he reached for your face, his bare fingers digging into your sore cheeks pulling your face around so he could have a good look at you. He said something and the others shifted, a deep rumble of amusement sounded from them. You hated not knowing what they were saying so you did the only thing you could, you spat in his face. You expected the slap, working your jaw to try and ease the pain as it blossomed under your skin.

“Kristinn Hóra!” He shouted at you, wiping the blood tinged spit off his cheek. Your father wasn’t even watching, offering no comfort as he mourned for his life in the mud of the woodland floor.

“Father!” You were grabbed at the elbow and lifted to your feet. “Father!”

“Enough!” The Viking with the black face approached, making you stumble into the chest of the one who had a hold on your arm.

With a firm shove from the Northman you slammed into the trunk of the nearest tree and he hauled your tied hands up above your head. The shackles were unforgiving against your skin and you felt it was an insult to be bound by English iron. He pulled the rope tight, making you rest on the balls of your feet. Instantly your arms began to go numb but there was nothing you could do except helplessly watch and weep.

Darkness descended and soon you were all seeing via firelight. Torches and fire pits lit the clearing, your father was spread against a fallen tree his cries ringing out as they nailed his hands mercilessly to the wood. Tears streaked down your face but not a sound left you, soon you were going to be the only Saxon surviving and you were sure the Northman were going to deal with you next. The atmosphere as it weaved between the trees made the hairs on your tired body stand on end. You tried to shut out the awful yells the King made but he wouldn’t stop, almost as if he thought shouting would get him out of this. The brothers stood around him creating an inner circle. The crippled one looked over his shoulder, an evil grin spreading across his face before he crawled his way over to you. His hands grabbed your clothes as he heaved himself up your body. Your wrists screamed in protest at the extra weight he applied to your bonds and desperately you closed your eyes hoping to block him out. The pain was unbearable, the feel of his hot breath covered your skin and you wanted nothing more than to kick him away.

“You will watch,” he spat, grabbing your face so you had no choice but to look into his turbulent gaze, the smell of his leather bracer clogged your nose. “You took our father from us,” he carried on in broken English. “And now, we will take yours.” His touch slithered back down your body, his teeth bright against the dirt on his face as he continued to smirk at you until he returned to the tree stump. Other Vikings were placed in a semi circle around them all watching intently as if they knew what was going to happen.

The tall one approached your father, ripping the back off his tunic in a single pull, from where you were tied you could see everything. A red hot blade was pulled from the flames and all the Vikings leaned in with anticipation. Your father cried out in pain, the sound of searing flesh reached your ears followed by a smell that had you gagging. It was dragged down your fathers spine, the skin almost breaking gratefully apart to create a welt down his back. You couldn’t look away watching in horror as they peeled the very skin off your fathers back.

Everything about you itched with fear and a heaviness for the life you had once lived rested on your soul.

Your lips moved, whispering words out into the void as you begged for forgiveness. Your body cried out to be saved but even now you knew no one was listening. The God you had once looked up to you and trusted with your life was nowhere to be found. Your tears tasted bitter on the corners of your mouth, continuing to spit out words in desperation yet you knew they did nothing to serve you.

As you watched them butcher your father your eyes were drawn to the youngest Ragnarsson. He slipped off the wooden stump, his gaze locked with the Kings and he crept forward. You knew what he was doing and it made you sick to your stomach. A gleeful smile twisted his features when your father finally stopped crying out, the life in his body visibly draining away. Nausea rippled through your own body making it clench your twisted stomach so that it emptied, the sound of your fathers ribs cracking would be a noise you’d have nightmares about for years. Blood made the ground even more slick, it had splashed up onto the brothers faces yet they did nothing to wipe it away. Standing and silently watching as the biggest extracted the entirety of his revenge on the King.

You must have blacked out, the next thing you knew it was daylight, pain eviscerated the muscles in your arms and you fell unceremoniously to the floor. Your eyes fluttered open only to be faced with the sight of your dead father strung up before you. He looked like an Angel with his skin spread out and you sniggered knowing that was one thing your father could never be. Were you next? You didn’t care, your body was broken and bruised if anything death would be a release right now.

—

It was peaceful, the mist hung low over the water of the river. Silence clung to every particle only dispersing when the oars broke the surface of the water, a soft sound that relaxed you. If you closed your eyes you imagined you were on an English boat, gliding through the stillness on a crisp morning. But when you felt movement beside you that illusion was shattered. You had no idea why but the youngest son, Ivar, had taken to being at your side. He watched you all the time, his piercing gaze boring right down into your soul. To your relief the other Vikings left you alone but from what you could gather they were concentrating on getting to Wessex to kill King Ecbert. Out of habit you said a quick prayer hoping your sister and her children had at least made it from the villa but it went unnoticed.

You had given up weeping, tears did not serve you, they just attracted attention and you were hoping to eventually slip through the cracks. While they were busy with the ransacking of Wessex you hoped to escape, maybe you’d die but maybe you’d make it.

You picked at the wood on the side of the boat, catching your nail and pulling. This tiny sensation was all that kept you from spiralling into nothingness, the pain started as you applied more pressure and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Hissing you gave it a final push, the nail finally splintered, ripping a chunk off and blood welled up from the wound. Instantly hands were on you, his body covered yours as he responded to your noise.

“What did you do that for, huh?” His English had improved rapidly and it shocked you a little that this heathen seemed fairly intelligent. He lifted your finger to his mouth but you snatched it back watching the amusement play around his mouth. He grabbed your hand, this time applying enough pressure to make you cry out drawing the attention of the Viking that stood next to you both. This was his brother Hvitserk. Closing your eyes and turning away you had no choice but to let Ivar take your finger in his mouth. His tongue was warm as he licked the wound, repulsion curling all your insides into one another at the sensation. His spit dribbled down your wrist and finally you struggled enough so he released you, wiping his chin and grinning at you.

“Careful now dröttning. Don’t want to get sick.”

“Ivar.” The other brother, Ubbe stepped up beside you looking over the edge of the boat. “We’re here.” You felt your heart thump a little harder in your chest as they all started to move, the boat jolted as it grounded itself against the embankment. They jumped off the edge of the boat, the first thing they did was take you ashore. A pole was shoved into the ground and you were tied against it, your arms wrenched behind your back so no matter how you stood it wasn’t comfortable. All you could do now was observe. They unloaded quickly and efficiently, the camp only taking hours to take shape, Ivar sat on a seat near you overseeing the unloading of his chariot and horse. You tried to ignore a Northman that was staring at you, his head tilted slightly to the side. He had tattoos across his face and a long single braid down his back. His clothes were slightly different telling you he was of higher standing than most of the others and he had a sword. His boots squelched in the mud as he approached, which Ivar noticed almost immediately.

“Harald,” he called. “What do you think of my dröttning?” Your knowledge of their language was getting better, the need to understand drove you to listen and learn.

“What are you going to do with her Ivar?” He reached out and flicked the damage material of your clothes, his eyes raking over your exposed skin with a hungry look. “Is she for entertainment?” Ivar’s expression hardened slightly even though it never changed. His eyes seemed to darken in colour, the quick movement of his lips against his teeth was all that gave away how much he disliked the question.

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with her,” his tone was light and dismissive as he turned away to watch some Vikings chop wood. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something. In the meantime, she is not to be harmed.” You both watched as he crawled away and you relaxed in your bindings. From what you’d seen the Ragnarsson’s words held power here and you were sure this, Harald would listen. You hoped anyway.

—

Once the encampment was erected fully you were moved, dragged away from the river's edge and dumped near a shelter where food was being served. Your hands were bound but they were in front of you for a change so you took the opportunity to roll your shoulders trying to ease the ache that plagued them. The brothers were all sitting down wrapped in cloaks and warm furs, feasting on the freshly caught wildlife. The smell of the wild stag they were cooking over the fire made your stomach growl loudly and you watched intently as they all ate with gusto. Hvitserk leaned forward, deftly slicing off a chunk of meat. To your surprise he got up and approached you, crouching down he held it out to you yet still you hesitated. Glancing up at him he smiled a little, offering you the meat again. Your hands were filthy, covered in the mud from the ground and it coated the food as soon as you took it but you didn’t care. It was delicious, your teeth tearing into the softness of the meat, the juices dripping off your chin and he gave a little chuckle.

He moved back to sit with the rest and you concentrated on what Ivar was saying. It seemed he was insulting your fellow Englishmen with Björn disagreeing at every turn.

“I can only see what my eyes tell me Björn and what I see is frightened people running before us. I see their spineless God running away from our Gods.” You hated how you automatically agreed with him. Where was your God? It seemed he had abandoned your people in the face of these many Gods that the Heathens worshipped. How could you compete? One never faired well against the many. The argument continued as they dismissed their youngest brother but you had the feeling this Viking was not to be underestimated.

Being the youngest daughter of King Ælle you were mainly left to your own devices until he found someone for you to marry and take you away. You took it upon yourself to learn to read and write, your cousin Mannel had given you secret sparring lessons and you observed interactions between men. Hiding in the shadows and mainly going unnoticed you knew far more than your father ever believed. You had watched the dynamic between the brothers for over a week now, Björn and Ubbe being the eldest were the calmer ones. Trying to keep their brothers from fighting and yet they all would argue with Ivar, telling him he knows nothing at the first chance they had. Ivar may be the youngest like you but you saw in him a rebellious nature that you could relate to. If you hadn’t been born worlds apart you’d have possibly got on rather well. The name Ragnar pulled you back, all the brothers were staring at each other with almost undisguised hatred and you mentally kicked yourself for not listening.

“So this was what the grunting of the little pigs was all about,” a tall Viking chastised. As one they turned to look at Floki, you hid a small smirk and leaned against your pole. It seemed no matter where you were from, family was a problem.

—

The days blended together in a blur of misery and mud. You felt cold all the time, tied to this pole with nowhere to shelter against the rain. Not once did you complain, the brothers kept an eye on you but really it was only Hvitserk who seemed to care about keeping you fed and watered. You had spied King Harald a few times watching you but he didn’t approach you, much to your relief. Keeping yourself tucked into a ball not many people paid you much attention. Thinking you couldn’t understand what they were saying you were privy to all the information that was brought to the Ragnarssons. Listening closely as reports came in of a Saxon army, Æthelwulf leading the charge from the gates of Wessex. If he defeated the Vikings you would be saved and returned to your dreary life in Northumbria. You weren’t sure what was better, slowly dying here in the mud or slowly dying behind the scenes of the royal throne in Northumbria.

“Floki let me take her,” you looked up to see Helga. One of the few women you observed not to be a shieldmaiden, she had a teenager under her arm. A girl with long flowing dark hair who looked like her soul had died. Her eyes held no life, clearly a shell of who she once was. “She will get sick.”

“Alright take her. But make sure she doesn’t get away,” he hissed before stalking off. Your rope was placed in her hands meaning you had no choice but to follow her. She took you and the younger girl a little way from encampment and stepped towards the river.

“Wash,” she said in Anglo-Saxon, pointing at you. “Wash.” You didn’t even remove your clothes, stepping into the water you gasped at the chill but you did shed yourself of as much mud as possible. Dragging your fingers as best as you could through your hair you ducked down under the water. The rope tugged and you broke the surface wishing you could have stayed under there and slipped away unnoticed. Helga pulled you back to the bank, her kohl rimmed eyes were slightly wide as she watched you. “Come on, let’s dry you and give you some clean clothes.” By the time you got to her little hut you were shivering uncontrollably, even your feet felt numb and she pushed you towards the fire pit in the middle. She removed the rope and you let her strip your clothes off, her hands pausing when she saw your scars. Carefully she traced the outline on your side. “Where did you get this?” You didn’t respond, staring deep into the glow of the fire as you remembered. The echoes of pain licked at you causing you to shiver and not with the cold. Helga wrapped you in a thick fur and forced you to the ground. All the while the young girl just stared into space and you wondered if that was going to be you soon, soulless and devoid of life. A cup of some steaming mead was shoved in your hands and you guzzled it quickly, snuggling down as you finally began to dry off and warm up.

Helga approached you with a dress, gesturing for you to stand up. Her eyes were drawn to the silver cross that dangled around your neck and she reached for it. Turning it over in the firelight she held it up before your face.

“This cannot save you.” She furrowed her brow and sighed like she was disappointed in you. Letting it fall back against your skin, she lifted the dress and you shed the fur to slip into the coarse clothing she put on you.

“Helga!” A trickle of dread weaved its way down your spine at the sound of his sing-song voice. The thud of his hands on the ground followed by the drag of his legs. He heaved himself inside, pulling his legs round with a grunt. “Was she good?” He asked brightly.

“Yes, but she wears this,” she told him, grabbing the cross out from under the collar of the dress. To your surprise he grinned leaning forward slightly he squinted at the silver cross.

“So? We know she’s a Christian,” his accent made the word almost spit out of him. “Soon she will see that her God is nothing compared to ours.” You felt Helga press a pair of boots against your leg, the hide was supple in your hands and you gratefully put them on. The fur you had dried in was placed around your shoulders and you clutched at the edges fearful that someone might take it from you. “Come dröttning. Let’s go and find your kin.” You looked back at Helga but she was already focussed on the girl who’s name you didn’t even know so you had no choice but to follow Ivar.

You watched him pull himself up into his chariot, standing awkwardly to the side you waited. Your gaze lifted, seeing the weapons on Ivar’s belt and a reckless scenario played out before you of a daring escape after killing the Northman. Twisting your hands together you let out a soft breath, watching it mist before you in the cold air. Ivar sat in his seat, a knowing look on his face as his hands rested casually on the pommel, the reins loose in his grip.

“Get up,” he demanded in Saxon.

“Where are we going?” It was the first time you’d really spoken out loud in days and your throat felt scratchy. You asked even though you knew Judith's husband Prince Æthelwulf had raised an army to counter the Vikings but you weren’t sure it was enough. The Northmen certainly weren’t worried.

“We are going to find your brother by marriage,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly. “Now get up,” he told you, inclining his head to the chariot. You took a step back only to thump into the chest of Ubbe. His hands wedged under your armpits and lifted you forcefully into the chariot to stand next to Ivar.

“You’ve stayed alive this long,” he murmured looking up at you. His blue eyes flicked to Ivar before he stepped away, knocking his hand on the side of the chariot. Ivar shook the reins jolting his horse into motion and you held tightly onto the wooden side, spreading your legs automatically to balance yourself.

—

The army was like a snake, weaving its way through the countryside in a long line. The brothers walked around the chariot like a personal guard, Björn walking next to Ivar’s horse near the front. Hvitserk was beside you wrapped in his cloak and furs, no one spoke until the sound of a galloping horse made everyone look up.

“Stop!” Yelled Björn, bringing the company to a halt as the rider approached. You tried to look puzzled even disinterested when the rider told them the Saxon army was less than a days ride away. The scout said the army was large but Björn didn’t even comment, just saying they were going to camp here and tomorrow face Æthelwulf in battle. Ivar watched his brothers for a moment as the horns blasted through the trees of the woodland alerting the rest of the army to what was happening.

“You can make camp. I want to take a look at where we are going to fight.” They turned as one at Ivar’s words.

“What are you talking about?” Asked Ubbe.

“They will expect us to fight in a certain way,” Ivar explained. “Why should we do that?” It took all of your control not to show your surprise at his words. If the Vikings changed from well known tactics the Prince didn’t stand a chance. “Why don’t we plan to fight in a different way and surprise them?” Hvitserk stepped closer followed by Björn who looked thoroughly annoyed that Ivar had even suggested something out of the ordinary.

“Our warriors won’t understand what’s happening. We fight in a shieldwall, that’s how we fight,” Hvitserk said.

“But we have a bigger army now. And they have a bigger army now, Hvitserk. We cannot fight in the same way.” You didn’t move, your hands curling over the edge of the chariot as you intently listened, you agreed with Ivar, smashing two armies together with such vast numbers could mean the battle lasted for days not to mention the number of casualties.

“It’s too late to change now,” Sigurd spoke up and instantly everything about Ivar changed, his posture tensed, the tone of his voice grew deeper and you could sense the dislike they had for each other.

“Who are you to say that? Shut your mouth,” he scolded, squaring his shoulders slightly.

“We are brothers,” interrupted Björn. “Together.” He looked at them all before sighing slightly. “Why do you want to change the tactics?” He asked Ivar.

“Do you want to win, brother?” You could see the youngest Ragnarsson was trying not to lose his temper as he attempted to get Björn on side, if he did that the rest would follow without question. “Come with me Björn,” he pleaded softly. “Let’s investigate the battlefield. Perhaps instead of the narrow and small place we should stretch the battle over a large area. Many miles, and use the landscape. Ditches, hills, woods…” he paused. Ubbe looked at Björn, a passive expression on his face, Hvitserk nodded slightly as though admitting to himself that Ivar’s idea was worth investigating. Björn pondered in quiet for a moment, exchanging a look with Ubbe before he spoke.

“If it works, then it is a good plan. If it doesn’t, then it is a bad plan.” You refrained from smirking at the big Vikings logic. Yes, Ivar was definitely the smartest out of them.

“What do you say, dröttning?” Suddenly all their gazes were on you but you refused to feel flustered at the direct attention.

“About what?” You asked quickly, pretending you had no idea what they’d been saying. Hvitserk laughed out loud running a hand over his chin, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement. Ivar smirked, uncrossing his arms so he could turn to look at you next to him.

“I may be a cripple but I am not stupid.” You opened your mouth to protest and claim all innocence but Björn was already mounting a horse, the other brothers backing up to give him and Ivar room.

“What are you waiting for?” He called, kicking the horse in the sides and charging off. Ivar studied your features for a few more seconds as though he could see right through you. Maybe he could.

—

You knew this countryside, where Ivar had chosen to meet Æthelwulf in battle, was a place you would have picked as well. The Saxons would approach from the bottom of the hill, making them expend energy before the battle had even started but that was Ivar’s plan all along. Not to meet them head on in combat, but to drive Æthelwulf insane by toying with him, to lead him into a choice that Ivar predicted he would take. They mainly ignored you as they discussed battle tactics, wondering why, if Ivar suspected you knew more Norse than you let on, was he letting you hear all of this? Maybe he was that cocksure in your inability to escape.

“Good plan dröttning?” With a soft sigh you looked over the hillocks, the grassy clumps filling the steep decline from where you were standing. There was a woodland at the bottom all murky and dark with thick foliage. A deep ditch ran along the tree line, something horses could barely leap without breaking a leg. Drizzle settled on your skin and the fur around your shoulders sagged slightly in the fine wetness.

“I don’t know what the plan is,” you told him. Björn huffed, reining his horse round to gallop back to the Northman army. You expected Ivar to follow but he didn’t, his armour began to glisten in the dying light of the day as the drizzle collected on the surface.

“I know you think we are stupid. Some of us are,” he moved abruptly, barely giving you time to flinch as the blade of his knife was pressed against the side of your neck. His other hand grabbed the front of your clothes pulling you closer to him. “But I am not.”

“Forgive me Hlaford Ivar! I-I did not mean to cause offence!”

“What is this word…Hlaford?” He inquired, his eyes flitting over your face.

“It is a title you are worthy of,” you whispered. The knife moved up to stroke along your cheek and you saw he had a scar on his own, if you lived long enough maybe you’d hear how he received such a wound. He released you as though bored, throwing you against the side of the chariot making you hiss in surprise.

“You will come to battle tomorrow,” he sniffed, wiping the moisture that had collected on his nose. “I want to see Prince Æthelwulf look into your eyes and know he cannot save you.” Slapping the reins his horse responded but you frowned.

“You want me at the battle?”

“You are no stranger to a battle you were with your father. Why? I thought you Saxon women hid in your halls cowering behind your fake God.”

“It’s true. But I am not like other Saxon women,” you told him bristling slightly as his perception, your hand lifting out of habit to brush the hidden cross on your chest only to drop as soon as you’d done it.

“That I already know.” He snapped the reins and his horse broke into a canter shutting down the conversation.

—

Back with the army you were trussed up by Hvitserk, his hazel eyes were kinder than his brothers and he seemed more gentle but he was still a Viking and you’d seen him fight against your own soldiers. He adjusted the fur on your shoulders, pulling it more around you quickly making eye contact before he exited the makeshift hut you were in. Looking around you saw a bed, some chairs and a small table set with some plates of food. It wasn't much but you wondered who was going to be staying in here with you. At least you were out of the weather, and there was grass underfoot rather than slick mud. Sliding down to sit you tried to get as comfortable as you could, ignoring the food that was just out of your reach. Light streamed in when the flap was shoved to the side revealing the last person you expected to see.

King Harald stalked towards you with dark intent clouding his eyes and you opened your mouth to scream. The sound was muffled by his hand over your face, lifting you effortlessly with the other and ramming you against the pole you were tied to.

“It’s unfair for Ivar to keep you all to himself,” he growled in your ear as you squirmed against him. You pleaded but it fell on deaf ears, jamming your thighs together but still he lifted your dress and forced them apart. You heaved your body to try and dislodge him but all he did was chuckle softly against your cheek. “Such pretty squealing.” As you squeezed your eyes shut, tears were forced to fall down your face, the muscles in your thighs screaming at the invasion as he ran his hand higher to your groin. If you could shove him away, make him stumble you could have got the leverage to kick him or head butt him in the nose, anything to dislodge him. His breath was panting against your face, his body suffocating yours when he pressed in closer, the ridges of his leather armour cutting into you.

“Did Ivar give you permission, King Harald?” Your eyes flew open to see Björn holding up a knife as though inspecting the edge of the blade. To your relief Harald withdrew his hand, straightening up slightly and you wasted no time in throwing your head forward. Your forehead connected forcefully with his nose making him cry out and stumble back. He went to step towards you in anger but Björn grabbed his arm, halting him. “I wouldn’t.” He warned.

“What does he want with some spoilt girl anyway?” Exclaimed Harald. “What’s the point of her if we can’t fuck her?”

“He thinks the Saxons will bargain for her or something. So she is to remain unharmed,” Björn told him.

“I wasn’t going to ruin her completely. Since when did we start taking orders from Ivar?” Björn glared at the shorter man for a moment before answering.

“Come, let us drink and I will tell you what we have planned for tomorrow.” To your relief they left and you flopped back to the floor allowing yourself to take a deep breath. Emotion gathered in your chest but you refused to let it out, pursing your lips together to stop them quivering. You highly doubted Æthelwulf would even consider bargaining for your life, you were the youngest of 4 what use were you to the line of succession? Hanging your head low your thoughts went again to what would happen to you once the Vikings found out you were a useless prisoner. Hopefully they killed you quickly but you doubted it.

You must have dozed because the next thing you knew Ivar was sitting in front of you, a plate of food on his strapped legs as he watched you with curiosity.

“Ah, she wakes.” Your shoulders ached and your body was tired from being uncomfortable not to mention the pain in your stomach from being hungry. You tried not to look at his plate but the bread looked delicious, the meat although cold would still taste fantastic. You looked away trying not to show interest but your stomach growled loudly and Ivar smirked. “Hungry?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I could eat,” you replied. He shuffled closer until his shoulder brushed against yours.

“Open,” he coaxed you softly, holding a piece of bread in his fingers.

“If you just bring my hands…” your words died when he grabbed your chin.

“I said, open.” His fingers dug into your face, forcing your jaw to open enough to shove the bread past your teeth with his thumb. “There. Wasn’t hard was it?” He spoke with a gleeful tone which you tried not to glare at him for. “Open,” he demanded again and this time you complied. He slipped the meat into your mouth, trailing a finger over your lip, his eyes watching your face intently. “Good girl,” he breathed. You let him feed you, ignoring the little touches he gave your lips, your chin, your cheeks. His eyes never left you save to dip down to the plate and back up to you as he placed more food in your mouth. Next he offered you some mead, the liquid spilling past your lips but you didn’t care, it was the most satisfied you’d felt since they had captured you. Licking your lips you let out a hmm of contentment.

To your surprise he untied you from the pole but the rope remained around your wrists, your hands were almost numb and dried blood marking the bindings from your struggle earlier.

“Get on the bed.” You didn’t even question it, stumbling as best as you could onto the fur laden cot and laying down snuggling your face into the hides. Ivar forcefully turned you over and fear made you rigid as he yanked your hands up attaching them to the base of the cot so you were stretched out beneath him. Ivar smirked at your lips clenched together, the rapid rise of your chest and the blank expression on your face as you glared at him. Daring him to try it with you. “Go to sleep dröttning.” He lay down next to you, his armour digging into your side as he draped an arm over your stomach but soon his breathing was even enough for you to relax. You studied him in the dying firelight, his hair was growing out from a shorter cut and you found yourself wondering how soft it was.

Because of who you were and your station you should not have any experience of being this close to a man, but you did. A holy man no less, but you had accepted his advances without a care in the world. You had a reckless streak, a sense of contemptment for your position in this world. You did everything someone of your standing shouldn’t do but you had slipped under your fathers notice plenty of times.

Ivar shifted, tucking himself impossibly closer to you and you tensed a little out of reflex. This was probably one of the most dangerous Northman you’d ever encountered and he was currently using you as a pillow. A weakness you could play on, his unspoken need for reassurance, comfort, maybe even love. He was, after all, human.

—

Your seat on the chariot was uncomfortable. Ivar sat you on the bar in front of his own seat, his hands holding the reins either side of you as you raced through the countryside. Your hands were bound but you’d managed to plead your way out of a gag, not that Ivar cared. As far as he was concerned you weren’t getting close enough to the Saxons to say anything anyway. The wooden bar jarred your coccyx as the chariot ran over the uneven ground, you leaned forward slightly hoping to relieve the pressure.

You crested the hill, Ivar pulling his horse to a stop and looked down the line of the army. It spread all the way across the top of the hill, flags snapping in the brisk breeze. You could see the Saxons at the bottom with their own banners tugging on the flag poles, Æthelwulf was there on his mount. You had no particular feelings towards your sister’s husband, only having met him a couple of times when the courts mingled.

You expected your heart to melt with homesickness, you thought seeing him would have you scrabbling over the edge of the chariot in desperation. But none of that happened. A cool indifference seemed to settle on your shoulders, even when the Prince saw you, recognition dawning on his bearded face as he yelled instructions, no doubt for your rescue. One you weren’t sure you wanted. The drums silenced and a hush settled over the field as the two sides sized each other up. It was a habit to want a weapon in your hand, staring at this many soldiers made you jittery even if they were your kin.

Ivar pulled gently on his reins, the horse turning away with the rest of the heathens but you kept your eyes trained on Æthelwulf until it felt like your back was breaking. The blare of a horn broke the grey stillness and you finally dragged your attention to your hands. The blood on the rope now brown with age, your wrists still raw and split but it was a pain you were used to a pain you were willing to put up with.

The trees swallowed up the army, the mist and murkiness of the English countryside offering you cover to sneak behind Æthelwulf’s forces. And so the game began. From where you were with Ivar in the trees you heard the arrows fly, the shouts of the Saxons, the orders from the Prince as his men fell around him. Their defence was meagre at best, a mild attempt of protection at a foe they couldn’t see. Ivar’s plan was working. The positioning was perfect, his foresight unparalleled and you had no doubt the rest of his tactics were going to work. You waited for it, the heaviness of your heart, the disappointment at your lack of rescue but still, it did not come.

The sounds stopped. Ivar leaned forward in the quiet, his breath warm on the back of your neck as he wrapped a hand around your throat.

“You see dröttning?” He whispered. “No one can save you.” His fingers tightened possessively around the front of your throat, his face almost pressed against the side of your own. The closeness reminded you of being in his bed and the fear died down to just a shimmer over your skin. You had no doubt this man could end you and think nothing of it but also…he’d kept you alive.

He released you, gesturing to Floki and the Vikings began to move to the top of the hill once more. The big Viking was winded, leaning heavily on the chariot as Ivar rested nonchalantly in his seat. You heard the yells, saw the Saxons charging up the hill once more, the ground slick with sticky mud, churned up by hooves and feet alike.

“Mmmmm, four blasts,” Ivar told Floki.

“If you say so,” he gasped lifting the massive horn and blowing four deep rumbles across the field.

—

I moved on from this bit 😅 a huge chunk is missing.

—

You watched as one of Ivar’s men approached with a slave girl. You looked her up and down as she walked forward, trailing a hand across the back of Ivar’s chair. Her dress was simple, a deep red colour that made her blondeness stand out against it. She was pretty and instantly captured Ivar’s attention much to your annoyance.

“Slave,” his voice rung out in the church, echoing back to you slightly and you thought how much nicer it sounded in here than a priests voice chanting useless words to his congregation. “You know who I am?”

“Of course,” her voice had a melodic quality making it pleasing to listen to. “You are Ivar,” she stated simply. Turning on your heel the sound reverberated in the almost empty hall and Ivar cast a quick glance at you but her attention never wavered from him.

“Ivar,” he sounded almost disappointed at the lack of the rest of his name. His head tilted forward watching her come towards him and you allowed yourself a quick smirk. “Is that it?”

“No. Ivar the Boneless.”

“You don’t…seem afraid of me.” You trailed your hand over the gilded curve of his seat again, daring to brush the ends of his hair as you glared at the slave. She smiled, creating a heat to prickle under your skin.

“No.”

“We are expecting to be attacked by the Saxons, they have a large army outside of these walls. We must ask the Gods for help. We must offer them a sacrifice.” The chair creaked loudly as he leaned forward, the aged wood protesting from the movement. He crossed his arms and you carried on walking, your dress raking quietly along the floor. “Would you be willing to offer yourself as a sacrifice?”

“I will do anything you ask me to do,” she replied confidently. You studied the stone wall almost hating yourself for needing to turn around as the blood rushes past your ears. Ivar slumped back in the seat spreading his arms resting them on the arms of the chair.

“Then take off your clothes.”

“Is that really necessary?” The words slipped from you as you turned on your heel again but Ivar held up a hand to silence you, never taking his eyes off the slave. To your dismay she began to remove her dress, slipping the shoulders over her slim figure to let it pool at her feet. You looked away, wanting to march from this place but you also knew that where Ivar was you had to be. It was the condition of you being allowed to roam free, if that’s what you could call it.

“Come closer,” you recognised the tone of Ivar’s voice, the coaxing playfulness he used when he wanted his own way. Clutching your hands together you dug your fingernails into your skin, concentrating on the pain and not what was happening in front of you. Refusing to recognise the burning feeling in your chest that intensified with each step the slave girl took. She stopped at the first step clearly not wanting to overstep her boundaries but you saw the self satisfied look on her face that Ivar the Boneless himself was admiring her naked form. “Kiss me,” your heart jumped at the sound of his plea. The whispered words, still loud enough to echo against the stone pillars and you grit your teeth trying to erase them from your mind. Finally your body found the motor function to move as she mounted his lap. Turning slightly you headed to the burning candles on the altar, carefully dancing your fingers among the flames in an effort to burn away what was happening behind you. The sound of Ivar’s sigh had your stomach clenching with jealousy, a nauseating feeling crept up the back of your throat and you coughed lightly.

“I-I don’t understand,” he breathed.

“I know you’re a cripple, Boneless. But let me tell you something. Your deformity means that the Gods favour you, especially. I’ve always known that. I’ve always looked for people who are born different. Because that’s the true sign. You are a very special person. Nobody else here is like you.” You sneaked a look over your shoulder to see she was still seated on his lap like a tavern whore. She leaned forward to speak into his ear but her eyes were trained on you. “You are destined for great things.” Your gaze narrowed. How dare she come and throw herself at him like this, filling his head with nonsense. You still had much to learn about the Norse Gods but you were going to learn from people like Floki and not listen to the poison that dripped from this slave.

“You are free to go,” Ivar finally said. Your hand came down onto the altar knocking a candle over to splatter onto the floor.

“Do you not want me to…?”

“No, no you don't understand. You’re a free woman now.” Lifting your eyes up to the ceiling, you questioned his state of mind at this moment. She was the perfect candidate for a sacrifice and although the practice was new to you, this wouldn’t have been someone you missed. “Leave.” She walked away, grabbing her dress and sauntering down to the door where the guards waited.

“She would have been perfect,” you commented dryly, picking wax off the hem of your dress and trying to appear indifferent.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, turning to regard you with a furrowed brow.

“She was willing, isn’t that what you…we look for?”

“Then we shall just find someone else,” he said matter-of-factly. He leaned over the arm of the chair, that evil knowing sneer slithering across his face. “Were you jealous dröttning?” You scoffed loudly while still looking at the weave of your own garment even though your eyes were out of focus.

“Of a slave girl?”

“Of a free woman,” he reminded you slowly. “I could take her for my wife if I so wished.”

“You can do whatever you like. You are Ivar the Boneless,” you replied, forcing all emotion out of your voice. He eyed you for a moment before changing the subject completely.

“I heard King Æthelwulf arrived with his wife and sons to increase the numbers of these warrior priests.”

“The Knights Templar,” you whispered, ignoring the way he just slipped in the mention of your family.

“You need a set band of warriors to fight on behalf of your god?” He asked in disbelief. “The arrogance, he must be a great god indeed!” He reached for his spiked cane, lifting himself off the chair using the arm to steady himself. You chose not to respond, was it arrogant? Where was your god? He let the Vikings into his sacred halls, defiling everything without any repercussions. The scream from the priest as Ivar poured the gold into his mouth still lingered at the edge of your thoughts. The way Hvitserk butchered the nun at the back of the church after he’d had his way with her still turned your stomach. His blood stained face would haunt your nightmares for months and you were grateful Ivar hadn’t seen fit to treat you in such a way.

You tried not to be affected, you desperately tried not to see because you needed to survive. Ivar seemed to show an interest in you for now and you couldn’t let his interest run out. You knew if that day came, it was the day your life ended.

—

You sat at the table as Ivar ate, staring hard at your plate. You tried to ignore the Viking sitting on your right. Hvitserk sighed with frustration as he looked at his brother swigging out of his cup before he spoke. His arm settled on the table and you involuntarily jerked away from him causing Ivar to stop his brother mid sentence.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked incredulously.

“I’m just not hungry,” you breathed.

“No, eat. You’re going to need it.”

“Ivar, would you listen to me?” Hvitserk seemed utterly oblivious to your fear of him. You don’t know why it had unsettled you so much, you saw Björn blood eagle your father, you witnessed Ivar’s sharp battle tactics and the whole army’s ruthlessness. But Hvitserk…the one brother you were beginning to like because he brought you food and blankets. Because he seemed more mellow than the rest had shocked you to your very centre. You weren’t an innocent wallflower by any stretch of the imagination, your hands had been coated with blood more than once, animal and human. Your cousin had prepared you as well as he could for battle, he told you the horrors of war but he didn’t mention that.

You listened as Ivar taunted Hvitserk, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as your heart raced frantically. Angry Hvitserk was not something you could deal with today, flinching when he slammed his cup down and left to a chorus of laughter.

“You shouldn’t anger him like that,” you whispered.

“What? Not allowed to torment my own brother?” Ivar continued to eat the meat off the bone, his attention on you now his entertainment had gone. Settling back in his chair he had some of his mead and wiped his face giving a little satisfied gasp. “What has happened? Hvitserk, did he hurt you?”

“No,” you frowned. You put your arms around yourself suddenly feeling very cold. Ivar cast a glance down the hall, dragging his tongue over the front of his teeth as he tried to figure out what had happened. “Then why are you so frightened of him?”

“Tell me about the gods,” you blurted.

“Why? What good would knowledge of our gods be for a Kristinn like you?” He sneered the word at you, making your skin crawl. Your fingers fumbled blindly for the chain around your neck, wrenching it so the silver cut into your flesh, breaking from the force of your pull. Raising your gaze to meet Ivar’s, you slammed the cross onto the table. He sat up slightly rolling his shoulder before he reached for the offending piece of jewellery.

“I don’t want it anymore. I have forsaken him the way he has forsaken me.” Sadness welled inside you and for a second it felt like you were going to break but you stayed strong. Curling your fingers into your dress as Ivar picked up the chain, dangling the still warm cross between you both.

“This is all you have left,” he told you even though you already knew.

“I don’t. Want it.” It took all your composure not to flinch when he tossed it over his shoulder, flinging the cross into the mud and filth that lined the floor of what was once a house of god. His eyes studied you closely looking for any sign of weakness, waiting to pounce and exploit it as much as he could. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction and he grinned lazily, settling back into his chair as he picked up his knife.

“What do you want to know?”

—

You’d been confined to your room for a few days slowly going crazy and finding yourself missing the company of Ivar and even Hvitserk. Although his face covered in blood still haunted your nightmares, his smile and soft voice sometimes entered your dreams. Staring out of the window you could see activity down in the streets and you wondered if the Vikings ever stopped. They constantly seemed busy, always doing or building something.

You turned as your door opened to reveal Ivar standing there, his blue eyes resting on you by the window, that knife swinging from his fingers as usual. A cocky lopsided grin turned up the corner of his mouth.

“Come on,” he said as though he’s been waiting for you this whole time. You almost charged after him so grateful to see someone other than the thrall who never spoke when she delivered your food.

“Where are we going?” You asked, desperate to have some form of conversation even if it was with your captor.

“I want to show you something,” he replied. He led you to the very edge where an abandoned building made of stone stood. He paused outside leaning forcefully on his cane as you peered through the open door. “Go,” he ordered you gesturing inside. All your nerves seemed to come alight as you stepped over the threshold hoping you weren’t going to be brutally murdered. The entryway was small but it soon opened up into a wide area and in the middle was a large bath. Ivar’s cane rang out loudly in this space but your gaze was drawn to the mosaics, running your hands over the smooth tile and rough grout not even sure what the picture was trying to tell you. On the other side Ivar lowered himself onto a seat, seeming content to watch your fingers dance over the different colours on the wall. Next you crouched by the water, dipping your fingertips just below the water line. It was warm, deliciously warm. Curling your hand into a fist you stood, wishing you could slip in and wash the grime from your body and you wondered if Ivar brought you here to tease you.

“Are you going to get in?” Sharply you looked up, noticing the table was laden with food and a flagon mead.

“In here?” You pointed at the water by your feet and Ivar smirked.

“If you want I can have you locked back up…” he made to get up but your voice echoed loudly in protest. He sat back down and you let the noise of your shout diminish before speaking again.

“No, I—I would like to get in.” He waved a hand dismissively and poured himself a drink. You didn’t care that he was here, you didn’t care that he could see you, so needy you were for the touch of warm water over your skin you stripped immediately. Trailing your hands through the water you sighed, ducking down to feel the caress just under your chin. The water was glorious, smooth and soft, warm and comforting so much so that a soft groan left you that bounced off the walls. You wet your hair, dragging your hands through it, releasing knots and shedding yourself of weeks of dirt. So lost in enjoying yourself you didn’t see someone else enter until he spoke.

“You not getting in brother?” Hvitserk was already half undressed when you saw him standing at the edge looking over at Ivar. You retreated to the far corner keeping yourself covered by the murky water trying to look anywhere else but Hvitserk as he pulled off his boots and leather britches. He laughed, making a show of splashing as he stepped into the pool before hunkering down like you were with a rough moan of satisfaction. “The water is perfect. How did you find this place?” He rested his arms on the side, back to you as he spoke to Ivar and your eyes were drawn to the dark lines on his skin.

“I look Hvitserk, I take an interest. I don’t intend on leaving this place so why not make myself at home.” Ivar stabbed a piece of fruit, his icy gaze sliding to you but you didn’t see. Captivated by the marking on Hvitserk’s arm and shoulder you didn’t realise you’d crept closer until you heard how quiet it was. Looking up you saw the older of the two watching you with those hazel eyes and a half smile.

“Like it?” He asked, peering over his own shoulder. “Want a closer look?” He turned to face you but you were already moving, the water sloshing around with each movement and all you could think about was getting out. Their gazes burned into your skin as you hurriedly slipped the dress back over your now soaking body, ringing your hair out so it splashed onto the side.

“Can I go?” You asked Ivar, barely bringing yourself to look at him in the eye as he lazed comfortably in his chair.

“Vik!” He called and a guard appeared from outside. “Take her back to her room.” He grabbed your arm like you were going to run away but you just accepted it, you’d seen what they did to people who fought back.

—

You didn’t sleep that night. Maybe it was the impending battle, you had no idea what was going to happen. With a sigh you got off the bed, thankful that Ivar had let you have some privacy. Your hand instantly went to the vacant spot on your chest, the lack of your cross a burning reminder of what you’d said to Ivar. For a fleeting moment you wondered if you should retrieve the cross but then you thought, why should I? You owed him nothing. The god had abandoned you and now you needed to find a way to survive without him. Padding over to the window you looked at the plumes of smoke that rose into the moonlit sky, soon the fires would be out and then the battle would commence.

“I had this made for you.” You looked up from eating your breakfast in the dullness of the early dawn. Ivar stood by the bed you had tossed and turned in all night as a slave girl stepped around him holding what looked like armour. Standing and running you hand over the leather you gazed up at him in surprise.

“Ivar…”

“You are to stay with me at all times,” he demanded. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin what I have planned,” he spoke with a self satisfied smirk, his custom made dagger swirling round his finger as he leaned on his crutch. “Get ready.” He swiftly cast his blue eyes over you before leaving. The slave got to work straight away encasing you in the armour. It covered your torso and arms, chainmail hung from the shoulders where the lamellar didn’t reach and supple leather fingerless gloves were slipped over your hands. You tested your range of movement and found it didn’t hinder you at all, made perfectly for your shape and size.

You were led outside where you saw Ivar and Hvitserk overseeing the army disappearing underground. Hvitserk turned as you approached his hazel roamed appreciatively over you for a moment before judging his brother. Your eyes were drawn to the small belt and hilt in Ivar’s hand daring to hope that would finally see fit to give you a weapon. To your disappointment he passed it to Hvitserk.

“This is clever,” you murmured. Instantly you knew what he had done, the boats had been moved, the fires burned, the place ransacked and empty to give the illusion that the Vikings had left when in fact they hadn’t at all.

“I knew you’d appreciate it dröttning.” You flinched when you felt Hvitserk’s hands around your waist, the belt pulling taught and you jolted slightly trying to fight the rising bile that crept up the back of your throat. “Use the seax only if you need to,” Ivar tossed at you as you delicately ran your hand over the hilt. “I do not want to see it aimed in my direction.” He looked up at the sky squinting as the sun finally began to crest over the horizon. “Let us go.” You were the last ones down into the sewers, the smell made you cough and your eyes water but you obediently followed Ivar with Hvitserk right on your heels. Now, you waited.

It felt hours when finally the rumble of feet sounded overhead and you gasped as Hvitserk grabbed you. One hand pressed over your mouth and the other around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides. You knew better than the fight, refusing to let the fear overtake you but still your insides trembled and your skin sweated.

Shouts of joy sounded from above, the Saxons thought they had won, they thought the Vikings had abandoned their stronghold and again you found yourself admiring Ivar’s tactical prowess. He motioned for the ladders to go up and that’s when carnage was unleashed. The Saxons were unprepared, caught unaware as the Vikings spilled from the grates in the ground. Screams from citizens that had returned as well as from seasoned soldiers filled the air and the slaughter began. Ivar was lifted from the grate and you were roughly hauled up after him, Hvitserk pushing past you to clear the way for his brother. Your heart was pounding, there was fighting everywhere, noises shattered against your ears and you stumbled on the bodies of Saxons and Vikings alike. Ivar threw his knives with an ease and precision that almost defied humanity, hitting his intended targets and you watched the Saxon soldiers drop like stones with his blades in their eyes.

You heard a shout, your name.

“Æthelwulf!” You couldn’t see him no matter how frantically you looked. Strong hands wrapped around your wrist and Ivar’s guards dragged you into the parapet, up the stone steps and breaking out into the daylight. The battle lay before you, Knights and soldiers fighting side by side against the Vikings but you could already see the Northmen had the advantage. Ivar watched with cold calculating eyes and a sneer splitting his lips, the knife never stopped swirling around his finger. Your breath caught when a man rode into the courtyard, you recognised him instantly, his voice rose above the clammer of battle as he directed the Saxons, but from your vantage point you saw the futility of his direction.

“Spears!” Bellowed Ivar and almost half the Saxons dropped with wooden shafts buried through their bodies. You watched with horror as Heahmund used his horse as a weapon, trampling over a woman that had tried to face him until archers took out the beast so it threw the Bishop onto the ground.

Ivar was watching with strong interest and suddenly he shouted for the fighting to cease much to your surprise. Heahmund grabbed his sword, swinging the mighty blade like it wasn’t made of steel, his eyes wide with fear as he glanced up at you both. Recognition dawned in his eyes when he saw you, encased in Viking armour and standing next to Ivar the Boneless himself, anything but a prisoner.

“Give him my horse.” Ivar yelled down, his knife emphasising his words as he pointed. “Give him my horse.” He repeated, Heahmund fell to his knees, leaning heavily on his sword and you saw him begin to pray. Won't do you any good, you wanted to tell him. “He is too great a warrior to fight on foot!” The sound of hooves made the crowd part and Ivar’s horse was ridden in. Your chest felt tight as you watched the blood drenched Bishop lift his sword to his lips, but you knew Ivar’s intention wasn’t to kill him. If it was, he'd have done it already. Oh no, Ivar was intrigued by him and when Ivar was intrigued you were in luck.

Heahmund laughed as he looked round at the heathens watching him with death in their eyes, lifting his sword he performed a mock bow of thanks to Ivar who returned the gesture with a smug air. The grin was wiped from Ivar’s expression as Heahmund mounted the horse and everyone looked up to Ivar and you. He sliced his knife through the air, baring his teeth when he did and your stomach dropped as the cacophony of noise rose once more.

Very quickly not a Saxon was left breathing save the bishop and he was dragged from the horse to be held at the point of his own sword. Ivar moved and automatically you followed, noticing the way he huffed in pain today. The slowness of his steps and the way he relied on his cane. It would have been so easy for you to trip him, to watch him fall down the steps but the body heat of Ivar’s guard at your back told you it was an action you wouldn’t survive.

You followed Ivar as if tied on a string, obedient little Princess and her heathen Prince. You watched Heahmund’s face as Ivar took the hilt of his sword, lifting it and admiring the blood drenched blade. He tapped it against the bishop's armour and Heahmund shouted loudly, making you flinch. Hatred and rage filled his voice, his eyes never leaving Ivar’s face as the Viking sneered with amusement.

“Christian,” spat Ivar, baring his teeth as a couple of the Vikings laughed and he motioned for the bishop to be dragged away. The sound of your name had the blood thrumming right to your finger tips, a tingle of adrenaline when his eyes met yours desperately seeking out an ally.

“He calls to you,” stated Ivar, the sword hanging loosely from his grip. You had nothing to say, even if you wanted to, no words could escape the tightness of your throat. “He knows you.” Swallowing you struggled to make yourself relax.

“I am a Princess of Northumbria. Everyone knows me,” you finally managed to breathe out. The sounds of skirmishes reached your ears as the Saxons were driven yet again from the streets of York and you followed behind Ivar as he surveyed the success of his great army. Passing under an arch you paused, you could see his face staring sightlessly up at the sky, his eyes wide in perpetual horror. Mannel. Your cousin. The one who taught you how to fight and survive not only the courts but war. Although some days they felt the same.

“What is it?” You stirred from your reverie, ignoring the sadness that rose up in your chest threatening to consume you there and then. Ivar came to a stop beside you, his cane shoving the body of a Viking to the side revealing more of Mannel’s mangled body. You allowed yourself a silent gasp, a slight parting of your lips but nothing else betrayed how you were feeling. “He your kin?” Ivar asked, his cane now pushing Mannel’s face to the side and you quickly tore your gaze away.

“No. I thought I recognised him but I do not.”

“Maybe you are looking for the body of a lover, hmm?” He sneered. You managed to drag your brow down and shoot him a hot look of distaste. You didn’t even dignify him with an answer as he continued to grin wolfishly at you. Stepping over more bodies you moved away, trying not to think what you were stepping in as each footfall squelched hideously. You heard Ivar grunt and the splintering of bone behind you but you daren’t look back, knowing you’d see Ivar’s spiked cane in your beloved cousin's face. You felt rage that Judith had pulled him into this but you also knew Mannel was not one to turn away from a fight.

—

Moonlight streamed through your window, bodies still littered the streets and the smell of it all made you want to gag so you let the memories claim you, to take you away for just a moment.

“Your Grace.” You kneeled before him, the cushion soft under your knees and the hood hid your face.

“Princess.” His voice sent a shiver through your body and instantly you tried to banish these thoughts from your mind. “Will you take mass from my hands?”

“Yes,” you almost gasped. Gazing up as he recited the passage in Latin, a direct blessing from god and all you could think about was the blessing his body could give yours. You opened your mouth obediently to take the bread, noticing the lingering way he pressed the bread onto your waiting tongue. His fingers, just for the briefest moment brushing your lips. Next he offered the wine. His intense eyes locked with yours as you drank, feeling exposed and vulnerable in your kneeling position. He helped you up, his hands gripping yours tightly like he didn’t want to let you go. You don’t even remember leaving the chapel and ending up in his chambers. His body pushing deeply into yours like no man had ever before. He made you feel things you didn’t know you could, his body lithe and strong against your own as he showed you that there was pleasure in this world….god given pleasure.

—

The next morning you made your way to the cathedral that Ivar had commandeered as his personal meeting place. Food littered the tables and you assumed he sent out hunters last night.

“There she is,” said Hvitserk softly. He reclined back in his seat, cocking his leg against the table looking every bit the prince that he was. “Ivar said you were a good girl. He said you can ask whatever you want and I have to grant it. Within reason.” He added quickly. Whatever I want. Heahmund.

“I wish to talk to Bishop Heahmund.” You noticed Vikings taking an interest as your voice rang out loudly, their heads swivelling round, looking over your armour. Your hair had been braided by a thrall this morning and you knew you looked every inch the Viking shieldmaiden. Minus a weapon, save the seax.

“I do not know…” started Hvitserk but he was interrupted.

“It’s fine Hvitserk.” Ivar limped into view. He looked tired and you wondered if he got any sleep at all last night. “His Grace has been asking after our dröttning, she can go see him.” So Ivar had spoken to him, that’s why he looked so tired. Your hands twisted and you waited expectantly for someone to take you but no one moved. Ivar lowered himself into a chair, his face contorting in pain with a soft grunt. When he looked up his eyes blazed with fury that both you and Hvitserk were watching him. “What are you waiting for?” He snarled. Hvitserk jumped up like he’d been burnt by his chair, snatching his cup and downing whatever was in there before beckoning you to follow.

You were led down, the stone steps slippery with grime, water dripped somewhere echoing through the darkness only to be accompanied by the rattling of chains. You tried not to wrinkle your nose in distaste and be one of those members of royalty but it really was filthy down here. Hvitserk pushed you past the guard stationed by the heavy wooden door and you bit back a curse not befitting your station. Truthfully you didn’t want to anger him but he seemed oblivious to the new way you looked at him now.

“He’s in there.” The door creaked ominously on its large hinges and you purposely shut it behind you, yet neither of the Northmen protested. A shard of light angled in from above, it highlighted the metal pole he was chained to. His shadow was stretched, reaching your feet where you had stopped. He looked up with those blue/green eyes that reminded you of a stormy day and watched you wearily as you approached him. A thick chain was attached to a collar around his neck and chains bound his hands and ankles so he had no choice but to kneel. Such was the irony of Ivar.

“Your Grace,” your voice was soft and everything this place wasn’t. His lips parted at the sound like a spell had been broken over him and he was just cresting awake from the effects.

“Princess,” even here and now his voice made you shiver. “How?” You heard the unspoken questions even if he didn’t utter the words. How were you alive? How were you not bound? How had you survived Ivar the Boneless?

“I was captured at the same time as my father,” you started. “He tried to bargain for his own life.” But not mine. “God spared neither of us that day.” You moved to the side, skirting round the light that bathed the bishop.

“I prayed for you.” You had to refrain from scoffing, knowing he expected you to thank him for such a gesture.

“And for yourself in the meantime?” You managed to bite at him. “Because if praying is what this—,” you gestured around you both. “—gets us then I don’t want it.” Walking behind him you saw him bow his head in exhaustion or from the weight of your words you had no idea.

“The Lord will provide…” with a hiss of rage you were before him, yanking his head up by his chin to glare into those eyes you knew so well.

“Don’t feed me that nonsense.” Pity filled his gaze as anger threaded through you. “God abandoned me. My spirit broke. I called and I called but I was not saved.” You released him with a shove, the chains tinkling from the movement.

“He has a plan for us. A path that we must walk to understand his intent.”

“No,” you said firmly, turning away from him. “And don’t tell me I have lost my way because my path has never been clearer. Maybe…” your eyes trailed over the stone pillar trying to say the words that burned on your soul. “Maybe my lack of faith is my punishment.”

“It is a test,” he told you. Closing your eyes you imagined you both back at his cathedral, golden sunlight streaming through the large windows and warming you both.

“Then it is one I have already failed,” it weighed on you. The emptiness from the hole that your faith and belief had left, the dark yawning chasm within you was the heaviest thing you’d ever carried.

“Let me help you,” he said softly and now you did laugh, huffing from you to echo in the stone chamber.

“Are you really in a position to help me, Your Grace?”

“We came here for you.” Frustration began to edge his tone and the corner of your lips turned up, the warrior bishop was still in there after all.

“Not entirely. Æthelwulf came to extract revenge for King Ecbert, maybe Ælle,” you shrugged. “I am but the youngest Princess I shall not be missed. I have no doubt once Ivar is done with me I will cease to exist.” He watched you pace before him assessing your behaviour, your resignation and defeat clearly trying to find out a way to help you both. “Who enlisted Mannel?” You asked suddenly.

“Did he…?”

“He did not leave the walls of this city.” Heahmund closed his eyes, the whisper of a prayer on his lips and you found yourself sneering. “Pretty words won’t help him now.”

“It is my faith, I believe even if you do not anymore!” He strained against the iron, his neck cording from the force of his yell. Crouching down to his level you laced your hands together, leaning your elbows on your knees. Cocking your head you observed him realising that he had no sway over you, not anymore.

“I was young when we met, Heahmund. You words used to invoke passion and fire inside me, now all I am filled with is darkness and ash.” His eyes widened. “I have changed since the Northmen took me, they are showing me a new path. One I am willing to walk.”

“No! You cannot let them blind you with their lies. Their gods are not true! Pagans and heathens, liars and murders!” He spat as you stood, taking time to adjust your tunic letting him get a good look at the armour you were encased in. Turning to your shoulder you moved the chainmail, it was a pointless motion but it told him of your disdain, your dismissal of his useless words. “You belong here, more than you know. You are Anglo-Saxon royalty, born and raised to rule.”

“Maybe I was born to rule elsewhere.” Looking back you saw the rage etched on his features. “You and I both know I would never see the throne in Northumbria. It’s why you chose me that day. The youngest, the most naive, the most…pliant.” He had the minor decency to look ashamed as memories of your twisted forms came to his mind. “I let you, but you stole something from me that day and maybe you're the reason I’m now in this damnation.” A shuffle behind the door made you listen for a moment and you had not a single doubt that Ivar was listening. “I forsake him.” Heahmund looked physically pained at your loud declaration. “You should do the same because he has clearly forsaken you.” You went to leave but he called your name.

“I cut myself to ribbons that day. I bled for what I did to you.” Your feet carried on moving.

“What a lot of good it did you.” Wrenching the door open with a screech of iron you saw Ivar, his blue eyes blazing even in the darkness. Not even waiting for him to say anything you left, Hvitserk close behind as you darted back up the stone steps and bursting into the grey sunlight once more.

Your breath felt like it was trapped still in the cell with Heahmund and you swayed alarmingly. Hvitserk quickly put his arms around you to steady you, murmuring quietly in Norse as you struggled to get yourself under control. Finally you managed to shrug him off, nausea twisting your stomach and he lifted his hands off you. Leaning heavily against the wall you grounded yourself to the roughness under your fingertips, the murky sunshine holding barely any warmth today only the promise of rain. Hvitserk stood near you, resting his hand easily against the pommel of his sword as he looked at the people passing by with a watchful eye. Because you were Ivar’s. You knew you were breaking free from the confines of being his prisoner and becoming something…else. The words replayed in your mind; maybe I was born to rule elsewhere… Maybe you were. It intrigued you, this new found desire for power. Possibly shadowing Ivar for this long had given you a glimpse of something you missed from your previous life. Because you couldn’t go back, not to the confines of court and stiffness of Anglo-Saxon society. You’d always rebelled against it, hating every moment, every stitch of clothing, every word that was said. No, you didn’t want to go back.

—

You stood behind Ivar as he lounged on the bench, Hvitserk next to him drinking from a goblet, the tangy sweetness of communion wine made your nose wrinkle. White Hair, the tallest of Ivar’s men approached and Ivar gestured for him to speak.

“The Saxon army or what remains of it,” his eyes slid briefly to you but you kept your expression neutral. “Has abandoned their camp and left.” Left. Æthelwolf was gone, Alfred and Æthelred…Judith. Gone. You weren’t surprised, the defeat they suffered was catastrophic and if they assumed Heahmund was dead…

White Hair cast one more weary look at you as Ivar waved him away. Hvitserk smirked, the goblet hanging from his fingers as he swayed it slightly down the side of his chair.

“If you want to, we can pursue them and destroy them,” your eyes fell out of focus at Ivar’s words. The flames blended together the longer you stared only to snap up and fix on Hvitserk when he spoke.

“I think we have more important things to do,” he said softly. He looked up at you briefly before continuing with Ivar. “We must look to Kattegat. What if Ubbe kills Lagertha or persuades her to crown him king? The loss of our homebase would be a devastating blow.” You’d forgotten about Ubbe, it felt like a lifetime ago you were standing on that embankment watching him leave. Seeing Hvitserk make his choice between brothers, the relief in your chest when he jumped ship knowing that he wouldn't leave you alone with Ivar.

The bench creaked as Ivar faced his brother full on, his expression intense as he listened and you watched the exchange curiously.

“We need to sort things out,” Hvitserk continued. “We must kill Ubbe and Lagertha. And you must be crowned King of Kattegat, before Björn returns.” King. If Ivar was crowned King it would be a step closer to what you wanted. Hvitserk sat back in his chair drinking deeply as he waited for his suggestion to take hold. Ivar shook his head a gleeful smile stretching across his face and you knew already he agreed.

“You are making more and more sense my brother! Good man.” Hvitserk preened smugly at his brother's praise and you felt like rolling your eyes and telling them to pay each other on the back for their ingenious idea. “I remember also that King Harald had an ambition of invading Kattegat.” Your blood ran icy at the mention of his name. You were pleased to see the back of him after Wessex hoping you’d never have to see those facial tattoos or that braid ever again. “In the short term, we should make an alliance and work with him.” You shifted beside Ivar’s bench once again drawing Hvitserk’s attention to you. You didn’t know if anyone else knew what had happened that day, or if anyone else saw the hungry look that clouded Harald’s eyes whenever he set his sights on you. Your thoughts scattered as Ivar carried on speaking. “This time we will truly quit York, though leaving a big enough garrison to keep it safe until our return. Hmm?” You watched the way he fiddled with his blade, knowing the devastation he could cause with such a small weapon.

“And what of our prisoner…prisoners?” Hvitserk corrected himself, casually putting his feet up and running his hazel gaze over you at the same time. You almost forgot what he did in the church when they entered York for the first time. Almost. “This bishop and our princess?”

“Well,” Ivar looked up at you, his crystal blue eyes locking with yours and a sense of dread infiltrated your chest at his light tone. “What do you propose?”

“He seems like an important man, we could offer him back to the Saxons for a great ransom.”

“Or we could crucify him. That would be fun,” Ivar sniggered darkly and you clasped your hands together trying to ignore how sweaty your palms were. “But what of our dröttning?”

“Oh,” Hvitserk leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto just its back legs as he looked you over. “She’s too pretty to be crucified. Especially in our armour.”

“What would you like to do?” Ivar tilted his head to the side and you knew you had to play the game. Smiling slightly you leaned on the back of the bench hopefully exuding confidence you didn’t feel.

“I would like to stay with you. I want to see Kattegat with my own eyes.” Bravely you brushed some imaginary dirt off Ivar’s shoulder, just an excuse to touch him. “I want to see where you grew up and learn more about you, Hlaford Ivar.”

“Huh…” he ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth studying your face for a just moment before he swung himself round, swiping an apple he stood up. “Come dröttning mínn.” Hvitserk’s eyebrows would have disappeared if they rose any higher, hiding his expression in his golden goblet. You wanted to ask him what it meant but you didn’t have time.

Dutifully you followed him, aware of the distrustful eyes that tracked your every movement. Down and down you went, the repetitive thud of Ivar’s cane on the stone was soon accompanied by the dripping water. Why had he brought you down here? So you could witness him kill Heahmund? See if you’d intervene? You eye caught the redness in his hand and you wondered if he was going to feed the bishop. More likely eat it himself in front of the bishop.

You were let in, the door closing behind you and Ivar made a show of settling down to the side of Heahmund. The crunch of his teeth breaking the skin of the fruit echoed loudly and you grimaced in the shadows.

“Blessed is he who walked not in the counsel of the ungodly…” Now you did roll your eyes. Pacing away from the bishop as he droned on, uttering words that he thought might save him, preserve him maybe? Flaunt his Christian faith in the face of an unbeliever. Did he think Ivar would prostrate himself onto the muddy floor and beg to worship the god who forsakes his followers? You sniggered at the thought not aware of how it carried clearly against the stone.

Ivar let the bishop spout his nonsense, munching his apple loudly as he listened with an amused expression on his face. He laughed a little which you appreciated, gently trailing your hand across the loose ends of his hair as you touched the armour near the back of his neck. He looked up and smiled, chewing on the last of the apple before he dumped the core in front of the bishop. You were aware of Heahmund watching you but refused to even acknowledge him, only having eyes for Ivar as he dusted his hands off.

“You call me a heathen, but to me I am godly. I live by the gods.”

“There is only one god!” Snapped Heahmund and you couldn’t stop the dry laugh that left you.

“Then where is he?” You couldn’t help yourself, forcing the question out between gritted teeth.

“I have seen other gods. I have seen Odin, the Allfather with my own eyes.” Ivar’s words made you sigh and again you walked past him not able to resist touching him. A man who had seen a god. Ivar watched you from the corner of his eye as you stepped past him before looking knowingly at Heahmund, tilting his head.

“They are the devil's work.” Ivar laughed and you with him. “He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us and lead us into evil.” Heahmund looked for you in desperation. “You know this!” He hissed but all you did was crouch next to Ivar knowing the bishop couldn’t look at you without seeing the man he called a heathen.

“What is evil? Huh?” Asked Ivar his voice full of simple naivety, a tone you had come to recognise that he used when toying with someone. Heahmund looked at the ground and for a moment you didn’t think he was going to reply.

“Answer him,” you pressed. You needed him to say it.

“The slaughter of the innocent.” You bristled and instantly Ivar had a comeback already falling from his mouth.

“You slaughter when it suits you.”

“He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent!” Your eyes bored into Heahmund’s as his words hung heavily between you all.

“Do you hear that dröttning? You are not innocent,” Ivar murmured to you. His face was inches from yours, his breath still smelling of the apple he’d just eaten. Heahmund held your gaze almost silently pleading with you.

“I can show you the ways of god, it could reawaken that side of you,” he whispered your name but you didn’t want to hear it. “I can bring you to salvation. And to eternal life.” You stood, resting a hand on Ivar’s shoulder, surprise making your breath hitch when he put his hand over yours. You felt the laughter course through him, his shoulders shaking until the chuckle erupted from him and he laughed in the bishop's face.

“Do you know who I am?” His fingers tightened around yours when Heahmund looked away.

“Of course. You are Ivar, son of Ragnar Lothbrok and many there are, who fear you.” His grip didn’t let you go, almost pulling you closer as he rested back against your legs.

“But not you?” He asked Heahmund who replied almost instantly.

“No.”

“You should.” Your words echoed around you all, heavy and damning. Heahmund slowly cast his gaze over you, all pleading helplessness gone from his expression.

“I fear no man. No matter how wicked,” he stated. You felt the inhale from Ivar as he breathed in ready to retaliate.

“People tell stories about other people. People they don’t know. Have never met. And yet, they still curse them and tell lies about them. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes. People tell lies about our saviour.”

“The saviour that saves no one?” You asked with a shrug enjoying the pain that contorted your once lover's face.

“He saved you from that fire,” the bishop threw at you.

“No! Mannel saved me from that fire!!” You snarled wanting to move forward but the weight of Ivar stopped you, his fingers now almost holding you even tighter. “Mannel my beloved cousin! Mannel who never made it out of this city! Who lies dead in the mud!” You clamped your teeth together, suddenly realising what you just said as the pain radiated up your arm.

“Ah lies,” said Ivar softly. “They get everywhere and maybe people tell lies about me.” You had lied to Ivar and now he knew it, now he had reason to question your motives and ask where your loyalty really lay.

“I wouldn’t know,” Heahmund said steadily. Carefully you tried to extract your hand but Ivar would not release you.

“I will give you the chance to find out. You are coming on a journey with us. That would be fun, wouldn’t it, dröttning?” The way how he wrapped his accent around the name he had given you spoke of danger and you tried to stop the tremor from encompassing your entire body. “Come, we have much to discuss.” Although he was grinning, Ivar's eyes held no mirth and your heart skipped a few beats, trepidation making sweat run under the collar of your armour. As soon as he released your hand you snatched it to your chest following him out of the chamber.

“I am already on a journey!” Called Heahmund.

“Aren’t we all.” Ivar sang back. Your gaze lingered on Heahmund and he read the fear in your eyes, his chains jangling in a futile effort to reach you. No help was coming, only you could save yourself.

Everything was too bright as you both surfaced. Maybe you could run for it? A quick glance told you that it wasn't possible there were eyes on every single movement you made. Each breath was short and ragged, like your chest couldn’t expand. He led you back to the cathedral, his hand clutching you and hauling you with brute strength through the door. The momentum carried you through, knocking into chairs and finally a table, spilling the contents as it toppled. The Vikings all rose as one ready to watch the exchange between Ivar and his Saxon prisoner.

“Everybody OUT!” Ivar bellowed. “OUT!” You arched your back, trying not to whine at the pain that lanced down your spine as he advanced slowly. Fury rippled across his face, his tongue pressing on his lower lip and you knew he was going to kill you.

“You lied to me,” his voice slightly raspy from his bellow. “You told me he was no one to you.”

“He was my cousin. I did not think it was of importance!” You wanted to crawl away, hide in a corner or run and never look back except you were trapped as he bore down on you. His hand grabbed the front of your armour, hooking into the armhole so he could bring you up to his face. “I’m sorry!”

“What else have you lied to me about huh?”

“N-nothing!” You stuttered.

“You silver tongued snake!” He flung you to the side with what seemed like inhuman strength, another table falling as you barrelling into it. Pain blossomed against your side and you knew already you had at least one broken rib. Your breath wheezed and you tried to scramble away from him, closing your eyes and hoping the blow came swiftly.

“Ivar! What are you doing?” Hvitserk. You’d never been so happy to hear his voice as he crouched down beside you.

“She lied to us brother. She is a LIAR!” Ivar pointed at you with his knife and fear told you to draw yours but instinct told you no.

“Put it down, she is no threat to us.” Ivar stamped his cane against the floor but he made no move to stop Hvitserk picking you up from the debris.

“If you believe that then you deal with her.” His rage filled glare ran over you and he sniffed dismissively. “She’s your responsibility until we get to Vestfold. If she survives the journey.” He turned sharply and made his way back out.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Here,” you breathed. You didn’t have it in you to even voice a protest when he stripped your armour back to look at your side.

“Come on. Let’s get you looked at. Lean on me, I’ve got you.” He spoke softly and it calmed you, leaning into him as he led you out to see a healer. You tried not to think about the weeks you were about to spend on a ship, a confined space with Ivar, Hvitserk and Heahmund.

—

In the weeks it took you to sail from England to Vestfold you were confined to a longboat with the Ragnarssons and Heahmund. You could go days without talking, the pain in your ribs from Ivar’s temper a constant reminder that you lied to him. Hvitserk tended to you, sitting by you and being a shield against any men who wanted to approach. Having a woman prisoner on board that they couldn’t touch was a novelty. You felt eyes on you all the time, watching, waiting and biding their time.

It was night time, the moonlight filtered through the clouds, reflecting off the calm sea. The sound of the water lapping at the hull sung a tranquil song that had your head bobbing with drowsiness in your little corner. Hvitserk was asleep a few feet away and Ivar was at the other end of the boat near where Heahmund was tied up. You didn’t sleep during the night, choosing to stay awake until Hvitserk had awoken but you were just so exhausted, the furs warm and inviting you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep.

Something woke you, a pressure on your ankle and you frowned. Opening your eyes you expected to see daylight and Vikings moving about the boat but instead it was as black as when you closed your eyes. You went to snuggle down again when movement over your body made you stiffen, reacting blindly you went to cry out but the hand was already sealing off your screams. You tried to thrash, to reach Hvitserk but he was too far away and already the Viking had pinned you down in the darkness. His breath was hot and reeking over your face, your eyes rolled in pure fear but no matter what you did you couldn’t dislodge him.

Memories of being tied to the pole back in Repton with Harald’s filthy hands all over your body and the feeling of helplessness rolled over you once more. Stupid, so stupid falling asleep! You didn’t stop fighting, still looking for a way to free yourself but he just snickered lightly at your futile attempts. Weeks from lack of exercise and training was showing.

“So feisty,” he breathed. “I’m going to enjoy taking you.” No! NO! Your efforts doubled but still he managed to lift up your tunic to pull down your leather breeches. Sheer terror seized your brain as his body covered yours, the bare skin of his legs brushing against you had sobs rising in your chest. Closing your eyes tightly you screamed one last time.

The pressure was lifted off your body and you saw the glint of a sword in the moonlight. The Viking that had been about to rape you had his hands up, his head pulled back by Hvitserk was almost snarling his face as he yanked on his hair.

“What do you think you are doing?” Hvitserk asked him in a dangerously low tone.

“I wanted her. She wanted me.” It took every ounce of control not to fire yourself at him and claw his eyes out at his blatant lie.

“Oh no, I don’t think that was the case at all.” A voice said as Ivar crawled his way down to your end of the boat. The others were waking up now, their attention being drawn to what was happening.

“I will slit your throat,” threatened Hvitserk, tightening his hold and bringing the sword up higher.

“Stay your hand brother.” The whole boat was awake now, a collective breath held in everyone’s chests as they waited for Ivar to swing his legs round. He looked gleefully between you and Hvitserk, settling his hands on his legs before he spoke. “Do you want Arne, dröttning?” Arne. Now you knew his name. The only response you could give was to spit fiercely in the Vikings direction and Ivar tutted loudly. “I think, Arne, that she doesn’t want you.” Ivar pulled one of his blades free and began to clean a nail with it as though he was bored of the interaction already.

“Ivar?” You could see Hvitserk’s fingers flex on the hilt of his sword as though he was holding himself back from killing the man in his grip. Ivar sighed loudly, rolling his shoulders and his jaw worked furiously. You jumped slightly when he stretched towards you, holding out his knife. Your heart thumped and the question you wanted to ask was right on the top of your tongue. “Take it,” he encouraged. “Do what you want to him.” You snatched the knife, your own seax had been taken as soon as you were on board with Ivar claiming he didn’t want you stabbing people in their sleep. Thoughts raced through your mind, some didn’t stick but your creativity ran wild as your gaze locked with Ivar’s.

“Anything I want?” You asked, watching the wicked grin that spread over his face. It was a test, Ivar wanted to see what you would do for revenge and you weren’t going to disappoint. You stood so everyone on the boat could see you holding the knife. Stepping towards the man who had you weeping for your life just moments ago you felt the shift in power. Hvitserk kept his eyes trained on Arne, his fingers still entwined roughly in his braids, blood seeped from a slight cut in his neck and you grinned. You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look directly into your eyes, gritting your teeth you slashed the blade along both cheeks in quick succession. The wet cut of his flesh carried over the still waters and you heard Arne’s sharp inhale but he didn’t cry out. Dipping your shaking fingers into his blood you did what you had seen many do before battle and trailed your wet fingers down your face, painting yourself with his blood. Arne’s eyes widened in fear and you heard Ivar snigger.

“Can I kill him now?” Snarled Hvitserk but Ivar held up a hand.

“No. She is not done yet.” No you weren’t. You dropped into a crouch, running the knife down his chest feeling immense satisfaction when his chest heaved nervously. You tapped his navel, your eyes continuing down to where his leather ties were still undone exposing his most vulnerable parts. You looked over your shoulder at Ivar as he watched you intently, a slight tilt of his head and flash of his teeth in a smirk told you not to stop.

Your hand lashed out, grabbing Arne tightly and making him lurch back into Hvitserk’s legs who didn’t give any ground at all.

“No! Please…I won’t go near her again!”

“Maybe,” started Ivar in his playful tone. “You should not have gone near her in the first place.” Placing the knife against your knuckles right under his balls you heard him whimper. His eyes closed tightly and his body trembled as you let him feel the coolness of the blade before contracting your muscles and slicing upwards in one swift stroke. Blood spattered over your face, coating your hands instantly but it was his scream that shattered your mind. He tapered off into a sobbing mess when Hvitserk finally released him, dumping him on the bottom of the boat. You heard a rich laugh behind you, it rose from Ivar loudly, carrying across to the other boats as you all floated over the calm sea. He clapped his hands together and you stood up, stepping backwards out of the blood pool to seeped over the wood and tossing what you were holding over the side. “Good girl,” his blue eyes watched you carefully, the blade still gripped tightly in your hand. “Throw him overboard Hvitserk to join his balls, he’s staining the wood. Come dröttning.” You watched as Hvitserk grabbed the bleeding man and without a second thought and tossed him with a splash into the sea. You could hear him, pleading weakly to be let back on board so you shut him out. Stepping carefully as you followed Ivar to the front of the boat aware of how the others refused to meet your gaze. How they shrank away from your presence when you passed them, blood still dripping from your hands.

You knew why he did it, not only did it assert Ivar’s command that you must not be touched but it gave you some semblance of power in the eyes of his army. You weren’t to be messed with and Ivar wanted them to know that, even if you deferred to him. You cowed to no one else. Hvitserk was right behind you, forever your guard and shadow but you didn't think you’d need him anymore.

—

Sunlight streamed down on you as you sat at the front of the boat, the breeze wafted past you and the land on the horizon got closer and closer. You hadn’t washed Arne’s blood off your face or hands; you wanted the Northmen to look at you and remember what had happened, what you were capable of. You wanted King Harald to ask what happened. Hvitserk stood to the side and you felt his gaze on you every now and again but you ignored him just wanting to get off this boat and onto solid ground. Horns sounded announcing your arrival and you waited for the nerves but they didn’t come. The last time Harald saw you were trussed up to a pole, now you were strides away from that person, that prisoner that he remembered and you wanted to look him in the eye. Glancing back you saw Heahmund, his head dipping onto his chest, his lips cracked and dry from the lack of water. Without a word you made a move towards him not caring how it looked as you scooped up some of the last remaining fresh water. The boats were about to dock anyway and everything would be replenished.

“Heahmund,” you whispered. “Water.”

—

You followed Ivar’s dragging footsteps, he was suffering from sitting on the boat for weeks on end and suddenly wearing his heavy iron supports again was a weight he shouldn’t be struggling through. But he did, so he didn’t appear weak like so many thought he was. You saw his pain, you saw him. It flowed from his gaze even as he sneered with fake joy at the man sitting on the throne to your left, the man with a crown on his head who watched with knowing eyes as you approached. On the other throne sat a woman, at first glance she looked like she belonged. Regal and watchful but when you looked closer she was a shell. Her blue eyes were stunning, her dark hair impeccably set, the dress she wore was arranged perfectly but she was there in person and not in spirit.

“Ivar and Hvitserk Ragnarsson. Why did you not return to Kattegat?” His voice made you want to shiver but you managed to banish the feeling, refusing to show weakness yourself.

“You don’t need to be a seer to know that Ubbe and I fell out.” His voice was light, breathless from the strain of walking and you subconsciously moved closer to him drawing the gaze of King Harald as you did. “We disagreed about many things. But in the end Hvitserk agreed with me and Ubbe sailed alone to Kattegat and that is why we are here.”

“Good choice,” Harald looked you up and down with nothing short of contempt marking his features. “A good choice.” You saw Ivar’s attention flick to the woman, his look of astonishment quickly covered with a smug look. “Surely you both remember Astrid. She’s my queen now.” She looked coolly at the brothers and you disguised your shock at them knowing each other, this was their life you had been dragged into. It was all new to you. Queen Astrid gave a little smile when Harald said her name but it didn’t reach her eyes. Ivar smiled, you could see the tension in his neck and you daren’t turn around to gauge Hvitserk’s reaction.

“I am happy for both of you,” his tone left much to be desired and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was actually happy or not for this union.

“Oh thank you. Ivar.” The way she pushed his name out of her had you bristling just behind Ivar’s shoulder. His fingers curled on his cane, the creak of his leather loud in the hall as he kept hold of Astrid’s glare.

“So,” it took all of your willpower to drag your attention off the Queen and back to the King, your gaze hot with hatred for them both. “Do I understand that you and your warriors will support me when I attack Kattegat?” Ivar let out a huff of amusement at the change of pace, pointing at Harald he answered.

“Straight to it, I like it. Yes we will.” You nearly jumped when Hvitserk spoke behind you, perched on the table no doubt next to a plate of food.

“But only if Ivar is made King.” Ivar turned to glare at his brother and you looked over as well, not sure where Hvitserk suddenly got this bout of confidence from as he stared right back at his youngest brother.

“You know that I have my own plans for that kingdom.” You kept your gaze on Hvitserk and he grinned lazily with a small shrug and you turned your attention back to Ivar who was trying to placate Harald.

“Of course, of course. And that is why we are here. What—,” he paused to look round at Hvitserk again, his expression unreadable. “I think my dear brother is trying to say is that, in the long term, what is to stop you from ruling Kattegat when I am dead and gone, hmm?” Your heart dropped at those flippant words. You knew why he was saying it, to draw Harald in with the promise of having the land he so desperately wanted but still it didn’t make it any easier and you… “How long can that be? I’m not a healthy person. I’m a cripple.” You controlled your breathing through your nose hoping you weren’t flaring your nostrils too much. Harald hadn’t looked at you in a while and you wanted to get through this meeting unnoticed. The tension was fraught and if you had a knife you could have cut the air with it.

“But your brother Hvitserk…”

“All that matters,” Ivar said loudly, cutting across Harald. “To the both of us, is to reclaim the kingdom that was torn from us by that murderous bitch Lagertha.” Ivar kept his tone light but at the mention of this, Lagertha you saw Astrid come alive. Her expression barely changed but observing people in court since you were very young meant you saw things other people possibly didn’t. She gave a tiny almost discernible shake of her head at his words and you cocked your head as her gaze slid to you. “We want to be in an alliance with you. To make that happen. And soon.” You could feel Ivar had Harald’s interest, his persuasive tone, the lightness of his manner as Ivar edged the king right to where he wanted him. And still you held Astrid’s gaze over your prince's shoulder until your cockiness evaporated at Harald’s next words.

“I hear you had an extra prisoner as well as your princess.”

“Ah,” Ivar exclaimed with a smile, putting his arm behind you and bringing you two paces forward. “You remember my dröttning?” From his sneer of course he remembered you, shame bruising wasn’t permanent.

“I can’t believe she’s still alive,” he told Ivar with a rough chuckle.

“Oh, we had our…moments,” he murmured almost intimately as he looked at you. “But she performed admirably when she castrated one of my men for going near her.” Silence. Except for Hvitserk shifting slightly on the wooden table you could have heard a needle drop. Harald cleared his throat, his eyes raking over you as he noticed the blood that stained you. Settling far back into the throne and you swore he paled slightly but the intent in his eyes didn’t change, you could feel his throbbing dislike for you from where you stood.

“What are you going to do with her or are you just going to let her loose on your men like a guard dog?” Ivar ran his tongue over his teeth beside you, bowing his head as he smirked.

“I would choose your words carefully, maybe she is exactly that. My guard dog, with a score to settle.” The threat hung unspoken between them but it told Harald that Ivar knew of his handsy indiscretion back at Repton.

“What of your other prisoner?” Ivar’s hand dropped and you carefully stepped back, moving over slightly to be nearer Hvitserk who stood up from the table and rested a foot on the bench, his hand never straying far from the pommel of his sword. “I have heard of this man,” Harald continued. “Where is he?” Jutting your chin out you tried not to look concerned knowing the state that Heahmund was in, you were worried for him.

“Bring the Christian,” demanded Ivar loudly and turned to face the doors. You didn’t, instead you observed the King and Queen as they craned their necks to see this latest acquisition of Ivar’s like he was a pack animal. The clink of his chains made your heart flutter but you didn’t show outwardly the effect it had on you. Heahmund however was nearly nowhere as composed as you were, his eyes were wide, his muscles tense and you could see he was surreptitiously fighting the men that brought him in by leaning back into their hold.

“On his knees,” sang Ivar. Nothing could stop the wince furrowing your brow as Heahmund was slammed onto the wooden floor, his hands going out to catch him with more rattles from his chains. “Bishop Heahmund,” Ivar introduced him as though he was providing a prize stallion to King Harald. The bishop straightened, yanking on his tunic in disgust as he levelled his gaze at Harald. Astrid lost interest quickly but the King sized him up before leaning back in his chair and gesturing lazily.

“What’s the point of him? Why don’t you just kill him?” You weren’t even aware you moved until Hvitserk put out a hand that pressed through your armour against your stomach. No other movement was made and thankfully no one seemed to notice. Your heart thudded in your veins but you managed to rein yourself in as Hvitserk slid his hand down your armour and let it drop away to hang loosely at his side.

“Because he is a great warrior. I’ve seen how he fights with my own eyes and I…admire great warriors.” Your eyes flickered up to meet his striking blue ones as he shuffled around Heahmund and you knew he was talking about you as well.

“He will fight for us?” Harald asked curiously.

“Maybe,” teased Ivar. “If he doesn’t want to get crucified!” As their mingled laughter rose you felt cold dread trickle down your spine. Memories of your father being strung up in a cross shape threatened to haunt you and again you shuffled closer to Hvitserk letting your arm just brush alongside his for a moment. You almost jumped out of your skin when Heahmund spoke. Ivar grabbed his hair in a tight fist, yanking his head back so he stopped the flow of words.

“No, let him speak,” encouraged Harald.

—

“I will see that some space is made for you. Heahmund and your…princess can go in the hut.” Panic blazed through your body and automatically you looked helplessly at Hvitserk. If you were away from them even for a moment anything could happen and you were in Harald’s territory.

“Wait…” Hvitserk started but it was Ivar’s voice that settled everything.

“She stays with me.” Even Hvitserk frowned at his brother but Harald smiled broadly.

“Are you sure?” He asked slyly.

“I don’t want my guard dog being bitten by any of yours,” Ivar snapped, jerking his head to the side in annoyance. “Come,” was all he needed to say to have you falling obediently to his side Hvitserk right behind you.

“If she takes up too much room she can share with the priest!” Harald called down the hall and you let yourself imagine stabbing him in the face.

“Ivar you said she was my responsibility…” Hvitserk was saying, coming to stop before his brother.

“Yes, until we reached Vestfold and unless my eyes are deceiving me brother we are here.”

“You don’t want—,” Hvitserk started but Ivar interrupted him again.

“She stays with me.” You shifted nervously to the side at the deep rolling anger in Ivar’s voice. He was tired and his legs were hurting, not that he’d ever voice that. Hvitserk looked almost apologetic as he backed away, his hazel eyes locking with yours for a moment before he got lost in the crowd.

—

Darkness fell on Vestfold but not the inky blackness that devoured the horizon at sea. A darkness of dancing shadows and untrustworthy whispers skirted around as you followed Ivar to the great hall. The feast was in full swing, music played, men were drunk, food littered every surface and your stomach rumbled slightly at the sounds and smells that encapsulated you.

“Ivar!” Roared King Harald, mead sloshing out of his horn as he stood. “Princess,” he said with less gusto and a mocking tone followed by an insulting bow that had your hands balling at your sides. “I see you’re still escaping the shackles.” A rumble of laughter swelled from everyone that was listening except Hvitserk who was hunched over his plate. “A priest and a princess. Quite a collection you’ve got going on. Who’s next?” Asked Harald loudly. Ivar gestured for you to sit opposite Hvitserk who finally raised his gaze to meet yours.

“Maybe I’ll add a King to my collection,” Ivar replied, easing himself onto the bench next to you. Harald’s expression dropped for a second before he hitched the smile back up.

“Maybe you will! Skål!” A mingled roar of Skål answered him and they all drank heavily as you carefully took some food from the table and put it on your plate. “Eat, drink. Make merry,” he told you both. You tried to ignore the feel of his eyes on you as an unsettled weariness crept over your skin and you wondered if you were more in danger here than you were on the boat.

—

You were so tired, your eyes drooping as the festivities continued. The warmth of the braziers licked at your tired body but you knew you had to keep yourself awake. Ivar was across the hall talking with Harald and for a moment a spark of panic ignited in your chest at being alone when a familiar presence covered your side. Hvitserk swung his leg over the bench, he reeked of mead and cooked venison. His braids were slightly loose and he had a stupid grin on his face as he leaned back against the wall.

“He is keeping an eye on you, don’t worry,” he told you in that soft tone.

“Who is?” You asked frowning slightly.

“Ivar.” You watched your captor for a moment and sure enough as he took a sip of drink his gaze slid to you, noting the people near you before turning his attention back to King Harald.

—

Another huge chunk is missed here.

—

You recognised her instantly, the way her blonde hair shone brightly against her red dress. Stepping to the side you heard her talking to Ivar, telling him she lived alone and was unmarried. The feeling rose in your chest once again like acid, that this slave girl could create a wedge between you and Ivar. That she could cost you the throne of Kattegat? You didn’t leave your family, your country, your kingdom, to be usurped by a slave. This was your birthright, it flowed in your very veins the right to rule, to be a Queen.

“I never forgot what you told me,” Ivar said, lifting the cup to his lips.

“You are a very special person, Ivar.” She smirked slightly looking down at his hands.

“It is still hard for me to believe that,” he confessed. “All my life has been a struggle. A war against myself.” You despised how open he was being with her, laying himself out there to a stranger he barely knew. Not wanting to hear anymore you swept into his chamber.

“I heard a yell I came to check on you…oh forgive me King Ivar. I didn’t realise you were entertaining.” Cocking an eyebrow you made no move to leave and she rose from her chair.

“It was nice talking with you King Ivar,” keeping her head bowed she slunk past you and back out into the great hall.

“Are you alright?” You asked, eyeing the supports on his legs.

“Yes. Won’t you have a drink with me?” You took her seat wondering what you were going to do about this slave.

—

Leaning close to him, your hand on his shoulder you whispered in his ear.

“I must retire. Too much mead maybe.” He laughed clearly having had plenty of mead himself.

“Make yourself comfortable in my bed,” he offered. His blue eyes tracing the lines of your face before turning back to look out at the feast. “I don’t think I will sleep tonight.” Bowing your head you dipped into his chambers, shedding your dress and laying it out. Finding a cloak you wrapped it around you pulling the hood up you slipped out into the night. You found her almost instantly, most people had gone to bed and the streets were empty. You wasted no time in grabbing her from behind, muffling her screams with your hand as you dragged her into the shadows. She fought you, clawing at your hand and kicking with her feet but she was no fighter, you easily overpowered her forcing her face down to the ground.

“I won’t let you take him from me,” you snarled into her ear, pressing the knife you had taken from Ivar into her throat.

“Ivar will see what you have done. He will kill you for this.” Wrenching her head back she was helpless as you pulled on the blonde tresses.

“You are a slave,” you spat.

“He freed me! You know nothing about us!” Suddenly she started to laugh, a breathy chuckle through her strained neck. “You want to rule,” she wheezed. “He will not pick you, a prisoner of war.” She tried to turn and look at you. “He doesn’t want you, some Saxon bitch or he would have chosen you already. He wants a Viking woman,” her eyes fluttered when you pulled harder, almost ripping the golden hair out by the roots.

“I am more woman than he could ever want.”

“He doesn’t want you…” she breathed again. The words whispered in your mind, clawing at your thoughts and dragging your doubts forward. What if she was right? She couldn’t be, Ivar needed a peer full woman by his side and you were determined to prove just how powerful you could be. The rage flared in your limbs and with a quick motion you sliced her throat open. Jumping back you released her as she gurgled loudly trying to stem the flow of blood that poured from the wound. It stained her dress an even deeper shade, her skin turning paler in the moonlight. You backed away, hurriedly wiping the blade on your cloak knowing you had to return before Ivar realised you were gone. It didn’t take long for her to stop moving, a last breath expelling in a hurry from her body. Wasting no time you grabbed the back of her dress and hauled her round the back of the huts, ducking down when two guards walked past on their rounds. Your heart was thudding wildly but you could see the pig pen just round the corner, if you could get her in there she would be gone for good. You looked up, making sure the guards had moved on, moving swiftly you shoved her through a gap in the wooden fence relieved to hear the snuffling of the pigs as they came to investigate.

“Don’t waste any,” you whispered. Getting back to Ivar’s chamber was easy, washing yourself in the bowl and disposing of the water quickly and quietly before you allowed yourself to slip between the furs of his bed.

—

Another massive bit of the story is missing here, continue at your own risk 😅.

—

“I love you.” His words wrapped around you like an embrace and you wanted to go to him, regardless of the guards either side of you. Lifting your chin defiantly he waited for you to return the sentiment which you felt bursting from you. It burned inside your chest like a white hot flame, searing up your throat to spill from your eyes as tears.

“You will have to see me again to get my reply,” your voice stronger than you thought possible. His blue eyes flashed in the firelight, the telltale sneer of anger and amusement tugging at his lips as his head bowed. Please Ivar. You almost begged out loud for him to touch you, to trail his fingers down your throat like he used to.

“I’m not sure that will be possible, dröttning mínn.” You detected the hint of sadness in his voice, if he truly loved you he’d take you with him surely? Shrugging the hold of the guards off your arms he held out a hand to stop them from pulling you back.

“King Ivar we must leave!” One hissed as the sound of fighting got closer. Björn was coming, he was coming to claim what was rightfully his. His icy eyes watched you wearily as you approached, warring with yourself in this very moment as you clocked the dagger on his belt. Your heart pounded. The blood rushed past your ears and it sounded like the sea against the hull of a longboat. He had taken you worlds away from where you originated, showed you sights your title and lineage would never have allowed you to see. He had let you live. But now, he was leaving.

“Ivar,” you whispered, drawing closer. His eyes fluttered closed as your breath ghosted over his face, completely trusting you in this moment. Pressing your cheek against his you felt him tense as the noise increased, both guards turning to face the threat of certain death and you chose that moment to act. Pulling his knife free with your right hand, reversing it in a swift movement as you plunged it into his neck. He let out a surprised cry that had the crack widening in your heart, blood spurted forcefully from the wound, landing on your face and trickling down your neck and running onto the fabric of your dress. Now the tears spilled, your lips parting in distress at what you had done as he sagged against you. The guards bolted, leaving through the secret back door you had used more than once.

You fell with Ivar, holding your gasping King to you as he bled into your embrace.

“I’m sorry my love,” you sobbed. His blood pooled in the fabric of your dress, warm and slick as it stained your skin. His face became pale, his lips trying to form words as he gazed up helplessly at you. Leaning down, you finally heard what he was whispering.

“You are worthy to be Viking, dröttning mínn.” His hand slacked against his neck as he sighed and you screamed. Loud and piercing just as the doors opened and Björn strode in covered in mud and blood. You looked up through the tears of hatred for yourself and your desperation to hold onto power.

“Please spare me,” you whispered through the shattering of your soul as you cradled Ivar to you. “I am with child.”

#sami’s fic stash #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #dröttning #Vikings

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