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fictionalcharactermbti · 6 years

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Vikings MBTI

Ragnar Lothbrok: The Mastermind

INTJs live in the world of ideas and strategic planning. They value intelligence, knowledge, and competence, and typically have high standards in these regards, which they continuously strive to fulfill. To a somewhat lesser extent, they have similar expectations of others. INTJs focus their energy on observing the world, and generating ideas and possibilities. Their mind constantly gathers information and makes associations about it. They are tremendously insightful and usually are very quick to understand new ideas. However, their primary interest is not understanding a concept, but rather applying that concept in a useful way.

INTJs are natural leaders, although they usually choose to remain in the background until they see a real need to take over the lead. When they are in leadership roles, they are quite effective, because they are able to objectively see the reality of a situation, and are adaptable enough to change things which aren't working well. They are the supreme strategists - always scanning available ideas and concepts and weighing them against their current strategy, to plan for every conceivable contingency. INTJs spend a lot of time inside their own minds, and may have little interest in the other people's thoughts or feelings. Unless their Feeling side is developed, they may have problems giving other people the level of intimacy that is needed. (Personality Page)

Lagertha: The Guardian

ESTJs live in a world of facts and concrete needs. They live in the present, with their eye constantly scanning their personal environment to make sure that everything is running smoothly and systematically. They honor traditions and laws, and have a clear set of standards and beliefs. They expect the same of others, and have no patience or understanding of individuals who do not value these systems. They value competence and efficiency, and like to see quick results for their efforts.

ESTJs are take-charge people. They have such a clear vision of the way that things should be, that they naturally step into leadership roles. They are self-confident and aggressive. They are extremely talented at devising systems and plans for action, and at being able to see what steps need to be taken to complete a specific task. They can sometimes be very demanding and critical, because they have such strongly held beliefs, and are likely to express themselves without reserve if they feel someone isn't meeting their standards. But at least their expressions can be taken at face-value, because the ESTJ is extremely straight-forward and honest. (Personality Page)

Floki: The Dreamer

INFPs, more than other iNtuitive Feeling types, are focused on making the world a better place for people. Their primary goal is to find out their meaning in life. What is their purpose? How can they best serve humanity in their lives? They are idealists and perfectionists, who drive themselves hard in their quest for achieving the goals they have identified for themselves. INFPs are flexible and laid-back, until one of their values is violated. In the face of their value system being threatened, INFPs can become aggressive defenders, fighting passionately for their cause. When an INFP has adopted a project or job which they're interested in, it usually becomes a "cause" for them. Although they are not detail-oriented individuals, they will cover every possible detail with determination and vigor when working for their "cause".

INFPs are highly intuitive about people. They rely heavily on their intuitions to guide them, and use their discoveries to constantly search for value in life. They are on a continuous mission to find the truth and meaning underlying things. Every encounter and every piece of knowledge gained gets sifted through the INFP's value system, and is evaluated to see if it has any potential to help the INFP define or refine their own path in life. (Personality Page)

Rollo: The Doer

ESTPs are outgoing, straight-shooting types. Enthusiastic and excitable, ESTPs are "doers" who live in the world of action. Blunt, straight-forward risk-takers, they are willing to plunge right into things and get their hands dirty. They live in the here-and-now, and place little importance on introspection or theory. The look at the facts of a situation, quickly decide what should be done, execute the action, and move on to the next thing.

They typically makes things up as they go along, rather than following a plan. They love to have fun, and are fun people to be around. They can sometimes be hurtful to others without being aware of it, as they generally do not know and may not care about the effect their words have on others. It's not that they don't care about people, it's that their decision-making process does not involve taking people's feelings into account. They make decisions based on facts and logic. ESTP's least developed area is their intuitive side. They are impatient with theory, and see little use for it in their quest to "get things done". An ESTP will occasionally have strong intuitions which are often way off-base, but sometimes very lucid and positive. The ESTP does not trust their instincts, and is suspicious of other people's intuition as well. (Personality Page)

Princess Aslaug: The Protector

INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. INFJs place great importance on having things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. They are usually right, and they usually know it. Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into their instincts and intuitions.

INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations. They get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. Most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of themselves, and can be secretive. Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities, they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubborness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve themselves and the world around them. (Personality Page)

Bjorn Ironside: The Performer

ESFPs have very strong inter-personal skills, and may find themselves in the role of the peacemaker frequently. Since they make decisions by using their personal values, they are usually very sympathetic and concerned for other people's well-being. They're usually quite generous and warm. They are very observant about other people, and seem to sense what is wrong with someone before others might, responding warmly with a solution to a practical need. They might not be the best advice-givers in the world, because they dislike theory and future-planning, but they are great for giving practical care.

ESFPs love people, and everybody loves an ESFP. One of their greatest gifts is their general acceptance of everyone. They are upbeat and enthusiastic, and genuinely like almost everybody. An ESFP is unfailingly warm and generous with their friends, and they generally treat everyone as a friend. However, once crossed, an ESFP is likely to make a very strong and stubborn judgment against the person who crossed them. They are capable of deep dislike in such a situation. ESFPs usually like to feel strongly bonded with other people, and have a connection with animals and small children that is not found in most other types. (Personality Page)

Athelstan: The Thinker

INTPs live in the world of theoretical possibilities. They see everything in terms of how it could be improved, or what it could be turned into. They live primarily inside their own minds, having the ability to analyze difficult problems, identify patterns, and come up with logical explanations. They seek clarity in everything, and are therefore driven to build knowledge. They are the "absent-minded professors", who highly value intelligence and the ability to apply logic to theories to find solutions. They typically are so strongly driven to turn problems into logical explanations, that they live much of their lives within their own heads, and may not place as much importance or value on the external world. Their natural drive to turn theories into concrete understanding may turn into a feeling of personal responsibility to solve theoretical problems, and help society move towards a higher understanding.

For the INTP, it is extremely important that ideas and facts are expressed correctly and succinctly. They are likely to express themselves in what they believe to be absolute truths. Sometimes, their well thought-out understanding of an idea is not easily understandable by others, but the INTP is not naturally likely to tailor the truth so as to explain it in an understandable way to others. INTPs do not like to lead or control people. They're very tolerant and flexible in most situations, unless one of their firmly held beliefs has been violated or challenged, in which case they may take a very rigid stance. The INTP is likely to be very shy when it comes to meeting new people. On the other hand, the INTP is very self-confident and gregarious around people they know well, or when discussing theories which they fully understand. (Personality Page)

King Ecbert: The Commander

ENTJs are natural born leaders. They live in a world of possibilities where they see all sorts challenges to be surmounted, and they want to be the ones responsible for surmounting them. They have a drive for leadership, which is well-served by their quickness to grasp complexities, their ability to absorb a large amount of impersonal information, and their quick and decisive judgments. They are "take charge" people. ENTJs are very forceful, decisive individuals. They make decisions quickly, and are quick to verbalize their opinions and decisions to the rest of the world.

There is not much room for error in the world of the ENTJ. They dislike to see mistakes repeated, and have no patience with inefficiency. They may become quite harsh when their patience is tried in these respects, because they are not naturally tuned in to people's feelings, and more than likely don't believe that they should tailor their judgments in consideration for people's feelings. Although ENTJs are not naturally tuned into other people's feelings, these individuals frequently have very strong sentimental streaks. Often these sentiments are very powerful to the ENTJ, although they will likely hide it from general knowledge, believing the feelings to be a weakness. Because the world of feelings and values is not where the ENTJ naturally functions, they may sometimes make value judgments and hold onto submerged emotions which are ill-founded and inappropriate, and will cause them problems - sometimes rather serious problems. (Personality Page)

Helga: The Artist

ISFPs live in the world of sensation possibilities. They are keenly in tune with the way things look, taste, sound, feel and smell. They have a strong set of values, which they strive to consistently meet in their lives. They need to feel as if they're living their lives in accordance with what they feel is right, and will rebel against anything which conflicts with that goal. They're likely to choose jobs and careers which allow them the freedom of working towards the realization of their value-oriented personal goals. ISFPs tend to be quiet and reserved, and difficult to get to know well. They hold back their ideas and opinions except from those who they are closest to. They are likely to be kind, gentle and sensitive in their dealings with others. They are interested in contributing to people's sense of well-being and happiness, and will put a great deal of effort and energy into tasks which they believe in.

They're original and independent, and need to have personal space. They value people who take the time to understand the ISFP, and who support the ISFP in pursuing their goals in their own, unique way. People who don't know them well may see their unique way of life as a sign of carefree light-heartedness, but the ISFP actually takes life very seriously, constantly gathering specific information and shifting it through their value systems, in search for clarification and underlying meaning. ISFPs are extremely perceptive and aware of others. They constantly gather specific information about people, and seek to discover what it means. They are usually penetratingly accurate in their perceptions of others. ISFPs are warm and sympathetic. They genuinely care about people, and are strongly service-oriented in their desire to please. They have an unusually deep well of caring for those who are close to them, and are likely to show their love through actions, rather than words. (Personality Page)

Judith: The Visionary

With Extraverted Intuition dominating their personality, the ENTP's primary interest in life is understanding the world that they live in. They are constantly absorbing ideas and images about the situations they are presented in their lives. Using their intuition to process this information, they are usually extremely quick and accurate in their ability to size up a situation. This ability to intuitively understand people and situations puts the ENTP at a distinct advantage in their lives. They generally understand things quickly and with great depth. ENTPs are idea people.

Their perceptive abilities cause them to see possibilities everywhere. They get excited and enthusiastic about their ideas, and are able to spread their enthusiasm to others. In this way, they get the support that they need to fulfill their visions. ENTPs are fluent conversationalists, mentally quick, and enjoy verbal sparring with others. They love to debate issues, and may even switch sides sometimes just for the love of the debate. When they express their underlying principles, however, they may feel awkward and speak abruptly and intensely. ENTPs are less interested in developing plans of actions or making decisions than they are in generating possibilities and ideas. (Personality Page)

Siggy Haraldson: The Caregiver

ESFJs are people persons - they love people. They are warmly interested in others. They use their Sensing and Judging characteristics to gather specific, detailed information about others, and turn this information into supportive judgments. They want to like people, and have a special skill at bringing out the best in others. They are extremely good at reading others, and understanding their point of view. The ESFJ's strong desire to be liked and for everything to be pleasant makes them highly supportive of others. People like to be around ESFJs, because the ESFJ has a special gift of invariably making people feel good about themselves.

The ESFJ takes their responsibilities very seriously, and is very dependable. They value security and stability, and have a strong focus on the details of life. They see before others do what needs to be done, and do whatever it takes to make sure that it gets done. They enjoy these types of tasks, and are extremely good at them. With Extraverted Feeling dominating their personality, ESFJs are focused on reading other people. They have a strong need to be liked, and to be in control. They are extremely good at reading others, and often change their own manner to be more pleasing to whoever they're with at the moment. (Personality Page)

Princess Gisla: The Giver

ENFJs are people-focused individuals. They live in the world of people possibilities. More so than any other type, they have excellent people skills. They understand and care about people, and have a special talent for bringing out the best in others. ENFJ's main interest in life is giving love, support, and a good time to other people. They are focused on understanding, supporting, and encouraging others. They make things happen for people, and get their best personal satisfaction from this. Because ENFJ's people skills are so extraordinary, they have the ability to make people do exactly what they want them to do. They get under people's skins and get the reactions that they are seeking. ENFJ's motives are usually unselfish, but ENFJs who have developed less than ideally have been known to use their power over people to manipulate them.

ENFJ's tend to be more reserved about exposing themselves than other extraverted types. Although they may have strongly-felt beliefs, they're likely to refrain from expressing them if doing so would interfere with bringing out the best in others. Because their strongest interest lies in being a catalyst of change in other people, they're likely to interact with others on their own level, in a chameleon-like manner, rather than as individuals. Which is not to say that the ENFJ does not have opinions. ENFJs have definite values and opinions which they're able to express clearly and succinctly. These beliefs will be expressed as long as they're not too personal. ENFJs have a strong need for close, intimate relationships, and will put forth a lot of effort in creating and maintaining these relationships. They're very loyal and trustworthy once involved in a relationship. (Personality Page)

Ivar The Boneless: The Inspirer

ENFPs live in the world of possibilities, and can become very passionate and excited about things. Their enthusiasm lends them the ability to inspire and motivate others, more so than we see in other types. They can talk their way in or out of anything. They love life, seeing it as a special gift, and strive to make the most out of it. An ENFP who has "gone wrong" may be quite manipulative - and very good it. The gift of gab which they are blessed with makes it naturally easy for them to get what they want. Most ENFPs will not abuse their abilities, because that would not jive with their value systems. ENFPs sometimes make serious errors in judgment. They have an amazing ability to intuitively perceive the truth about a person or situation, but when they apply judgment to their perception, they may jump to the wrong conclusions.

To onlookers, the ENFP may seem directionless and without purpose, but ENFPs are actually quite consistent, in that they have a strong sense of values which they live with throughout their lives. Everything that they do must be in line with their values. An ENFP needs to feel that they are living their lives as their true Self, walking in step with what they believe is right. They see meaning in everything, and are on a continuous quest to adapt their lives and values to achieve inner peace. They're constantly aware and somewhat fearful of losing touch with themselves. Since emotional excitement is usually an important part of the ENFP's life, and because they are focused on keeping "centered", the ENFP is usually an intense individual. (Personality Page)

Ubbe: The Defender

ISFJs live in a world that is concrete and kind. They are truly warm and kind-hearted, and want to believe the best of people. They value harmony and cooperation, and are likely to be very sensitive to other people's feelings. People value the ISFJ for their consideration and awareness, and their ability to bring out the best in others by their firm desire to believe the best. More so than other types, ISFJs are extremely aware of their own internal feelings, as well as other people's feelings. They do not usually express their own feelings, keeping things inside. If they are negative feelings, they may build up inside the ISFJ until they turn into firm judgments against individuals which are difficult to unseed, once set. Many ISFJs learn to express themselves, and find outlets for their powerful emotions.

ISFJs have a very clear idea of the way things should be, which they strive to attain. They value security and kindness, and respect traditions and laws. They tend to believe that existing systems are there because they work. Therefore, they're not likely to buy into doing things in a new way, unless they're shown in a concrete way why its better than the established method. The ISFJ feels a strong sense of responsibility and duty. They take their responsibilities very seriously, and can be counted on to follow through. For this reason, people naturally tend to rely on them. The ISFJ has a difficult time saying "no" when asked to do something, and may become over-burdened. (Personality Page)

Princess Kwenthrith: The Inspector

ISTJs are quiet and reserved individuals who are interested in security and peaceful living. They have a strongly-felt internal sense of duty, which lends them a serious air and the motivation to follow through on tasks. Organized and methodical in their approach, they can generally succeed at any task which they undertake. ISTJs are very loyal, faithful, and dependable. They place great importance on honesty and integrity.

ISTJs have tremendous respect for facts. They hold a tremendous store of facts within themselves, which they have gathered through their Sensing preference. They may have difficulty understanding a theory or idea which is different from their own perspective. However, if they are shown the importance or relevance of the idea to someone who they respect or care about, the idea becomes a fact, which the ISTJ will internalize and support. Once the ISTJ supports a cause or idea, he or she will stop at no lengths to ensure that they are doing their duty of giving support where support is needed. Under stress, ISTJs may fall into "catastrophe mode", where they see nothing but all of the possibilities of what could go wrong. They will berate themselves for things which they should have done differently, or duties which they failed to perform. They will lose their ability to see things calmly and reasonably, and will depress themselves with their visions of doom. (Personality Page)

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malenamoonlight · 3 years

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*** Vikings ladies ***

Happy International Women’s Day!

#a little late #but here is my tribute to these precious ladies #yidu #astrid #gunnhild #princess gisla #margrethe #freydis #judith #torvi #siggy #thorunn #gyda #lagertha #helga #ingrid #aslaug #kwenthrith #vikings

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princessgisla · 7 years

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Vikings + ♛ Queens ♛

↳[for @laure-demontety]

#vikingsedit #vikings #HistoryVikings #lagerthaedit #aslaugedit #Kwenthrith #gunnhild #ealhswith #badass kweens who will fuck shit up #sorry it took so long for me to prep this edit #i've been so busy with work and social life aaahhh #plus my activism and social justice shiznit #not princess gisla #various #my gifs #queens #requests #badass mofos

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

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Madness

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja

Summary: “I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a princess and Ivar travels to England with his brothers & thinks the princess is beautiful but he gets teased by Sigurd and his brothers but she can understand their language and decides to flirt with him in front of everyone?”

So I made her Kwenthrith’s daughter because why the fuck not, and Blaeja (Aelle’s daughter) is on this cause again, why the fuck not. Also the Reader might be a tad insane, but at this rate all my Reader characters are idk what to tell u

Word Count: 4.7k (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mentions of rape and child abuse, mentions and allusions to violence and death, my horrible writing

A/N: Idk how I feel about this, I hope I don’t dissapoint the anon that requested it lol. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading, and ily! <3

Also, I kinda went a lil overboard :/

The handmaid is fixing the coronet over your head when you hear the doors to your rooms open, so she turns to demand propriety from whoever entered unannounced, but seeing Aelle’s daughter with a devilish smile on her lips stops her on her tracks.

“Your Grace.” The woman bows gracefully, and steps back, letting Blaeja take her place.

“Are you ready?” The girl whispers to you, adept hand working at the tresses of your hair to make sure it is carefully hidden under your veil that showcases the delicate circlet on your head.

“You are the one that will be sent off to be married, my friend,” You remind her, chuckling, “To one of those…”

“Lord Sigurd is not that bad,” She interrupts, what for a second sounds like girlish infatuation on her tone. You are opening your mouth to quip on how she refers to one of those brutes as a ‘Lord’ but she clears her throat, and continues, “He played some music for me, the other day.”

“You have nothing to fear then,” You mock with a roll of your eyes, “Maybe he also played music for your father before they executed him, made all of it a much more lovely affair.”

Blaeja tugs at your hair in warning, and you steal a glance at the handmaid that looks carefully at the floor. As if she needed eyes to hear you, as if you didn’t know how she’ll gossip about this with the others.

“Careful, or I’ll ask that you come with me,” She laughs, “I’ll have you sold for two gold coins.”

“You are talking to the heiress to a broken and war-torn kingdom, Lady Blaeja, you better remember that!” You tell her in jest, and she laughs, with that laugh you two share, that laugh born out of despair and loss and uncertainty.

“How could I? Judith never lets me forget what a might Mercia continues to be.” She replies with no little disdain in her tone. After a breath of hesitation, she orders with curt words for the servants to leave you two alone, and once the doors close, the Princess of Northumbria kneels in front of you where you sit, grabbing your hands tightly on her own.

“You are scaring me.”

“There’s no reason to fear,” She tells you even as tears fill her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she whispers, “I heard my sister talking with her husband, about you.”

“Me?”

“Alfred would benefit greatly from having a Mercian Princess as wife,” She states, and though she smiles you feel only cold settling over your heart, dread. “With your mother dead…”

“Dead when King Ecbert, blessed be his memory, took control over Mercia, Blaeja! They already own my kingdom.” You remind her lowly, leaning down so your faces are closer to each other, but this doesn’t dim her smile.

Your heart aches at the reminder of your mother, for her, in all her sins and her scars, was the only family you ever had. The only protection you had, in that palace filled with monsters.

If you think about it, if you sit surrounded by all your sins and your mistakes and your faults and think about it, you know it was the sight of her shaking hands as she looked at them expecting to see blood and told you of the death of her brother that made you stop having faith in your God.

It wasn’t the death of a would-be king at the hands of his sister what made you realize the bishops and priests and deacons and saints were all full of lies, no. It was the emptiness in her gaze as she spoke of walking out of that room a Queen and realizing it wasn’t enough to make up for the pain he -the last remaining alive in the long line of monsters that made up your family- caused her.

It was the hoarse voice of the proud and ruthless Queen of Mercia telling you of the barbarity that took place right under her father’s willfully ignorant gaze, it was the shaking hands that clasped your own and begged for forgiveness that she didn’t need to ask for, it was the severed heads brought in by the Vikings that weren’t enough to heal her, it was the realization God, if he was ever there, looked away most of her life.

You shake those thoughts off, and focus on the Princess before you that smiles in a mix of joy for your fate and bitterness for hers.

With shaky breaths, you insist, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They would have Mercian blood on their lineage, it would strengthen their claim.” She states, and the disgust it fills you with makes you feel shame. You should be ecstatic at the chance of becoming Queen, at the prospect giving Wessex strong sons to prepare for ruling and beautiful daughters to…to exchange like broodmares, like Blaeja, given to a Viking of all men, breakable daughters to fail to protect, like Kwenthrith, raped by her own brother and uncle.

You remember your mother’s pain. You remember her whispers about the court being filled with snakes, you remember her stories about the women with swords and loud voices.

And you remember King Ecbert’s lessons. You remember his tales about the land where his Ragnar Lothbrok came from, you remember his bitterness at the strange land that captured the heart of a man of God such as Athelstan.

You meet her brown eyes, and force a smile on your lips, because may the earth part underneath your feet and drag you down, you will not wed Alfred.

____

They introduce you to the sons of Ragnar, and you will admit, Blaeja looks positively smitten by the easy smile the blond man gives her in greeting. Lovely.

Judith makes a point of having you be sitting next to Alfred who, blessed be his soul, attempts to strike conversation with you only to be stopped by his own shyness.

You still offer him a few courteous smiles, and thank his kindness when he offers it so. When the Vikings talk amongst each other, mostly about the strange food and customs, you notice the King looks at you to gauge your expression, as if he knows you also know their tongue.

You worry about how much King Ecbert shared with him for a moment, but say nothing.

“So, the one that walked in with your bride,” One of the sons of Ragnar starts, and though you decide to pay attention you keep your gaze on your food and the entertainment going on around you, offering one of the performers a small smile. “Who is she?”

“Princess of Mercia, I think. The crazy queen father fought for with Uncle Rollo and the others, that’s her daughter.” A man with hair that you thought first was short but realized later falls down his back in a thick braid, his blond beard unkept, but his eyes those of an experienced man as they look over the room.

“Let’s hope beauty is not all she shares with that crazy bitch, huh? I would love to fuck a Saxon princess again.” Mocks a man you weren’t introduced to, so not a son of Ragnar, with ink on his face and long dark hair.

You realize too late you have lifted your gaze and set your eyes on him, what is sure to be affront and embarrassment showing on your face.

You lower your eyes again to the table before you, clenching your hands into fists on your lap, but you feel like someone is looking at you, and from the other end of the table, when you peek carefully, you catch the eyes of the one they introduced but whose name you can’t remember, the one with short dark hair, the one whose legs seem to be broken.

He looks at you with a silver of surprise, but there’s something else there. Regardless, you know he knows, and it makes fear settle on your stomach like acid. You wonder if this is what Burgred felt when he was poisoned.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, Ivar,” Blaeja’s betrothed starts, voice sickly mocking. “Are you hoping she’ll look back? Take your cripple ass to her bed?”

“Sigurd…” One of the elder brothers grumbles, clearly tired of it all.

“I’m just saying, he’d have more luck forcing a thrall to touch him than hoping a free woman will.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, brother? Fucking your slave so she can’t even say no.”

“Who out of the two of us will bed a princess, hmm? It surely isn’t the cripple that can’t even please a slave right, is it?”

You and Alfred exchange a look, no longer pretending either of you don’t understand, as the youngest, Ivar, snarls some threat at his brother, voice and temper rising alike.

Refusing to be spoken of like some sort of cunt with a crown, you speak up, though your gaze remains on your plate.

“Princess Blaeja asks you to play that awful lute to keep your paws off her, so I fear that arrogance is unfounded, my Prince.”

Alfred chokes on his drink as he tries covering a startled laugh with a cough, and you feel wide eyes from the end of the table where the Vikings seat settle on you.

“What did you say?” One of the men asks slowly, and with the madness your mother left you with, you lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the man you recognize as Bjorn Ironside.

“My mother wasn’t crazy,” Is all you reply with gritted teeth, before turning to the blonde that Blaeja is to marry. You don’t know what it is that makes you open your mouth again, but you do, “And I was indeed looking at your brother. I feel for you deeply, my Prince, if you can’t recognize want in a woman’s gaze.”

Alfred clears his throat, what you could swear is a smile -the youthful smile of a boy witnessing chaos- shyly settling on his lips, and stands up to propose a toast and dissipate the atmosphere.

“With this being one of the last nights our dear Blaeja, daughter of the late King Aelle, blessed be his soul, spends with us, I-…”

You don’t listen anymore, taking a sip from your wine and catching over the rim of your goblet the eyes of the youngest son of Ragnar -Ivar, you remind yourself- on you, studying you with a mix of mistrust and curiosity.

You keep your gaze on his, and as you lower your cup from your lips, you offer a smile. His own lips tremble in what was sure to be an instinctual reply with a smile of his own, before he schools his features.

Regardless, he takes his eyes off yours and in his whole posture embarrassment is written. Managing to fluster a Viking of all men fills you with a thrill, a heat, like no other.

The men toast and you gesture your goodbyes as the dinner is dispersed. Before you can make it out the door, Blaeja stops you with a hand on your arm.

“What did y-…do you speak their tongue?”

“I do. King Ecbert taught me a lot before he died,” You state, before frowning in confusion and thoughtfulness, “Before he died at the hands of these men…Blaeja, my friend, don’t you ever stop and think about how strange it all has become?”

Blaeja only narrows her eyes with a growing exasperated smile on her lips.

“I care about what you said to my future husband.”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” You pat her cheek in friendly jest, making her roll her eyes. After a moment of consideration, you tell her, “Though he may not play his lute as often anymore, I fear.”

____

You wait impatiently by the window to your room, wondering over and over if this is the wrong choice, if you are making the worst mistake possible, if you are walking into the wolf’s den.

Before you can think yourself out of this, Blaeja, with her head covered by a dark cloak, makes her way into your room.

“I didn’t think your betrothed would agree.” Is all you state, dryly, as she motions for you to get your own cloak.

“Oh, I can assure you Prince Sigurd despises you, but luckily, he seems to adore me. Go, and don’t make me regret this.”

With a light laugh you kiss her cheek and dart out of the room, ready to follow the familiar path to where you asked Prince Sigurd to arrange a meeting between his brother and you.

“So it is you.” He says, dragging himself up a couch in front of yours. You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling, and try to remember all the logic, all the strategy, you’ve put behind this stupid plan of yours.

“I told them to let you know.” You reply curtly, but the Prince shrugs.

“Sigurd could be mocking me. Make the cripple think he is meeting with the Princess?” He shrugs, but it is not nonchalant in the slightest. In all of his fame and vitriol, you notice, now only remains a man uncertain, unmoored, braced for rejection or mocking like you’ve scarcely seen before. The knowledge that you, or the combination of you and his older brother, seem to be a vulnerable point for him is a knowledge you don’t truly know what to do with. You say nothing in response, and with a movement of his head, after settling in his seat, he insists, “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“You norsemen have a reputation,” You start carefully, plucking at a lose string on the sleeve of your dress. “And the crown needs the allegiance Blaeja’s marriage with your brother gives them, so no mat-…”

“I don’t like your roundabout ways,” He states brusquely, and it stops you on your tracks, your eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the Prince. He gestures with one hand, a frown starting to mar his face, “Just say what you want, Princess.”

“I want you to take me with you back to wherever it is you come from. I want them to believe I’ve been stolen.”

The Prince looks at you like you have grown a second head, and to be quite frank, once the words have left your lips you realize you might as well have. This is foolish, and dangerous, and...crazy.

That’s what they called your mother, not only these norsemen but all of them. Because she admitted what many didn’t dare to: that if she had been born with a cock they all would have bowed and given her the crown she deserved, that the earth would have been easier to walk on.

You refuse to think madness is a bad trait.

You don’t have to ponder whether the Viking will see it as such, for you notice you have piqued his interest, you notice the curiosity at the madness in your request.

“Are you sure you aren’t the mad Mercian princess?”

You offer a humorless laugh at his taunt, and retort, “I don’t want to be here anymore. And…I can prove useful to you.”

“If you say a wife…”

You don’t let him finish, leaning closer and whispering,

“They want me to marry Alfred.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“His grandfather took Mercia from me, I will not be used as a broodmare so they can hold on tighter to my kingdom.”

The Viking starts to smile, wild and yet calculating, the ruthless and intelligent man his fame says he is.

“But you don’t want revenge.”

“They can fight for the scraps of what once was a mighty kingdom for the rest of time for all I care,” You offer honestly, “I do not want to be caught up in between. I will have to give him children if I marry him, and I refuse to let a child of mine suffer like my mother did, like Blaeja did.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his tone grows cruel, mocking, like the cat that plays with the poor mouse before eating it, when he insists, “I could make you a slave, sell you. If you annoy me, I could torture you. If you betray me, I would kill you.”

“I told you I was of use to you, though,” You insist past the fear that makes your hands tremble, “I will not be of use in pieces. You and Alfred played chess before, haven’t you?”

He loosens his posture, his expression is no longer so guarded and venomous as he asks, “And what is this use?”

“I’m a pawn they want to make Queen,” You state, and the Viking starts to smile. You knew he was smart; you knew he was aware of how he could take advantage of ‘taking’ you as a prisoner for his own gain. You have a feeling he wanted to know if you were aware of how your position could be played. Like chess, you ponder. “Surely you could ask for a lot in exchange for my safe return home.”

He considers your words in silence for a few moments, eyes travelling between yours as if trying to read your response to the words he has not yet uttered.

“And if I don’t want to return you to your home?”

You shrug, “Then they’ll have a rallying call for their war against your people, and I will be free from these…these nobles and their fucking priests.”

The Viking breathes a laugh, surprised and a little enthralled it seems, but you find yourself smiling back.

You keep careful eyes on the moon that travels the skies, watchful over the time that you will have to return to your rooms before anyone notices your absence. But in the meantime, you enjoy with easy smiles and a light heart the company of the Viking, surprisingly enough.

____

And the few extra days Blaeja can buy you do almost nothing for the plans of your escape -a part of you is certain the Viking has a plan he won’t share with you- but it does let you get to know the man you are asking to kidnap you. A giant brute like the others, that’s for certain, but he is smart, and cunning, and his dry humor never fails to make you laugh.

You find yourself intrigued, captivated, much more so than you could have thought when you made the choice to speak out against his brother during that first dinner. It is no secret to you he is no longer a pawn in the game you decided to play, but you cannot help but think you still are merely a pawn to him.

One of the nights you meet under the guard of the moon, he starts, “I cannot take you from this city, not without an army.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise, “And you have thought of a way around that.”

“Haven’t you?” You reply with a small smile, knowing he has.

“If you could go closer to York…”

“Or you closer to Tamworth.”

“We’d have no way to leave by sea. I can’t exactly walk through the wilderness with you, Princess, as you can see.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips, but eventually acquiesce with a nod.

You sigh, “Then I don’t know, Ivar.”

You notice it is the first time you have said his name instead of his title, and you raise startled and apologetic eyes to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though you notice his gaze lingering on you for a few moments longer than it should.

It gives your still young and innocent heart a shock of hope that you feel all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“One way or another, I will steal you, Princess,” He insistes, and you only lift an eyebrow in response. He crosses his arms, “I promise.”

____

“They leave tonight.” Blaeja starts from her place sitting at your side on the garden bench. You turn to her.

“You leave tonight,” You remind her, “Aren’t you forgetting your lovely husband to be?”

But she shakes her head, “Prince Sigurd and I will marry if he returns,” Her voice wavers, and you realize with a mix of dread and joy she has learned to care for the Viking. She straightens her back and continues, “When he returns from the battle they depart today to prepare for.”

“Against Alfred?”

“Against the woman that murdered their mother. He says they are to take back their Kingdom from her.”

“Your Prince trusts you with all of these things.”

“His brother tells you things too.” She states without hesitation, and you look at her but stay silent, not denying Ivar has told you of Queen Aslaug and her murder already. Many things actually, just as you have told him many things too.

“So it will be a while before you see him again, if ever.” You muse, not only talking about her. It would be foolish to feel pain, loss, fear; you tell yourself. It doesn’t stop the prick of tears on your eyes, or the pit of pain on your chest.

“I will depart to Bamburgh in three days to await word of the outcome of the battle.”

You lay your head on her shoulder, releasing a shaky breath, “I’ll miss you.”

_____

Judith hounds you like a dog and it is starting to get on your nerves. You feel you are being judged and considered carefully for the role of Alfred’s wife, a role you do not want to be in and, if you were to ask him, you don’t think he’d want you in either.

The talks start of having a royal wedding soon after Blaeja weds the Viking Prince, who seems to have survived the battle for Kattegat. You tried asking around, bribing a servant or two, to figure out the fate of Prince Ivar, but you are too close to bearing the crown for them to feel comfortable trading secrets with you, it seems.

You catch sight of Alfred’s eyes on you during a dinner one night, and he offers what you swear is a soothing smile even if his warm eyes shine with regret.

Judith grabs onto her son’s arm and a tired-looking Aethelwulf stands up from his throne, calling for the attention of the clergy and nobles alike.

They announce you as Alfred’s betrothed after a few words you don’t bother with listening to.

As a gift for his bride to be, Alfred arranges for a few soldiers to escort you to Bamburgh, apparently at the request of Princess Blaeja that you accompany her on her wedding day. And barely with time to pack, almost three months after you last saw her, you are in a carriage on your way to the North.

____

She looks radiant, that’s the first thing you notice when you see her awaiting for you by the gates to the royal home. Bright smile and even brighter eyes, rosy cheeks and excitement and joy written all over her posture.

It gladdens you, to know she will be wed to a man she can care for, a man that can care for her. That maybe, just maybe, like in those tales your mother used to mock, there’s love to be felt before the Lord is to bind them together.

And once the ships arrive you will not lie and pretend you don’t feel disappointment, maybe grief, at the absence of the vitriolic yet captivating prince you met what seems so long ago.

You heard them talking about a son of Ragnar becoming King of Kattegat, and you have no doubts as to who bears the crown now. In another world, you may have left, he may have earned a kingdom in what used to be Mercia or Northumbria in exchange for the safe return to Wessex you’d never make.

But you will not let it stop you from finding a way out of this arrangement, of this…this marriage.

The possibility of asking Blaeja to claim you as a permanent resident of her land is there, of course, but you don’t think she has enough leverage against the crown itself to be able to keep you more than a few months. You could simply run away, but you are not stupid, you know you’d die or be found before you can spend a moon in the wilderness.

Still, you are a smart woman, you tell yourself, you will find a way out.

While the dinner -feast, they call it- in celebration for the wedding takes place, a man you recognize as one of the eldest sons of Ragnar approaches you while you sit alone.

You cannot help the pang of fear that runs through you at the sight of one of those giants looming over you, but you still offer what you hope is a courteous smile.

“You have to come with me.” He tells you, and you frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Follow me.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning his back to you and slithering effortlessly between the dancing and feasting guests. After a moment of consideration, with a small smile on your face as if it were a thrillingly dangerous game of hide and seek, you chase after the Viking.

He leads you all the way down to the docks, and since the moon is high up in the skies, the streets are almost deserted and you are left forced to guide yourself in the darkness or thanks to the rare and dim light of a faraway lantern.

You still push on, your heart beating on your ears and fear and thrill bubbling under your skin.

“This is where I leave you, Princess,” The son of Ragnar says, stopping abruptly and turning to you. You frown, but he doesn’t step closer so you have nothing to fear. “We will see each other again.”

The man with the blondish and long hair gestures a mock of a formal goodbye, and walks confidently back to the royal home where the party -feast- is still taking place.

You are left dumbfounded and alone in the darkness, and instinct makes you want to chase after him and demand answers.

“Following a strange Viking into the darkness,” A familiar voice starts from behind you, stopping you on your tracks, “No wonder people say you are as crazy as your mother, Princess.”

You turn around with a frown and raised chin, ready to retort, “My mother was not c-…”

But you realize halfway as the words leave your lips whose voice it is, to whom the familiar pale blue eyes belong to.

Ivar stands now, and his hair seems longer and braided in some strange style, even his armor looks different. It seems like years have passed even though it has scarcely been half a year yet.

“You’re alive.” You whisper, and the Viking frowns, affronted.

“Of course I am,” He replies arrogantly, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips. He extends a hand, “And I’ve come to…steal you, was it?”

You don’t answer, even if a part of you is thrilled at him remember that first conversation. You only look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a king now.”

“Hmm, and I was offered a queen, was I not?”

It startles you back to reality, back to your senses, and you notice the three ships with dim lanterns and silent warriors docked at the sides of the dragon-headed ship Ivar -King Ivar now, you suppose- stands in.

“That’s…not what I meant.” You say, but still your hand grasps at the skirts of your dress to lift it up, and you walk closer.

“Have you decided to stay with them?” And the sudden steel underneath his words, a promise of what you could be at the other end of if he is to believe you’ve fooled him, or gone back on your word, makes a thrill of fear go down your back.

“No, but…”

“Usually stealing a bride doesn’t involve this much talking, Princess.” He interrupts, and extends a hand, and you look at it with wide eyes.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I-…” You look into his eyes, pale blue eyes that you saw more than once when you closed your own in these past months, and a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “This is madness.”

Ivar says nothing, but his hand is still stretched between you. You take it, and jump into the ship.

___

So, that was it :/ I have a feeling it’s pretty boring but I’ll hope that’s cause I wrote it lol

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think, and if you wanna rquest anything go right ahead, I promise to try my best lol

Thank you, I hoped you enjoyed <3

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

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devoutpriest · 2 months

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ragnarxlodbrok:

“HE SEEMS SO, YES," ragnar said, as he scratches his chest of his shirt. "I AM INTERESTED IN HIS LAND. I WANT TO HAVE A PLACE TO FARM HERE, TO SEE HOW DIFFERENT THEIR LAND IS. IN RETURN…I ASSUME HE WILL WANT ME TO FIGHT FOR HIM.” england was a beautiful place, where king ecbert was.

“AND I THINK YOU WILL SEE HE WILL BE QUITE AGREEABLE TO THE IDEA, FOR HE DOES WANTS YOU TO FIGHT IN RETURN," he says, as they are at wessex, england. they had fought their battle in wessex in the forest of baer, where he nearly got killed from crucifixion, until ecbert said to cut him down. they are in the brown wood castle. he was living with jess there, and was talking to ragnar through the door. "IT IS NOT FOR HIM THOUGH, BUT FOR PRINCESS KWENTHRITH.”

#rp partner | ragnarxlodbrok #ic

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sammyjadedavis · 3 years

Text

Everything’s changing…

Chapter 1

Torvi, is a Princess and she was the love of his life…or so everyone thought. You could tell he was a jealous man when it came to her, no man was dumb enough to stand to close to her or hold a conversation for to long and they would never give her bedroom eyes when he was around…he loved her full heartedly.

Torvi’s Point Of View

“Hello?” I yelled though my house not knowing who was here since no one was meant to be here other then me and my two sons who were both sleeping and it shouldn’t be the slaves since I’ve given them the day off. It couldn’t be Lagthera since she was also away raiding with the Ragnarssons and the rest of the people in Kattegat. I heard more noises not knowing who or what it was a grabbed the dagger off the countertop and walked towards the noise…

“Who’s there?” I asked once more but no response…I picked up the dagger as a I walked around more then a blonde woman was standing in my household crying…holding onto a piece of my husband’s hair?

“I’m only asking you one more time…who are you?” She looked up at me from the floor and then my husband walked in and looked at the thing in front of him before coming over to me and grabbing my waist pulling me into him.

“Who is she?” I whispered to him this time since she seems to be a mute at the moment and I would like to know who’s sitting in my house crying on my floor and why she is there to begin with.

“Don’t get mad…it is Thorunn…we had sex…while we where all in England and she’s…well…she’s with my child…Torvi look at me…” he had whispered all of this into my neck pulling at the necklace that was around my neck and he moved my hair more while I stayed quiet looking down at the woman who is still very much crying on my floor to my house with my husband’s baby inside her stomach…I was not happy…

“Get her out…I’m staying with Ivar tonight you can have the kids since they haven’t seen you in awhile don’t follow me also I wasn’t going to tell you this but while you were gone Erlendur came back and he raped me but you seemed to of had so much fun while you where away…I’ll see you tomorrow and if she’s still here you’ve made your choice…I don’t care if she stays in Kattegat she can but she’s not staying in our house with our children…” I said before trying to get out of Bjorn’s grip that he had around my waist not letting go…

“Wait go back…” he said turning me around in his arms so I was facing him…

“I’m staying with Ivar.” I said knowing exactly what he meant but I didn’t want to repeat myself not about anything that I’d seen, heard or said from the conversation I’d just had.

“Not that…you know what I mean…Little Bear…tell me what he did…” I shook my head and tried to leave again but he just bought me closer and put his lips on mine.

“I’ll see you in the morning Bjorn…” I mumbled against his lips before leaving…I couldn’t be in there not in that house with him and her not with knowing everything I know…I needed to be somewhere else…anywhere else and tonight that would be staying in the great hall with Ivar since his like a little brother to me and I know he’ll always be there for me as will I for him.

I walked into the great hall seeing many of the warriors standing around talking some kissing others hugging but all of them had one thing in common they were happy unlike me…sure I was happy my husband was still alive but I was heart broken he’d gotten another pregnant and it’s heart wrenching knowing that right now his with her alone and could be doing anything…but I wasn’t going to think about that or at least I was trying not too.

“Torvi? Torvi why are you not with Bjorn he was so happy to be back and to be back with you?” It was his mother Lagertha, she was a close friend of mine and I was close with her even before Bjorn and I started seeing each other. She leaned in for a hug and started walking towards a table with her arm still around me…

“His with the boys and I’m just here to see Ivar again and let him tell me about his raiding adventures…we were together for a while but his dealing with a few things at the moment and I didn’t want to interrupt…he’ll be busy for a while if you need me I’ll be in here tonight but you might be able to see Bjorn later tonight though his a little tried…” I trialed off trying to find Ivar or anyone else to get myself away from this mess that was happening in my life right now…I was looking for any of my close friends whether it be Ivar, Astrid or Margrethe any of the above will work for me right now…but knowing my luck of late none of them were in sight…

“Oh and Torvi I just wanted to tell you Bjorn’s got another brother…Magnus his from Kwenthrith and Ragnar’s affairs that had happened in England…all them years ago…now go find Ivar I know his been looking for you but understood that Bjorn has first rights to see you…since he is your husband after all.” I nodded letting my head go crazy and then I wonder off to find Ivar and let my brain take a break from everything that is happening in my household right now…

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fangirlings-things · 4 years

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Tell him...

─━━━━━━⊱❉⊰━━━━━━─

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Aethelwulf x female reader

Summary: Ragnar's sister catches the Prince's attention when the northern men arrive at Wessex and go to the castle to make a deal with the king

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: curse words, mentions of sex and violence

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @philomaela

• Requested by anon: hey could you do a one shot about your Aethelwulf imagine? Thank youu

Hope you like it anon, it was fun to write this, so it turned out to be longer than I expected!!

“So if we fight for princess Kwenthrith, you will give us a piece of land?” Ragnar's tone was questioning, precise as usual. Leaned back on the chair he had occupied in a almost relaxed position, he appeared to have no worries at all in life. But it was far from the truth. One of the most things Ragnar Lothbrok had in those times, were worries.

“Yes, yes” King Ecbert agreed excitedly, his curious eyes averting themselves between all the northern that were currently sitting at his table, feasting like old friends. His tone was tender and his smile was sympathetic. Too good to be true. “If you agree to help giving Mercia's throne back to it's rightful owner, that being princess Kwenthrith, I will give you a good part of land where you will be able to farm and live in peace”

“He has his own ambitions over Mercia, doesn't he, brother?” you spoke in the northern native language, making all the english present frown in confusion and curiosity. It amused you, no doubt, as you raised your eyebrows in Ragnar's direction. You might not understand what the King was saying directly but just from Athelstan's translation and the look in that man's eyes, you knew he was hiding something. Had to be.

“Of course he does” Ragnar fixed his bright blue eyes on you, his younger sister, that impertinent smile that curved the corner of his lips a lot appearing on his face and enlightening his features. He wasn't surprised at all about your good observation. “But that is not our bussiness or responsibility”

“What are they saying?” King Ecbert directed his question to Athelstan, who was sitting by your right side in his monk clothes, the ones you had gotten unused to see him wearing in the last few years. See your friend back at his own faith, hurt you a little. You hoped he could after, all find, comfort in your people’s Gods. But the fact that he didn't, didn't changed at all your care for him. Honestly, you had been devastated when you thought he had died. It was soo good to see him again.

“They are discussing the proposition, my Lord” Athelstan quickly lied, the serious expression he held in his face leaving no questions to be made about it, convincing everyone.

You had a little amused smile on your face after hearing Athelstan's words and when you took her eyes out of her brother's face and passed them through the english folk, you met the prince's. He was staring at you deeply, it seemed that for a while now, since he didn't turn away when you returned his intense gaze. That only made your amused smile grow wider, to see the various shades of interest his brown eyes were assuming while fixed on you.

“Athelstan?” you called the priest and that made him turn his attention to you, as well as everybody else. Just like you wanted to. “Ask prince Aethelwulf why he is staring at me like that”

By hearing his name, even though he didn't understand what had been said, the prince semeed to be finnaly gotten out of guard and clearing his throat, turned his eyes to the food he hadn't touched since it had been served almost an hour before.

“Prince Aethelwulf, King Ragnar's sister, (Y/N), wants to know why you are staring at her like that” Athelstan made the question in a neutral tone, although in the silent great hall it sounded like teasing.

“Tell her I am thinking whether she is or not a threat” the prince ended up saying after giving it some thought, his hands joined over the table and the metal ring on his finger seeming suddenly colder. Or was it his body that was getting hotter?

Athelstan translated what he had just said to you and Aethelwulf just watched as you listened to the words the monk said and continued to show that smile of yours.

“Tell him, that he shouldn't be thinking about it. He should instantly consider me a threat” you played with the metal knife that had been placed by your plate for the feast, rolling it between your fingers with an undeniable ability. It made the prince ask himself how many men you had already killed. Plenty, probably. “I can be dangerous. If I want to”

“(Y/N)...” Ragnar said at the exact same time as Lagertha let out a laugh, shaking her head from one side to another, clearly entertained by your statement. And although Ragnar had interfered over your provocative words, he made no sign to stop Athelstan from translating them. And so the monk did.

I can be dangerous if I want to. Aethelwulf chuckled at that, shaking his head just like Lagertha but for a different reason. It was unbelievable, the boldness in yourvoice and the smile that seemed to have been carved up on your pretty face. You intrigued and fascinated him, for some misterious reason. Maybe, it was due to the fact that you were entirely different from any other woman he had ever met.

“Tell her, Athelstan, that I will keep that in mind” now that he could feel all the eyes on him, the hall seemed smaller than it was. As much as he woud never admit it out loud, being under the northern's stare made him nervous. Although maybe, a little less than it really should. Being such a successful commander in battle, Aethewulf had over time, lost real fear over his opponents, whomever they were. The tension, though, never went away.

Athelstan translated the short phrase and for the moment, that little interaction was ended.

“Very well, I accept your offer. I will fight for princess Kwenthrith and give the throne back to her and you, will give us land to farm” Ragnar's voice filled the air, breaking the silence and sounding like a drum even though his tone was stern, not even loud. Perhaps it was the weight of those words, that made them sound so remarkable.

“Excellent!” it was impossible, not to see how King Ecbert seemed to be in a state of bliss because of the answer he had just been given. You couldn't help but think that he apparently needed your people’s warriors, their fighting skills. A lot. “You will leave to Mercia in the morning then, so we can settle this as quick as possible”

“Agreed. As long,” as your brother continued to speak when he wasn't expected to, you laughed discretely. The sudden irritation on Aethelwulf's face was hilarious. “as you take some of my men to the land you will give us, so they can see it and begin to establish themselves”

“That is unacceptable! Only after you actually win the battle...” the prince spilled out the words in quickly, seeming to be just one step away from getting up and taking his sword on hand. You would like to see him try.

“Son” Ecbert gave the prince a warning, reprimanding look before taking a deep breath and clapping his palms together, turning the corners of his lips upwards while fixing his gaze on the King of the northern people. “I agree with your terms. I will take the men you leave behind to the settlement myself, in a gesture of good faith and friendship”

Athelstan translated what the royal men were saying so that Lagertha and you could understand it, word by word.

“He is a prince or a dog, that has to be held back when barking without permission?” your tone was fierce, as well as the gaze you set upon him. The hatred he showed for your brother got to your nerves.

“Athelstan, what did she say?” Aethelwulf immediately asked, when taking notice of Ragnar and Lagertha's careful expressions and the poison on your voice. It couldn't have been nothing good. When Athelstan didn't respond the prince looked at the munk with questioning eyes, just to see a spark of fear in him. That confirmed his previous thought. It couldn't have been nothing good. “Athelstan, what did she say?”

The priest did not answer him straight away. First, he turned to you for approval. Even though he was on King Ecbert's realm and had lived for years under King Ragnar's ruling, he still turned to you first, seeking permission.

“The lady asks if you are a prince or a dog, my Lord” Athelstan had his eyes fixed on his own plate as he spoke, clearly not expecting a good reaction from the prince. “She noticed how you were... reprimanded by your father”

Aethelwulf bit hardly at his lower lip at that, his eyes fixed so hardly upon you that they would have made holes in your head if intensity and anger could kill. The rage consumed his body and only after a moment he got roughly out of his chair and made his way towards you.

You only stood there, watching him with piercing eyes and that disturbingly beautiful smile still carved on your plump lips. You seemed delightful, to have pushed him to such an edge. You didn't even flinch when he grabbed the back of your chair and turned it around so that it was now in his direction, like the weight of you upon the furniture was nothing. He was, indeed, a very strong man.

From the corner of his eye he could see how his father had straightened his posture on the King's chair at the head of the table, his breathing erratic because he very well knew what his son was capable of when angered. Athelstan seemed shocked, frozen in place. Lagertha started to make a move in your defense, but Ragnar stopped her with only a look and a smile. He better than anyone else, knew that his sister could take care of herself.

“Listen to me very carefully” Aethelwulf placed each of his hands on the arms of your chair and leaned down so that your faces were on the same level and really, really close to one another. You were even more beautiful from this close distance. “I am not a dog. And if you ever call me that again...”

And then, you moved. You turned the knife you had been playing with between your fingers once more and in a fraction of a second, placed the blade against the soft skin under his chin. Like you, he didn't even flinch when threatened, although the other's breath hissed.

“What would you do then, huh?” you pressed the blade harder, tilting his head up just a bit. For a brief second, you moved her gaze to his lips and then back at his eyes. Your eyes were filled with such ferocity and wildness. You were a natural viking. He could feel your hot breath on his face, so intoxicating that if it wasn't for the blade on his skin he could have forgotten for a moment about the rage he was feeling for you. “Would you kill me, prince Aethelwulf?”

You looked at Athelstan, and he understood it as a sign to translate what you had just said. He did, and Aethelwulf sucked in a long breath because of how mad you were driving him.

“I think he understood your point now, sister” Ragnar spoke breaking the silence again, not even a little disturbed about the scene rolling in front of his face.

“Right” you said in agreement and then took the blade out of the prince's skin, not before giving his parted lips another glance though. As he returned to his father's side, both the english men exchanging a long meaningful look and while they did so, you turned to Ragnar. “I was just having a little fun”

─━━━━━━⊱❉⊰━━━━━━─

God curse these northern men. Aethelwulf had that same thought playing inside his head over and over again unstoppably, ever since the feast in which the fate of Mercia had been decided was ended. As he prepared the army, it's weapons and organized strategies with his Captains, that thought was always there, hunting him like a persistent ghost.

He couldn't put aside the boldness in Ragnar Lothbrok's voice as he spoke about a deal, like he was certain the King would have no choice but to accept it. Like he was the ruler of the whole world. There was also Lagertha's confidence and how she held her chin high always, even if she spoke little. She seemed prepared for anything, since that in the moment Ecbert spoke about someone staying to lead the northern to their new lands, she agreed. And then, there was you.

You had kept on looking at Aethelwulf during the feast from time to time, and so he did his best to ignore you. Tried, anyway. His eyes always ended up going back to you eventually. You had seemed eager to go to battle for Mercia, but Ragnar told you that you should stay with Lagertha and go to the settlement. And Aethelwulf was surprised to see as you agreed, that your beautiful smile wasn't the same anymore. There was a shadow behind it. Disappointment. You intrigued him, he couldn't deny that. Did he hate the northern? Yes. Did he want to get rid of them? Yes, of course. Would he get rid of you so easily if given the opportunity? Probably not.

His own response to that mental question angered him, like most things did lately, and he slammed his fist on the wooden table he had on his chambers, sighting heavily before placing his elbows on it and covering his face with his hands.

Then, a sudden knock on the door startled him. Uncovering his face and frowning at the sudden visitor, whomever it was, Aethewulf directed his gaze to the open door of his room and was even more than surprised to see Athelstan standing there. What was he doing there in the middle of the night?

“Can I come in, my Lord?” the priest asked after a moment, noticing that the prince was too surprised and confused to say anything.

“Yes, do come in” Aethelwulf cleared his throat and mentioned with one of his hands for the munk to move forward. He did never like or trust Athelstan completely because of his previous connections with the northern men but still, he was a man of God. And a man of God, always deserved to be at least listened.

Athelstan smiled minimally in gratitude and then entered the chamber. As he did so, a second someone was revealed from behind him. Just when this person also entered the room, the prince recognized that to be you, Ragnar Lothbrok's sister, your features illuminated beautifully by the candle lights.

“What is going on here, Athelstan?” Aethelwulf quickly asked, joining his hands over the table and averting his eyes from you to the munk. All kinds of thoughts ran through his mind. Perhaps you wanted to kill him. But what good to the alliance would that bring?

“(Y/N) wanted to see you, my Lord” Athelstan answered his question with honesty and a calm expression on his face. He didn't seem tense like he had been at the feast. It was almost like he already knew the outcome of that meeting. What did he know? “She needed a translator, so I came along”

“What bussiness does she have to discuss with me?” the prince slowly got up from his chair and made his way around the table, stopping in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest in a questioning position. He was someone who took pride in being good at planning and reading others. In that moment, although, he had no clue at all about what was happening and that bothered him deeply.

“It has nothing to do with business, my Lord” Athelstan said those words in a rush, a blush getting a hold of his pale cheeks before he mumbled out his next phrase, without looking the prince in the eye. “She wanted me to ask you if you would like to... fuck her”

Aethelwulf was too astonished to say something. At first, he thought he hard heard it wrong. No, that could not be. But then, he moved his brown eyes from the munk to the you and saw that confident, impertinent expression on your face that made him realize that Athelstan was telling the truth. He had only said in english what you told him to say in norse.

“Ask him if he is always this shy with women” you said in norse, not even trying to hide the fact that your eyes ran up and down the prince's body. Oh, you did like what you saw there.

Aethelwulf took a deep breath after hearing Athelstan's translation of what you had just said. How could you affect him so much? You were right, he not usually froze like that. When it came to sex, he had always been very quick in acting. But hearing such an open invitation from you, hit him a way that the english man could not describe.

“You took me by surprise” he said, passing one of his hands through his beard, thinking very seriously about what he should do. Did he want you? Yes, since the very moment he set eyes on you. Would it affect the alliance? Perhaps. Was a fuck worth that risk? That, was the question he did not have yet an answer to. “Why do you think that I want to lay with you?” Aethelwulf decided to follow this path, narrowing his eyes and trying to figure out your true intentions.

You chuckled as Athelstan translated those words, seeming entertained by what was going on. The unexpected question amused you, that was a sure thing.

“Oh, I am sorry, prince. If I was wrong to assume such thing, I will find someone else to fulfill my desires. Perhaps one of your men will like to take me” you turned around and as Athelstan translated your words almost simultaneously with your talking, when you started to walk away Aethelwulf had already understood all you had just said.

“Wait” he said quickly, and that made you turn around even though you did not know what it meant. It might have been the urgent tone of his voice, that made you stop on your tracks. With their eyes meeting again, he bit his lower lip for a second because of what he was about to do. He had found out the answer to the previous unanswered question. Yes, a fuck with you was worth the risk of dooming that alliance. “I do desire to lay with you. But I have a wife. Adultery is a sin”

Athelstan's voice rolled out of his tongue in norse again and as soon as he fell silent again, you took steps forward until your body was almost touching the prince's. From that close distance, you raised one of your hands and runned your fingers through the fabric of his shirt.

“You, Christians, always denying yourselves pleasure for the sake of boundaries” your hand went up and you softly touched his lips with your fingertips. Your eyes were darker with desire. “Your wife is not here, prince Aethelwulf. I am. As in the morning our paths will be split, I am sure your God could look away for just one night”

Aethelwulf breathed heavily against the fingers touching his mouth, the words Athelstan just said in english making him feel a shiver run down his spine. Could that be true? Could God really look away for one night? Well, he would probably find out soon.

“Athelstan, leave us” the prince said, getting your hand away from his mouth as he occupied himself with feeling the softness of your skin with his own fingertips.

“Yes, my Lord” the munk seemed more than happy to obey and turned around to do as he was told.

“First, please Athelstan, ask him if he needs his father's permission to fuck me” you said every word slowly, with small pauses. Through the whole process, you could feel the fierceness of the prince's eyes locked on your own lips.

“Leave us” Aethelwulf repeated in a growl after the words were translated. As soon as the priest got out and closed the door behind him, one of his hands grabbed your hair and he smashed your lips together, too hungry to wait.

You whimpered against his mouth, your own hands pulling at his short hair, even more firmly when his other hand circled your waist, clearly desperate to get rid of your clothes. You stumbled together to the bed, lips never stopped touching until he was on top of you above the matress and the sheets.

There, you did not need words to communicate. Your eyes, said everything that needed to be said. When later your bare skins touched and he entered your body, words were also not needed.

Moans, did not need translation.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #aethelwulf fanfic #aethelwulf imagine #aethelwulf x reader #aethelwulf #history vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings imagine #vikings #vikings one shot #one shot #prince Aethelwulf imagine #prince aethelwulf

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goldentailedmermaids · 6 years

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V I K I N G S W O M E N M E M E [1/3] princesses: Kwenthrith

“Raise your cups to the sole and only ruler of Mercia.”

#vikingsedit #vkedit #perioddramaedit #kwenthrithedit #vkkwenthrith #queen kwenthrith #princess kwenthrith #vikings #my edits #vikings women edit meme

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ivarthebadbitch · 3 years

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Strange things can happen

Chapter 5 summary: Ivar and Aldreda’s new agreement is put to the test.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 1860

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman @adhdnightmare (let me know if you’d like to be tagged)

CHAPTER 5: Your stupid bread god

Some weeks had passed since the wedding and Ragnar’s departure, and Aethelwulf had to admit that although the situation with his daughter was far from ideal, things had not gone disastrously so far. They had settled into something of a routine, with Ivar training daily with Aethelred, playing chess with Alfred, taking meals with the family, and occasionally getting hauled into Ecbert’s library to explain some obscure point about heathen ways. The question of religion was still an issue and there had been no further lessons as Father Wilfred had somewhat suspiciously pleaded illness, but Ivar’s English was quickly improving and he and Aldreda seemed to at least be polite to each other in public, if not exactly friendly.

Though Aethelwulf still didn’t much like the boy and the feeling was obviously mutual, a kind of equilibrium had been reached between them. It was therefore only a matter of time before Ecbert destroyed it.

“The Mercian border has been unsettled of late,” Ecbert noted idly over dinner one evening. “Some light trouble stirred up by an errant cousin of the late Princess Kwenthrith, nothing to be overly concerned about, but best to handle it before it becomes a problem for us. Aethelwulf, you will lead on this.”

He nodded. “Of course, Father.”

Ecbert set down his cup and motioned for the servant to refill it. “I have a mind you should take the boys with you. They should have the opportunity to see the border and learn from your example.”

Judith frowned even as Aethelred and Alfred’s eyes lit up. “They are rather young, aren’t they? It could be dangerous.”

To everyone’s surprise, Ivar spoke up. “My father took my brothers to Paris at their age,” he said. “Now they are strong warriors.”

Ecbert beamed at him. “You see?” he said to Judith. “It will be good training for them. Oh, yes—Ivar should accompany you as well.”

“What? You can’t be serious, Father.” Aethelwulf stared at him in horror. “Aethelred and Alfred, I certainly understand, but…”

“I want to go too,” Aldreda cut in.

He gaped at his daughter. “Absolutely not. As your father, I forbid it.”

“She can come,” Ivar said forcefully. “As her husband, I allow it.”

“You—you—” Aethelwulf sputtered, leaning across the table as Ivar glared back. He knew he needed to control himself, but after weeks of being forced to accept and accommodate this boy, he had finally reached his boiling point. “You don’t get to allow anything. If it were up to me, you would be back among your own kind, far away from civilized people, and far away from my daughter!”

“Enough!” Ecbert snapped, pushing back his chair and standing up. “I want everyone out except my son.”

Ivar looked ready to lunge across the table at Aethelwulf, but then he sat back and actually grinned at him. You little shit, Aethelwulf thought to himself as a pair of guards helped his son-in-law out of the room, trailing behind the others. Once the door was closed, he turned back to his father, who was running his finger around the edge of the cup and gearing up for a lecture that would no doubt begin with I am very disappointed in you, Aethelwulf.

“I am very disappointed in you, Aethelwulf,” Ecbert began. “I suppose I must make myself plain, since you still fail to understand my reasoning. A daughter-in-law is a blessing, for she brings land and wealth when she joins your household, but a son-in-law can become a rival and challenge your own sons. You believe my choice for Aldreda was made out of disrespect, but nothing could be further from the truth. I chose a son-in-law who poses no danger to you, whose family connections strengthen us beyond our own shores. My aim—as it has always been—is to protect all your children and their inheritances.”

“A daughter-in-law is a blessing,” Aethelwulf repeated flatly. “That has certainly been true for you.”

A man with any sense of shame would wince or look away, but Ecbert was not that kind of man. Instead he took another sip of wine and then set the cup down on the table with a thunk. “I tire of this, Aethelwulf,” he said abruptly. “Ivar is your son-in-law, whether you like him or not. If Aldreda can understand this then so can you.”

“Oh, I understand well enough what you have done.” He was practically shouting by now, gripping the edges of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “I have suffered this insult, just as I have suffered every insult of yours because you are my father and my king, and you expect me to thank you for it? You force Aldreda into this marriage without my permission, and now you want me to tow this boy and my daughter all over the countryside for the people to laugh at, and I am supposed to be...what? Grateful?”

Ecbert gazed at him coolly, entirely unmoved by the tirade. “I do not expect your gratitude, Aethelwulf. I do expect your obedience, always, just as you would expect obedience from your own children. So, yes, you will go to inspect the Mercian border, and you will take Alfred and Aethelred, and you will take Ivar too, not so that people will laugh but because he is your son-in-law and he should be with you to see it.”

“I will not play nursemaid to this boy.”

“Do you think that is what I am asking you to do?” Ecbert shook his head in amusement. “Bring a carriage. Bring extra servants. Figure it out. You are making this more difficult than it has to be.”

“And my daughter?” he said desperately. “Surely you will not permit this. It is far too dangerous for her.”

“Ah, well.” His father gave him a sympathetic look. “It is not an idea that would have occurred to me, but...the boy is her husband, after all, and if he allows it, then that is his prerogative. I am sorry to say that your authority as a father only extends so far.”

“Fine,” Aethelwulf snapped. “But rest assured, should any of my children be harmed because of this ill-advised adventure, it will be on your conscience, not mine.”

“I have every confidence in your ability to keep them safe,” Ecbert said blandly. With the lecture finished, he leaned back and gave Aethelwulf a satisfied smile that was oddly reminiscent of someone else. “You may go.”

“I think you’re enjoying this, Father.”

Ecbert chuckled. “Oh, I haven’t had this much entertainment in years.”

***

The carriage ride to Mercia was bumpy and uncomfortable, but Ivar had to admit that it was a much faster method of travel than crawling or getting carried by his father. He glanced over at Aldreda, seated across from him. She had pulled back the curtain and was watching the scenery go by, but dropped it when she noticed him looking at her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He shrugged. “This is what we agreed to. So I am holding up my end of the deal, that’s all. I don’t know why you wanted to go to Mercia, though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She raised the curtain again, toying a little with her necklace. She didn’t bother trying to make further conversation, which was fine with him.

For a little while, at least. Then he started getting bored. They had already been traveling for several hours with nothing to do, and there was something he had been meaning to ask about anyway. “So...your god is made of bread?”

She dropped the curtain and frowned. “What?”

“You eat him, right? Is that so you can take some of his power?”

“You mean...the Eucharist?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

She gave him a bemused smile. “During the Last Supper, Christ broke bread and shared wine with His disciples, saying: ‘This is my body, which is given for you’ and ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you’,” she explained. “Therefore, when the priest consecrates the bread and wine, it becomes the flesh and blood of Christ.”

“So your god is made of bread and you eat him,” Ivar concluded. “Ridiculous.”

Aldreda looked irritated. “Well, you don’t have to believe it,” she shot back. “Just like I don’t have to believe your silly tales of how your dead warriors go feast with Odin and then go out and kill each other again every night. That sounds so dull. Why would anybody want to go there after they die?”

He stared at her in outrage. “At least Valhalla is real, unlike your stupid bread god.”

“Oh, so now my god is stupid?” She flopped back in her seat and groaned. “I can’t believe my grandfather married me to a heathen. What did I do to deserve this?”

Ivar snapped, “Well, at least your grandfather didn’t take you to a strange country while promising some grand adventure, marry you off, and then leave!”

Aldreda looked taken aback by his outburst and fell silent. He suddenly had the urge to throw something, but there was nothing at hand, because he was in a stupid carriage headed to Mercia with his wife and her stupid family.

He had a wild thought for a moment of himself slipping away from the group after dark and somehow talking his way onto a ship bound for Kattegat. He would just have to crawl through the forests without getting lost or starving to death, scrape together enough gold to pay a captain who didn’t mind risking treason, and avoid either getting killed or caught and sent back to the palace in humiliation. If he made it home—and that was a big if—gods, his father would be furious. Abandoning the marriage would doom the trade agreement and risk war. He would have to come up with a good lie. He certainly wasn’t about to tell them the truth. But at least his mother would ensure that he would not be sent back to Wessex.

It was too far in the future to think about what he would tell people when he got to Kattegat, though. And as impatient as he was to get away from these people, he knew his odds of surviving the woods of Mercia on his own were very, very low. He would have to wait until after they returned to Ecbert’s palace in Wessex and prepare a better plan. He needed to play along with Aldreda and try not to make fun of her bread god.

“Sorry,” he mumbled somewhat grudgingly. “I shouldn’t make fun of your bread god.”

She gave him a suspicious look, but then she gave him a tiny nod of acknowledgment. “I’m sorry I said Valhalla was boring. But at least I didn’t eat a page from a prayer book.”

He wanted to offer up some devastating retort, but he couldn’t think of anything. After all, he had eaten that page. Evidently word had gotten around. So he said nothing and Aldreda went back to looking out the window. They didn’t speak again for the rest of the day.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #fic: strange things can happen

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janglejanglejane · 5 years

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#vikings #historyvikings #kwentrith #princess kwenthrith #amy bailey

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lisinfleur · 4 years

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My fate, my rules!

The request:

When you first saw the man standing inside that hall, he was nothing but a rag. Young, dirty, a prisoner being carried around by your father's men like a bag of potatoes or something similar. You could still remember how his face was softer, his body was thinner, and his hair could barely cover his forehead with a strange hairstyle that caused your brother to call him "Nordic Acorn" for days…

Well, you had to notice Aethelwulf's expression since your brother's eyes were almost popping out of his head as the acorn-boy he liked so much to mock as inoffensive, was now standing in front of him - taller than him, by the way… - with long braided hair, fierce blue eyes, and a thousand soldiers wanting to put your castle down to the ground for his desires, held back by nothing but his command.

"Ivar, the Boneless," your brother stated as if recognizing that boy from years ago. "The second to last son of Ragnar Lothbrok."

You rolled your eyes when Ivar frowned, naturally not understanding your brother's colocation: Aethelwulf was convinced Kwenthrith's son was one of the sons of Ragnar indeed.

"I think you don't know my family as well as you think you know, Ecberth's son… I'm the last son of my father, but surely not his last legacy in this world."

Even his voice changed from what you had in your memories. Ivar was a grown man now despite the lack of a beard that you could say was even charming in him. He became a beautiful man. But your feelings for that Viking weren't something new.

The two of you weren't something to come from those glares Aethelwulf already had noticed. Ivar was the owner of your heart since the time when you sneaked into the dungeons to know him in a cell and spend entire nights talking to him about the most variable subjects as your father was deciding his father's fate. He earned your heart with his ways, learning how to read the parchments you brought for him, teaching you words in his language your father's friend Athelstan didn't teach. Ivar was the first man that ever touched your lips with his, even thou there were metal bars in between the two of you.

You never really forgot how hard it was to let him go without goodbyes, watching as the chariot took him away leaving you with nothing but his promise.

"What will happen after you go away?"

"I'll come back for you."

Aethelwulf never dreamed about this. He never understood why you became more astute after "the heathen" - in his words - went away with his desires that Ivar's boat would sink and no one would ever find his remains. Your brother would only repeat incessantly that Ragnar's visit was a curse and even you were different after those men appeared in your father's door - words that the following events that ended up with your father's crown in your brother's head confirmed in the peasants and your brother's minds.

But the truth was that Ivar taught you. He changed you and stimulated your curiosity. Because of him, you sneaked to read the whole library, you learned, you studied and understood. And regardless of what Aethelwulf was planning for you, you had in your mind that Ivar would never forget you.

And you were right…

"I see you're not aware of Magnus…" your brother started and, without respect, Ivar simply cut his sentence, remembering you of the frisson of seeing a Norseman facing one of yours.

They were fearless. And it always made you melt.

"Kwenthrith's son wasn't my brother. And I'm not here to speak of the past."

Firm, like the tone you'd always imagined his god Odin should have to speak.

"Then what brings you here, Norseman?" Aethelwulf said.

And you held your breath. It was always funny to hear how your brother used to say words like "heathen" or "pagan" or even "Norseman" as if they were curses or mocking terms. Well, if they were, Ivar wasn't as bothered by them as your brother wanted him to feel.

"I've come to keep my word for I might break a bone but I can never break a promise."

Aethelwulf's face frowned but you smiled. Those weren't words to your brother but to your heart. And you couldn't avoid showing how happy you were to know he didn't forget.

"I don't remember any promises coming from you nor your people other than killing my lineage and stealing our lands," Aethelwulf's pride taunted.

But Ivar's eyes remained on yours. He knew you understood and you stood forward, surprising your brother with the smile you had on your lips for that man he would call a pagan.

You walked down the stairs and stood in front of Ivar, and for an instant, nothing seemed to exist but those two sapphires clear like the sky looking at you with the same tenderness you remember seeing into them years ago. He was pretty taller than you now - standing, Ivar was imposing and huge, like any other Norseman you ever see. - and it was good to look up to see his face now: you could remember how much he hated people had to look down to speak to him and the many times you sat on the floor just to lower yourself to his level so the two of you would look at each other as what you were: equals.

Now, he was bigger, stronger, more beautiful. And yet he was looking at you from upon your head, his eyes were still the same. Your pretty boy was grown, but still yours such as you were a grown woman now, but still his were your heart and your soul.

"May I ask what, in the name of God, is happening here?" your brother's voice cut the scene and took your sapphires from you, to his face.

Ivar's glare was fierce and strong when looking at your (noisy) brother who was really looking bothered in his throne.

"You come into my kingdom, take lands that aren't yours, kill my men and invade my territory, stand into my hall with promises I don't recognize and now this... What is this that you have such intimacy with my sister?"

You looked back at Aethelwulf, sighing.

"When our father took him and Ragnar as his visitors..."

"Prisoners," Aethewulf corrected you, not giving you space to speak, causing Ivar to crisp his lips, annoyed.

But you only sighed again. You knew your brother, but somehow, you also knew it was soon to be over, so why bother yourself with his behavior?

"When our father took him and Ragnar as his prisoners," you repeated, correcting your word just to have Aethewulf's silence, "I took care of Ivar's cell for a while and he made me a promise when he went away."

"What kind of promises could a Norseman do to you, Y/N?" he cut you again and this time, Ivar's head moved that snaky way you knew were a clear sign he was about to get himself fed up of your brother's behavior.

"He said..."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Aethelwulf cut you once again and this time you sighed annoyed and Ivar frowned looking at him.

His ways towards you were really bothering the Norse Commander but it wasn't enough for Aethelwulf to stop.

"We have no time for these minimalisms when something bigger demands our attention," he said, standing. "I hope you came intending to negotiate the withdrawal of your army from my lands, Norseman."

"Kinda," Ivar answered, surprising Aethelwulf that from the top of his arrogance wasn't waiting for an attempt of negotiation coming from the enemies. "I think the lands I have are quite good and enough for my people to establish a settlement and since I'm about to become a king, I think I'll need a proper queen to reign beside me over my new lands..."

Despite the arrogance and intentional taunt in his tone, Ivar's words surprised you.

His queen?

Was he speaking of marrying you?

You never thought he would take it so far and your heart hushed into your chest with the mere idea of becoming his wife.

Crowns were never important to you, but the thought of being by his side was delightful, despite your brother's disbelief stamped in his face.

"So," Ivar continued, "My proposal is quite simple: you won't stand in my way as I take my precious Y/N to be my wife and I'll cease the attacks and settle in my new lands with my new wife. We can co-exist without problems and I may even be your ally in case you need any military support, which seems to be something pretty valuable for someone with men like yours."

A clear mock on the fact that Aethelwulf's army was losing terrain for Ivar's men like rats fleeing from a bunch of cats.

"What you're proposing is absurd!" Aethelwulf protested "I would never deliver my sister in the hands of a man I don't trust!"

Lies.

Your brother was offering your hand like a prize to any Christian king that was up to get his lands free from the threat the Norseman represented to your people. And Ivar's men were so strong and harsh that not even the promise of a future crown was enough to bring suitors to his proposal.

Yet, Ivar giggled at your brother's almost hysterical reaction.

"In this case, I see no option but invade your town, take the crown from your head, and marry my Y/N unfortunately without the blessing from my brother in law."

The sound of those words was enough to have all his men unsheathing swords, causing a huge tension to install itself into that Hall when your brother's men also did the same in what would be the prelude of war to happen in your house.

The most sensate thing to be done would be to cede: Aethelwulf knew he should accept Ivar's request and grant his people's safety by marrying you to him - it would be something to warrant the end of the Norsemen's threat over his kingdom once and for all and the price was low taking the fact that the lands Ivar's men had invaded were unused and idle since your father's time as king. However, your brother was no king...

Aethelwulf was a spoiled brat with a crown in his head and an ego that would never admit taking the same ways your father once took. For him, to negotiate with the heathens was to lower himself from God's grace somehow he thought was over him and you knew he would never accept what was obviously the best option to your people.

Even then, you tried to guide him in the right direction.

"It's a good proposal, brother. A low price for something we're longing for..."

"That's ridiculous! You're my sister! A Christian! A soon to be queen! I would never give you to these pagans as a sacrifice and a plead for mercy we don't need!" Aethelwulf cut you for the last time before Ivar was finally full of his bullshit.

He stood, chest stuffed, ready to speak in your favor, but, for his surprise, it wasn't his voice that echoed at the Hall, but yours, finally taking the reins of your own life.

"What's ridiculous is your stupid ego speaking louder than your mind, Aethelwulf!" you started, hearing his scoff as you proceeded, ignoring his outraged expression, "You're a king, my brother, no longer a spoiled child that can only hit your feet on the ground for what you want! You have dozens of people relying on you to protect them, to keep them safe, to get rid of the threats around them! What you're doing is not the right posture for a king! Even our father knew when it was time to cede and accept king Ragnar had won and if he wasn't stupid like you, maybe we had ended the Norsemen's thread earlier with that deal! You, men, seem to have your balls thinking instead of your head sometimes! We could have his people as our allies and once again this chance is presenting itself for you as once it did to our father!"

"And I'll take it as our father did and spit on these demons' faces! I have no intentions to..."

"Then it is my duty to decide for you, once you show you're not in the plenty of your mental faculties," it was your time to cut him and watch as the steam started to come up from his head.

You knew Aethelwulf never admitted your voice sounding louder than his. But this time, you wouldn't accept his stupidity.

"You have no say in this!" he insisted, but you stood for your ground, looking at him with strong eyes that weren't able to notice the amused and aroused expression in Ivar's face by your side.

Your Norseman was pretty taken by your strong behavior, thinking you had grown even better than his imagination allowed him to draw in his mind.

"Before speaking about lands and people, we're talking about my life, brother! I am the one who will marry for this alliance, I'm the one who will become his queen, and I decided long ago that if this ever happened; if Ivar ever came back for me; I would be his. It won't be you to prevent me from ruling my own life, not when you can barely rule your own men, my king."

Ivar's laugh echoed through your Hall along with the sound of his hands clapping. He never thought you could be so strong and whatever changed in your personality was really attractive for him, even more than what you were before.

His laughs were enough to infuriate Aethelwulf and he threatened to advance towards you, causing Ivar's smile to close immediately and his hand to raise a dagger that landed in your brother's neck as soon as his steps were close enough to you for him to almost touch your neck.

Aethelwulf grunted, angrily. Yet, you stood in front of him without fear.

"Our father died because of these pagans, Y/N and he trusted me to care for you after his death. I won't allow..."

"You won't allow or disallow me anything, brother," you cut him one more time causing him to clench his jaw, furious. "I've learned enough along the years to know I'm more than just a property for you to trade for your interests. I'm a free woman and the owner of my destiny and whether you want it or not, I'm leaving with Ivar today. You can take this chance and sign the papers to have my future husband as your ally or I can sit and wait as he comes to take this stupid crown from your hands and land them in the hands of someone that will surely take care of our people better than you do."

"Your hands sound perfect for me, my queen," Ivar said, looking at your brother's face.

Aethelwulf growled in fury. He knew he was defeated. With your support, Ivar would soon be accepted as King in his place, once the people of Wessex had you in their higher place of admiration and love. You would conduct them easily and his memory would be nothing but dust in a few years...

By letting you go, he could maybe take the chance to get some time, gather some support, maybe go against your husband later, despite knowing it would be hard to convince his people to betray the Norsemen one more time when the first time had such disastrous consequences. Yet, it was the best option in his mind.

He had no other choice.

"You leave with your filthy heathens away from my hall, Y/N! And don't you dare to claim our father's blood to your unacceptable progeny with this demon you'll call your husband! You abandon all your rights to Wessex's crown by deciding to get yourself married to this sinful man under his false gods!" he vociferated, angrily.

But you just sighed, looking at him.

"Don't worry, my brother. I have no intention to steal what you have that's most precious for you. Keep your metal crown, Aethelwulf. Freedom sounds better for me," you said, touching Ivar's hand and feeling as he lowered his dagger releasing your brother from the tension of imminent death.

With a single wave of his hand, Ivar's men sheathed their swords and the tension around started to dissolve slowly, despite your brother's crescent fury.

"I think there is nothing to be solved in here anymore, right?" Ivar mocked, looking at your brother. "You have my word as long as your men stay away from my lands, no new attack will be done and if you need any help, do not hesitate on sending me a crow... Brother."

That smile on the corner of Ivar's lips was taking your brother out of his sanity and you knew that, but Aethelwulf straightened himself, looking at Ivar with that attempt to pretend he was still upon the situation.

"If something ever happens to my sister..." he started trying that stupid theatre of a protective brother you knew he never was.

"Don't worry. I'm sure I'll be safer beside Ivar than I ever was into this castle," you said, looking into your brother's eyes. "And don't mind about coming to my marriage, brother. As you said, it will be under my husband's gods and we both know you must keep clean your image of a good Christian king so let us pretend you politely refused to take part in a heathen ritual and keep things among us restrict to the papers I intend one of our messengers to come and pick up tomorrow," you stated.

Getting one more amused smile from your soon to be husband.

"Our father would be disappointed with you, Y/N, but it is not like you didn't know that, right?" the last movement: an emotional shot that passed far from hitting your heart.

"Our father knew me as nothing but a coin to be exchanged, brother," you said, looking at Aethelwulf untouched by his words, "Let us think he would be proud that you knew how to exchange this coin for a good alliance instead of wasting it with that Southern King you thought would do more than pee on his pants if he was here when Ivar crossed those doors."

The more you spoke, the more Aethelwulf's anger was growing into him. But you had a life to enjoy outside those walls and now, with the Norsemen opening the castle doors, you wouldn't waste your time with your brother's tantrums.

"Take care of yourself, brother," you said over your shoulder.

Feeling when Ivar's hand embraced your waist, conducting you towards the doors in the hallway that his men opened for the two of you to pass.

You could still hear Aethelwulf breaking half of the hall's vases and decorations in an outburst of anger after you crossed the doors with your soon-to-be husband beside you.

But you were too happy with yourself to really pay any attention to him anymore.

With Ivar smiling by your side and conducting the horse, you stood in his chariot, looking forward to seeing how pleasurable it would be to be the owner of yourself.

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