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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

#geralt of rivia #geralt #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt x reader #harald halfdansson #harald x reader #dark harald #dark!harald #harald finehair #vikings #the witcher #bookstore au #au #series #drabble

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disasterofastory · 10 months

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Son of King Harald (Harald x Reader)

Son of King Harald Harald x Reader Warnings: after giving birth

Summary: Harald takes care of you.

The conversation between the midwife and your husband barely reaches your ears. Their voices seem far away and muffled even though you are sure they are standing just a few meters away from you. You are too tired to turn your head to their way, opening your eyes would be a lost battle. All of your remaining strength is focused on your arms to keep the small bundle of joy against your chest. "They are both healthy, my King," the midwife says with deep satisfaction in her voice. "Your son is strong, and your wife is a true warrior." "Thank you for all of your help," Harald replies. "You can go and rest now. I will take over from here." "Are you sure?" The woman asks, you can feel her gaze on you. "Yes," your husband says. "If I need help, I will call for you." "As you wish, my King."

Silence follows the quiet thud of the door when the midwife leaves. Harald doesn't dare to move for long seconds. His eyes swipe over your blanket and fur-covered body. A thin layer of sweat shines on your skin, your hair is a mess of curls and knots, and circles darken under your eyes. And you are beautiful. Of course, for him, you are always beautiful. It doesn't matter if you are in your battle gear, bathed in blood, or the finest dresses he bought. But this moment is different. He feels it in his chest. You look like a warrior, a wife, a woman, and a mother at the same time. Even though your body is weak and tired now, fierceness and strength radiate from you.

"Harald?" You break the silence. Your arm tightens around your son. Your voice is quiet and hoarse. "I'm here, love," Harald replies immediately. When you hear his heavy steps getting closer, you force your eyes to open. A trembling smile pulls on your lips when your gazes meet. "Hey," you whisper. His fingers brush the sweaty curls out of your forehead to lean down and kiss you there. "Hey." His attention turns to the blanket in your arms. You watch his face the whole time. The boy is really big and strong. His delicate skin is still red from crying and screaming. "He has so much hair," Harald states, letting out a shaky laugh. "And he has big lungs, my love," you add. "We will have long nights, I'm afraid." "Yeah," he hums, still staring at the newborn. "I think the whole village heard him." "He is so beautiful," you sigh, caressing his chubby cheek with the back of your finger. His small lips open as he continues to sleep. "And how are you, my wife?" Harald asks, turning his eyes away from your child to you. His warm palm smooths up and down on your arm. "Do you need something?" "A bath?" You joke, knowing you don't even have the strength to stand up and your heart wouldn't bear to be away from your son. "And water. And some sleep." Harald doesn't react for a few seconds. His dark eyes swipe over the room, trying to find a solution for your every wish.

If his Queen wants things after giving birth to their first child, she will get them.

"What are you doing?" You ask your husband, watching him coming back to the side of your bed with a bowl of water and a clean rag in his hands. "I'm taking care of you, my wife," he says. "My Queen, the mother of my son."

A relieved sigh leaves your lips when the wet rag touches your still-heated skin. Harald's movements are soft and slow as he cleans you up as best as he can. "Better?" He smiles at your expression. "You have no idea," you reply, closing your eyes again as the rag brush over your forehead. A few drops of water run down your cheek and disappear into the collar of your tunic.

"I will tell the servants to bring more water and food for you," Harald says, already standing up, but your hand on his arm stops him. "Stay," you tell him. "Just stay for a bit longer." "Whatever you want, my love," he replies, holding up your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. "I love you, Harald." "And I love you, my wife."

You don't want this moment to ever stop. You feel safe and content in the small bubble of your family.

#harald imagine #harald finehair x reader #harald finehair imagine #harald x reader #vikings imagine #vikings x reader

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phenomenal1500 · 4 months

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~His Wild Bull~

Masterlist A/N: This was requested by DEVILHORNS on Wattpad. I hope you love it! ♥️ Let me know if anyone enjoys this OC and want a fan fiction out of this. I also will be taking a break from the smut for now. I'm so sorry for the once who requested anything with smut over the past few months. I won't be writing them anymore. I found out they take me so much time and the joy in writing them is long gone, it's way too frustrating. I perhaps will eventually take smut requests again, but for now the only smut that will come out is from myself if I ever feel like it. Summary: Harald is surprised by his wife taking control. Timeline: Harald as the new king of Norway. Pairing: Harald Sigurdsson x Fem!OC Warning: Detailed smut, dick riding, dom/sub.

From a distance Harald let his eyes wander off to the gorgeous woman found on the other side of the feasthall, his gorgeous woman. Thyra was the only daughter of King Canute. A strong blue eyed, black haired woman born and raised to be a great queen to her people someday.

The moment he learned about her existence and her still unwedded status, he proposed to fill in the roll of husband and king.... but only once they build a connection to know what they were getting into of course.

He didn't want to instantly overwhelm her with the thought of marriage and he did have the need to get to know her first as well. However, after their first evening spend together watching the stars reflect into the ocean, he knew he was falling in love already and she had to admit she was too.

"Harald?" Thyra had slowly walked his way after her conversation ended and took his hand in hers.

"Yes?" He smiled sweetly and took her other hand too, noticing she was looking tired.

"Could we perhaps go to our room?" She rubbed her eyes with her free hand after she let go of one of his, yawning a bit too.

"Tired, my love?" He smiled and sneaked his arm around her waist.

"Yes." She nodded and he smiled.

"Come on then, my queen." He laid his hand on the small of her back and led her to their newly shared bedroom.

"Thank you, Harald." She smiled and followed sleepily, but something he didn't know yet was that it was all part of an act.

If he had been paying a little closer attention to her, she knew he would've probably figured out what she truly wanted within one look, but she also knew that if there was something involving her he would never question it and make sure she was comfortable at any cost. That's why she took advantage of that opportunity.

"You want me to stay with you while you rest?"

"Yes, I would love that." She smiled and casually dropped her fur cloak and her dress from her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet as she looked up at him. "That would make me feel at ease."

He nodded, but didn't meet her gaze. He was too busy taking her beautiful bare body in, but she unfortunately didn't give her husband much time to admire her. She turned around within a few seconds and acted like she was busy with the sheets. She needed to hold her position, keep her sneaky lie around for a little while longer as she very slowly moved onto the bed.

She tried to be so so innocent about everything, but he already knew what she wanted the moment she didn't let him see her face anymore.

"There's something else you need from me first, don't you~?" He growled lowly and took a step closer. "You aren't tired~."

"I was tired of the feast, but not too tired to have a long night with just my husband~." She giggled a little and felt his strong arms wrap around her slender waist, his chest pressed firmly against her back now.

"Why didn't you tell me before, my queen? I'm happy to take care of her when she needs me." He confessed and pulled her from their bed, kissing her neck gently as his hands massaged her hips soothingly.

"Even so- that's not what she currently needs from you~." She turned around in his embrace and all of a sudden pushed him onto the now already messy bed. "She wants to take care of you this time."

"Me?" He smirked, caught by surprise when before he knew it his back hit the soft bed beneath him.

"Yes. You." She rubbed his thigh close to his cock and unlaced his pants with her other hand. "So lay back and let me, my king. I'm certain you won't regret it." She pushed up his shirt as well.

Harald nodded with a wide grin, but first helped her strip him from his armor before he obediently laid back down against the headboard and watched her elegantly straddle him.

"You're so gorgeous. You're everything I could ever wish for." His hands instantly went back to her sides to caress her and she bend down to connect her lips with his, grinding her hips against his with lust. She needed him to know she wasn't playing around so the kiss wasn't as soft or gentle as usual. Instead, it was filled with lust and dominance and she adored it how quickly he switched to giving her full control.

She loved being nasty with him for once, to show him he didn't always have to be gentle with her and that she too had a wild side he could admire. It surely wasn't as if he didn't enjoy her like that either. He was taken back by her sudden boost of confidence, yes, but he honestly couldn't wait for more....

His cock was already rock hard and throbbing, the control his woman showed him freeing a glimpse of desperation in his behaviour.

He needed to feel her.

All of her.

But he really, really tried to hold back. She was in charge, not him, and he wanted to give her the opportunity to fully have that control she urged for.

His loving eyes looked up when he let his fingers dance across the soft skin of her thighs, meeting Thyra's ice blue eyes, and he could see a small smirk appear from her lips when she noticed his thick cock twitching.

She knew he couldn't wait much longer and honestly neither could she.

Within one quick motion she instantly mounted him, a long moan escaping from her mouth while she felt herself stretch around him. "He fills me up so well~." Thyra added softly, but tried to control herself and grind her hips right away once again.

She couldn't let the pleasure get ahold of her yet, not with the ideas she had in mind for them.

Taking every inch of him the best she could, a hot and pleasurable flame washed over her as she rode him at a steady fast pace. A rough pace she always wished to ride him in.

"Oh gods~ my love~." Harald growled lowly and his hips thrusted deeper inside of her everytime she rocked her hips.

"I~ I know~." She moaned in response, too busy making them feel good to form full sentences anymore. His cock just simply made her feel so heavenly and him fully pressing inside with each thrust specially timed to match her riding was way too pleasureable. His thrusts truly created a perfect harmony between the two lovers and the time of soft dirty talking slowly came to a full stop. They weren't capable of doing so anymore and whenever they tried to whisper sweet or nasty nothings in each other's ears all their words came out as sloppy moans and whines.

Thyra let her hands run over Harald's sweaty chest and he groaned, sitting up more to kiss the top of her breasts and leave some bite marks to show off she was forever his.

"Mmm~ I love you, Harald." She giggled softly at his actions and suddenly moaned his name louder again when he shoved his cock even further inside of her to hit that deep spot, making her walls squeeze him as she came hard.

She was so tight and warm, so inviting.

The handsome man growled and followed her quickly by the tightness of her walls wrapping around him, holding her down on him as he felt the heat of his release fill her. "I love you too, ketta~." He whispered and very gently put a stroke of hair behind her ear, watching her as she tried to relax while the enchanted feeling in her abdomen was still lingering around. "You're doing okay?''

"Perfectly okay." She smiled and let her body rest against his, embracing his neck as she rested her face in the crook of his neck, his hands wrapping around her lower back to hold her too.

"My wild bull." He smiled, kissing her shoulder.

#smut #vikings #harald sigurdsson #vikings valhalla #harald x reader #harald smut #harald hardrada #smut harald

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author-morgan · 9 months

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i see your requests are open!! can you do something sweet with Harald? (and Halfdan if you’re comfortable with polyamory!)

Of courseeeee. Here is some Harald fluff (with a pinch of bittersweetness and angst). I was going to have this be polyamorous (bc those two come as a pair more often than naught in my fics lbr lol), but once I got started it just turned into something more Harald-centric. Hope you don't mind! (I went a little overboard for him again) Harald Finehair x fem!Reader

HALFDAN THE BLACK is the first to enter Tamdrup’s great hall upon returning from a successful raiding season. The doors swing open wide, and those gathered for the tribunal part, making way for the victorious. Rising from the seat of power, you go to him with open arms, smiling. “I see you brought my husband back,” you muse, watching Harald enter the hall at last, surrounded by a score of rowdy warriors and overjoyed denizens—rightfully so, they have returned with riches and have lost fewer than a dozen warriors during the raids.

“I fear what you would do if I didn’t,” Halfdan laughs, tossing down a heavy coin purse on the table before taking you into his arms.

“It is always good to see you again,” you smile, kissing your marriage-brother’s cheek. He is inclined to agree. After long days at sea and many weeks away, it is good to be greeted by a fair and familiar face such as yours. Halfdan clasps your shoulder as he steps around you, pouring himself a cup of mead—leaving you to his brother. “Harald,” you greet, and the hall falls silent as he approaches you.

His breath catches as he beholds you, standing before him regal as ever with a gifted silver circlet resting upon your brow. His wife. His queen. His heart. It is as though the rest of the world falls away when he stops before you, rough hands cradling your face with the gentlest of touches. “By all the gods” —he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks— “you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

Harald’s kiss is slow and soft—save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw—and speaks of the months of longing to return to your loving arms. You kiss him like you’ve done a thousand times before, falling into the rhythm as though you never parted. Your fingers comb through his beard as you part, foreheads resting together, but then your smile widens as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. “I’ve missed you,” you breathe. But now he’ll be yours again until the next raiding season comes.

THE WHEEL OF time does not slow, and the harvest season fades into winter and then to the first buds of spring. Nigh all the Vestfold gathered in Tamdrup tonight for the feast to celebrate sowing the first seeds of the new crop and seasoning the turned soil with sacred blood. But that is not the only reason the jarls and fighting men have come all this way. In the coming weeks, Harald, Halfdan, and anyone else willing to sail will make their way to Frankia to raid Paris with Ragnar Lothbrok. Festivities last long into the night, but Harald comes to you soon after you take leave.

He draws lines over the length of your spine as you lay with him, head pillowed on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heat, bare legs entwined, but then you twist in his arms and lean up to kiss him—featherlight and sweet as the mead still on his breath—fingertips following the blue-black scrollwork of his tattoos. Then he tilts his head back, letting you trace the curving lines on his neck and down to the ones on his chest—only your touch could ever make him tremble.

“Paris?” You repeat, following one of the silver scars on his ribs with your fingertips. He’s spoken of the city to the south and of Ragnar Lothbrok before, but with the night’s feast, it became official. Come the spring, he would prepare his ships and set sail to join the farmer-turned-king on his second venture to Frankia.

“Yes,” Harald says, his voice a low rasp. He sees it in your eyes, a flicker of hope that maybe this time you will sail with him and his brother—that you will be able to visit the distant lands so many speak of—but now is not the time for you to venture into the unknown. Your life is not something he can risk so easily and carelessly. Harald curls his hand around yours, then kisses the center of your palm and holds your hand close to his chest. “I need you here, my heart,” he tells you, but you already know that.

“I’ll plan a feast and a sacrifice before you and Halfdan depart,” you tell him—it is what any good queen and wife would do to see her husband and people return safe and with victory. And then he takes your lips and your breath, holding you close. You sigh into his mouth, letting his tongue brush yours, fingers slipping back into his unbound hair. His kiss is reverent, and you cannot help but miss the cracked softness of his lips against yours when he parts, but it is only so he can hold you in his arms.

TEN DAYS AFTER Harald Finehair first sets sail to Kattegat, his brother and the remainder of the fleet are ready to follow. The last of the barrels and crates are being rolled and loaded into the longships when you arrive on the docks to bid everyone farewell and good fortune on their journeys. Six hundred men and shieldmaidens from the Vestfold have gathered over the last two moons, all to leave on this day to join Ragnar Lothbrok in his endeavors—but Tamdrup will feel empty without their presence. Though, there is already a newfound hollowness in the wake of Harald’s departure.

You find Halfdan amongst the chaos, checking the yellow-red shields secured on the side of one of the ships. “Halfdan,” you call, and he turns on heel to face you with a half-bow—nigh teasing in nature, but you are, after all, his queen. Before he can stand upright, you reach out and rest your hands on his cheeks, and he bends a little farther, accepting the kiss you bestow upon his brow. “Be safe,” you tell him, hands moving to clasp his. “Look after your brother.”

Halfdan squeezes your hands. “You know I will,” he assures you. That is something you’ll never have to worry about—the bonds of blood and brotherhood run deep. You nod, and he steps back down into the longship. At your hest, they will set sail for glory and, if the gods deem it so, Valhalla.

One of your attendants hastens to the dock, stepping forward to present the gift commissioned from the blacksmith and jeweler—it's meant to be a surprise in celebration of another year of marriage, but alas, such care and detail took longer than expected. It’s a necklace of bronze and silver with a pendant shaped into the likeness of Mjölnir clasped in the mouths of two silver dragonheads on a chain of alternating links. “It was not finished before Harald left,” you explain, placing the necklace in Halfdan’s palm. “Give it to him, please.” Halfdan nods. “And all my love.”

RESOUNDING HORNS ANNOUNCE the return of Harald Finehair’s fleet in the dark hours of the evening. You rise from bed and make haste to the docks—handmaids following close behind with slippers and a cloak, but decorum is the least of your concerns. So few have returned, you think, counting the dwindling number of ships gathered compared to how many set off. The first wave departs one of the docked ships, and there is no air of triumph in those who press past you—eager to return to home and hearth and for solid ground beneath their feet. “Harald!” You call as he steps from the longship and onto the dock.

But he does not embrace you as he normally would after such a long voyage, and the spark in his stormy blue eyes is faded. It is only when you see who the men are carrying off the ship on a crude stretcher do you understand the cause of your husband’s sullen mood. “Halfdan,” you breathe, looking between him and Harald. You step to your marriage-brother and lift the pelt of fur covering his torso, grimacing—the wound at his shoulder is a festered, blackish mess, and the sweat on his brow in the first chill of winter speaks of the fever that’s set in during the return voyage.

You turn to one of your handmaids. “Call on Mjöll,” you instruct, “quickly.” The years have seen you clean and bind both Harald and Halfdan’s wounds, but this is far beyond your skill, and an herbalist will be needed to call Halfdan back from the cusp of the next life. The girl nods and sets off to the healer’s hut. Looking back at the stretcher-bearers, you point up the way to the great hall. “Take him to the great hall.” In such a state, Halfdan will need several pairs of watchful eyes.

Dark shadows cast from torchlight and iron braziers shroud Harald’s expression—he does not understand how it is you can stand with so much equanimity when faced with such loss. Harald steps to you, and his shoulders fall, then wordless, he slumps into your arms, resting his forehead on your shoulder—another weight you must bear—hands twisting into the fabric of your pale linen shift. You smooth your hand over his back, following the length of his braid-bound hair. “I thank the gods you have returned to me, my love,” you breathe, unwilling to let him part just yet.

Mjöll works to prepare a cataplasm of moss and herbs into the hours of the night, and you kneel at the prepared pallet of fur and pillows, placing a cool, damp rag upon Halfdan’s brow. There is little else you can do for your marriage brother besides trust the herbalist’s remedies, pray to the gods, and hope they are merciful. Mjöll nods for you to leave and tend to your husband. She and her apprentice will care for Halfdan.

He is pacing the length of the foot of the bed when you enter your shared chambers—hands flexing into fists at his side. You step into Harald’s path, hands going to the ties and buckles of his leathern armor. “If the High One truly sought Halfdan’s company,” you tell him, setting aside his vambraces before turning back, “he would already be feasting in the Halls of the Slain.”

To Harald, it is poor consolation but consolation all the same. And deep down, he knows you are right. Shrugging off his worn and stained tunic, he goes to the washbasin and splashes water on his face and chest, scrubbing away a mix of sweat and salt spray, and blood too. Harald returns to sit at your side on the bed—he stares ahead at the flickering flames of tallow candles. “What happened?” You finally dare ask.

“The magic of Ragnar Lothbrok failed,” he tells you. The lingering taste of defeat is bitter on his tongue—the gods had forsaken them on that river, had forsaken Ragnar. As it happened to be, he was just like any other man. “We were humiliated and pushed out of Frankia with nothing to show for it.” He does not remember the last time he returned to Tamdrup, to you, with nothing to show for his travels. It will take time for the Vestfold to recover from such a defeat.

You touch his cheek, fingers combing through his unkempt beard, drawing his gaze to you. “You live, as does your brother.” The rancor in his expression falters, his jaw unclenching, and he leans into you—his nose just barely bumping against yours. Yes, he and Halfdan escaped with their lives. That is more than can be said for many who embarked on the journey to Paris. Ragnar Lothbrok may have lost the favor of the gods, but they still smiled upon Harald and his brother. “That is enough for me,” you say, softly. He kisses you then, and you meld against him with a sigh and a slight smile that he can feel on your lips.

HE SITS ON his throne—slouched to the side and staring into the abyss, twisting his shark-tooth crown in his hands. Your king has returned, yet still, it is only you shouldering the weight of the kingdom. You stop at the dais and extend your hand toward him. “Walk with me.” It is not a request. Harald rises and follows.

The path through the forest is well-worn, both into the Earth and memory. It carves a winding route through the forest and up bare rock to a promontory overlooking Tamdrup and the mouth of the fjord—a place you frequent to look for sails on the horizon when the men are away, a place where Harald promised he would marry you one day what now feels like a lifetime ago.

But the morning fog has yet to lift from the land, just as the fog of bitterness in the aftermath of what happened in Paris has yet to lift from your husband and king. There has been no feast to honor the memory of those lost since his return several days ago and no promise or mention of what comes next for the Vestfold. It is as though he is lost in despair, mourning his brother already despite the day-by-day recovery—just yesterday, Halfdan’s fever broke.

You sit atop one of the boulders there on the promontory. There’s space enough for him to join you, but, for a moment, he lingers and stares. In the morning the light and mist, you seem like one of the winged women—ethereal. A sight that makes his heart twist and ache given the dark thoughts and mood which have taken hold of him since returning to Tamdrup.

Harald sits next to you and hangs his head, letting his hand rest on your thigh—a gentle weight and warmth. “I fear I have not been a good husband,” he confesses. It is never an easy thing for a prideful man to admit weakness and accept his faults, less so for a king. But the failed siege, his brother’s injury, and the long months spent away from you, from home, have been a heavy weight on his heart.

It does not feel right, leaving you time and time again, each longer than the last, to rule over his lands and care for his people—duties which are his. But you rule so fairly, and his people love you for it. “I have left you too often,” he breathes, a new softness and the tremble of guilt in his voice. “And I have left you to carry a burden meant to be shouldered by two backs” —his hand runs across your shoulders, down your spine— “not one.”

You never expected being wife to a king—being a queen—would be easy. Least of all, the wife of an ambitious man with dreams of uniting Norway under a single crown. Harald Finehair is vikingr. To deny him that would be to deny his true self, and even on the loneliest and coldest of nights, you could and would never ask him to be anything other than who he is—the man you love.

“I knew what was expected of me” —you card your fingers through his beard, the first tinges of silver beginning to appear, and he can find nothing but underserved doting affection in your soft gaze— “of you, when we married.” Harald covers your hand with his own, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your palm as his hand curls around yours, a sigh on his lips. “And I happily said yes, remember?”

He remembers the day you married well—the crown of spring wildflowers you wore, the blood-tinged kiss after exchanging rings, the bridal race with Halfdan and your cousins tripping over one another to get to the mead hall first. It is still the happiest day of his life—tied with every other day the gods let him wake up beside you.

Shifting, you lean your forehead against his and gently slip your hand free from his. “You will always have my love and support, wherever you may be.” Harald closes his eyes and curls his hand around the back of your neck, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear. And you press your hand against the center of his chest—feeling the outline of the Mjölnir necklace under your palm. “And I will be here or at your side,” you tell him, a soft whisper dancing over his lips, “wherever you need me to be.” And now he’s certain—you are too good to him.

[Harald-Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @hereforreadandwrite / @moonlightsspirit / @morganamayne / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenyalo / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Murder Bro taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form! if I missed you, I am sorry! but make sure to mention it in the replies or fill out the linked Google Form!

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alicedopey · 9 days

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Random thought: Harald pulling you close on a cold morning, asking if you're willing to spend the day keeping each other warm under the covers. - Zombie

In Bed with the King

(gif credits to its creator)

Fandom: Vikings Pairing: Harald x (Wife) Reader Genre: Smut(-ish) Words: 614 (Drabble) Warning(s): It's a little bit smutty people so don't like it, don't read it. A/N: I wanted fluff but Harald would not cooperate so it turned naughtier than I thought. Hope you will like it @thezombieprostitute

Your eyes fluttered open as the soft hues of the morning sun lightened the royal chamber. The snowstorm that has started yesterday evening was apparently done. It was still very cold though, you thought as you slid out an arm to rub the sleep from your eyes. A faint shiver ran through your body and you quickly put your limb back under the furs, meeting the hand of your husband resting possessively on your middle. You smiled and tenderly stroked his skin, enjoying the contrast between the two of you. He grumbled but pulled you closer and kissed your neck. The tickle of his beard made you giggle and you tried to get away from him.

“Stay still, woman. Let me enjoy my morning kisses”. His lips followed a path down your neck and along your shoulder, sending shivers of pleasure through your whole body. His hand slowly glided along your upper body and stopped on your breast before kneading it.

“Harald, we have to stop”. You whispered though you did nothing to stop him and your body even started oscillating against his.

“Why is that, my Queen?” Harald asked between kisses, never ceasing his sweet torture. His hand left your breast to travel down your body and you found the strength to stop him just as he was about to reach your sex.

“Because, my King.” You inhaled deeply, fighting your own lust. “We have some duties to attend.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“No, we don’t.” He intertwined your fingers and kissed your shoulder again. “In fact, we are going to spend the day under those furs and keep each other warm.”

“Must I remind you there was a snowstorm yesterday and that our people…”

He cut you off with one of his hoarse and seductive chuckles. “Who do you take me for, woman? I’m not a heavy sleeper like you. I have been up since dawn with several of my men.”

You let out a mock outraged scoff and managed to turn around so that you were facing him. “Really? An old man like you?”

Harald laughed heartily. He did not take any offense on this recurring banter between the two of you, especially because he only was a few years older than you. “You did not think I was an old man last night”. He pulled you close and rubbed his nose against yours. “You even praised my stamina, if I remember correctly.”

“I admit you are insatiable.”

“Only with you, my Queen. Only with you.” He kissed your nose tenderly. “As I was saying, my men and I checked the surroundings as much as we could. Most of us are stuck inside because of the snow. There is nothing we can do for the moment but keep each other warm. What do you say, dear Queen of mine? Shouldn’t we take advantage of this opportunity to work on our most important project: making an heir for the throne?”

His hand under the furs traveled down your body and hooked one your legs on his hip. You could feel his leaking tip against your dripping center which clenched around nothing. Letting go of your leg, he grabbed his cock and rubbed it against your cunt. A needy whimper left your lips and you slid your hand between the two of you to grab his sex and put it inside of you in a swift motion. He groaned as you let out another whimper, this time filled with want and need. Your breaths mingled as you got even closer and put your forehead against his. Your eyes met briefly, full of lust and naughty promises.

“Anything for you, my King.”

Tagging (feel free to ask to be added or removed): @naaladareia @gearhead66 @flowers-in-your-hayr @medievalfangirl @girlonfireice

#vikings #drabble #harald finehair #harald x reader #smut

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lady06reaper · 24 days

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Alright yall....

I NOW WRITE FOR VIKINGS!

I really like this show and there's just not enough content for this amazing show! will write for anyone at this point in time but if I don't feel like I can get the character right please have a back up just in case

#oneshot #fanfiction #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ubbe x reader #bjorn ironside x reader #hvitserk #halfdan x reader #harald x reader

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woahhhgwendolyn · 11 months

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Being Haralds Woman Would Include...

Being his woman would almost feel unreal because of all the things he does for you and also give to you. He loves to spoil you with things because of the money he has. He loves to surprise you with wonderful jewelry and new dresses almost all the time (He would love to get new dresses just to show off your breasts because he just loves them so much, and he technically has to get you new dresses a lot because he seems to always rip them off you when you two are trying to have sex.) He loves complimenting you all the time as well. He just loves seeing you smile and get shy. That is another thing he loves, is you getting shy. He will purposely say something sexual or even do something sexual to you in public and loves to watch you get shy and nervous. He even likes to see you get shy when he just says he loves you in public. being his woman has multiple perks but the only downside of him being king of all Norway would be that he is gone a lot and has meetings a lot as well during the days and nights. But of course he always makes it up to you in the end because he would hate for you to dislike him or hate being in the relationship with him. He loves you way to much to lose you in any way.

#harald finehair #harald x reader #norway #harald #scandanavia #harald fairhair #harald fairhair x reader #viking #vikings #imagines #norse #nordic #king harald #king of norway #his woman #vikings imagines #vikings headcanon #vikings harald #viking imagine

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introverted-imagineer · 5 months

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The Light Amongst Obscurity (Part 20)

Warnings: Themes of slavery, death, sex, violence and language. Take care to leave this story alone if it doesn't serve your well-being.

Before we begin, I'd like to thank everyone for being so patient since I wrote and put out the last chapter. My full-time commitments have meant that there has been less time for writing, and I'm sorry for the long wait. Recently I received the most lovely message from someone that read as follows:

'Hey! I really love your Collateral series! I was just wondering when you would ever make the next chapter! I really hope that you're doing okay, you're a REALLY good writer.'

It was the most lovely thing to be told. To all my fellow Imagineers of course, but particularly to the sender of this lovely message, this one for you 💝.

My fellow imagineers, I didn't think I'd even get a single reader, and now I'm posting chapter 20. Thank you so much for the confidence, kindness and love you have given me through following along with this. I'm glad the silly little stories in my head have brought some joy to others.

BTW, as I try to write along with the storyline, instead of making my own, I do intend to continue the story as the series continues. Yours truly and gratefully

--The Introverted Imagineer.

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I remember the first time I ever travelled by boat. It was dark, the breeze wafting a bitterly strong taste of salt in the air. My mother's arms wrapped around me, her chin shivering up and down as her fingers clutched tightly to me. Her scruffy and itchy poncho wrapped around my small frame as we drifted into the night. A brute man sat at the front of the small boat, rowing us forward around the moat beneath the castle. Another man sat behind, at the stern, his head inquisitively shifting as he startled at the sounds the world around us made. His tenseness was clear, his thighs spread wide as he pulled us into his clutch, my mother desperately trying to be the barrier between us. In the distance, amongst the tall grass on the southern side of the castle, a servant stood silently with a single lantern, pulling the boat as closely to the bank with the line the man rowing had thrown so begrudgingly at him. It was clear that nobody wanted to be here.

‘He is waiting for you in the watchers keep just a mile down the bank’ the servant said, as he carelessly threw a small bag of coin into my mother's hands. The clinking sound was lighter than usual as she disappointedly weighed the contents with her hand. ‘What of my child?’ She asked ‘I’m sure his majesty’s counsellor would…welcome the extra company’ he snidely retorted.

Instantly the clinking sound returned amongst the silence, startling the man on the boat as my mother threw the coin back at the servant's feet. ‘You can tell Godwin to seek his services elsewhere’ she spat as she carefully looped her arms around my shoulders, pushing me behind her, shielding the wandering eyes of the servant as he looked us up and down. The servant bent down slowly, his gaze locked on mine as he did, a chuckle emitting from his pudgy gut. ‘I could…but his majesty’s councillor may not be so forgiving…nor to your child’ he smugly retorted as he took a step threateningly forward. ‘Aren’t you ashamed? That your child must see you in such a…vulnerable position…’ he whispered, his hand coming up and cradling my mother's bosom. ‘I do this so my child will never have to’ she spoke, taking a step forward, her eyes ferociously locked upon his, matching his viciousness.

Without fear she grasped the small bag from his clutches once again, taking a step back as her gaze fell to the ground, retreating from his clutches in defeat. His chuckle emitted again. She turned to the man in the boat, as he sat silently, his oars still in hand as he sat irritated, waiting for the whole debacle to end so that he may return to his slumber. ‘Please’ she said, looking him in the eyes, holding the bag out to him. ‘Just keep her safe until I return, and it is all yours I swear it’ she pleaded defeatedly. He sat there for a moment, looking at her, before reaching out and placing the bag in his pockets. My mother turned to me, kneeling to look at my small frame, placing a gentle kiss on my head and whispering in my ear ‘Go to sleep my darling, and when you awake we shall be home, sleeping amongst the hay’. I could tell by the gentle glimmer in her eye that this was not something she was pleased with in the slightest. ‘Come Twyla’ the servant demanded silently. She stood, looking at the man in the boat giving him a gentle nod, to which he returned. He stood, the boat rocking beneath him as he effortlessly picked me up and placed me onto the floor of the small wooden dingy. ‘Go to sleep child’ he said, wrapping the itchy fabric around me tighter. ‘You. Go get some food from the keep’ he demanded to his other companion on the boat.

As the man had gone, and I lay with my head pressed against the creaky wooden floor, the sound of rustling water beneath me, the sound of clanking metal gently sounded. ‘Make sure you give this to your mother when you awake child’ he gently whispered, tucking a coin into my tightly wrapped blanket. I silently nodded, appeasing the man as he returned to his seat, waiting for the night's events to be over.

I could smell that same smell, penetrating my senses. The silence was the same, the tenseness the same, but this time a new sensation of the vivid memory of the past overwhelmed my senses. The extraordinary sense of loss. Kurya was gone. My dearest friend gone, my closest companion since I had lost my mother…gone. The air was tense, adrenaline still pumping since our escape from the Pechenegs. I had no tears left, empty in the constant companion that death had been in my life.

Nobody had dared come near me for two days. Whether it was from pity, fear, or anger. I didn’t believe I’d see them again, I didn’t want to see them either…but there was a pull. A pull to Twyla, to Kurya…even to Harald Siggurdson. My eyes were so dry a misty fog smeared my vision, everything was grey and dull. All I could feel was the boat swishing as it rocked down the water, in a direction I could not tell. Elena sat close to Harald on the journey, tending to his wounds, pressing her small delicate hands against the Viking's firm chest adorned with new scars that tattooed his chest. Harald sat there, whether he was enjoying the affection I could barely tell…but I couldn’t say I didn’t care entirely. I could feel his gaze shift to me as Elena’s face came close to his, her eyes shifting seductively between his body and his chest. I didn’t want to care.

Mariam sat shivering, like my mother that night, her teeth chattering in the cold as the colour drained from her face, fading to white as time shifted throughout the days. Leif distressed, watching closely, impossibly trying to pull Mariam back…but Mariam was already half gone.

I could feel the tenseness of everyone else…the anger that radiated from them impossible to miss. Logically, I could understand. I had deserted them, told them all to go to hell, cursed their names, shut them out. It was no secret I hadn’t been the best companion on this trip. But this was this journey was the only chance…the only thing that gave me a sense of hope so that I may be reunited with Twyla once more. All I could do was sit and wait…

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‘We will make camp for the night’ Leif announced, Mariam curled into his side as her shakes became stronger, her face more pale, her breaths more desperate. As everyone had spent the day wearily watching Mariam decline, there was no protest from anyone. Without hesitation, Kaysan immediately swerved the rudder, heading towards the abandoned hills that surrounded us. Another reminder of how far away any civilisation was.

We silently climbed the hill as Mariam had insisted. ‘We are less vulnerable if we go higher…I cannot spend another moment on the boat’ she said, almost pleading as she looked toward the orange-tinted sky. A gentle curve of her lips almost escaped as she looked at the sky in utter contempt, admiring its beauty. Leif and Harald walked up the hill, their arms underneath her carrying her to the top of the hill, leaving the boat unmanned at the bottom of the bank.

A gasp emitted from Mariam, making us all freeze, my own heart slightly dropping at the sharpness of breath that escaped her lungs. Was this it? Was this her final moment? ‘…Look…’ she breathed out, making everyone quicken their pace to catch up to the trio as they stood at the summit. I lifted my hand, ready to block the rays of sunlight that would pierce my eyes…but it did not. Instead of more fields, stone columns, some sturdy, some broken, adorned surrounding a stone circle upon the ground. The closest evidence to finding civilisation we had seen since the Pechnegs camp. A structure that was peaceful, and seemingly entirely our own as the orange sky turned to violet.

Harald and Leif gently placed Mariam on the ground, leaning her frail body against a pillar as her strong shaking continued. The sun's glow highlighted the sweat that covered her forehead, and yet she shook as if she had plunged through the ice. ‘We will make camp here for the night, everyone go find anything to burn, you girls find something we can eat. Y/N you stay here with Mariam…you can’t be trusted anywhere else’ Leif snidely remarked as he stalked off towards the primitive woodland area. Harald took in a deep sigh, contemplating his stay as his eyes darted between myself and Mairam.

‘We are okay Harald…please’ she whispered. But Harald stood in place, this time his eyes boring into my soul as his expression looked cautious. ‘Come Harald’ Elena said, slipping her hand into Haralds, grasping tighter onto his hand than he returned, dragging him into the woodland.

‘C..come s..s..sit wi..th me Y/N’ Mariam stuttered, reaching her tremoring hand out to my own. I slowly walked over, slipping my hand into her sweaty cold palm, shocked at the icy feel. I sat in front of her, resting her hand in the lap of my dress, giving her a gentle squeeze in a lost attempt to provide some warmth and comfort. ‘I’m sorry about Kurya…I know you two were close’ she whispered, her eyes glazing over and she reminisced about him. I flashed a weak smile, but even the kindness of her words could not undo what had been done. ‘He loved you very much’ she said, a single tear escaping. I could feel my lips begin to quiver as I pictured Kurya standing there, the army and family he once would have died for, slaying him like cattle. The image was clear as anything, and the tears began to flow again.

Mariam’s weight collapsed into me, as she weakly flung her arms around my body, letting my tears soak into her dress. She held me, not letting go. ‘Family has never been a constant in my life…Kurya was an extraordinary presence’ I sobbed, my voice cracking at the first words I’d spoken in days. Her lips gingerly pressed against my head as she rested against my body. ‘I don’t have anyone anymore’ I whispered into her ear. Her hand lifted, as she lightly stroked my hair. ‘Kurya will always be with you…your daughter will be with you once more…’ she muttered. I pulled back, looking deeply into her sickly yellow eyes, her look one of compassion, her hand falling from my head, trailing to cup my cheek. ‘Kurya spoke of a beloved baby girl’ she spoke softly, her lips curling into a smile. ‘It wasn’t hard to piece together’ she remarked. ‘But you never spoke of her, so nor have I my dear one…that is your heart whether you choose to share it or not’ she pronounced. It felt a relief…to know that she had kept it to herself for all this time…never uttering a word. ‘Thank you’ I whispered, but no words came out. Mariam gave a nod, pulling me back into her weak embrace.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Mariam’s gasps for breath became more strained as the stars arose in the sky. She silently tried to hide the pain she felt, Leif comfortably sitting behind her, his heartbreaking before him. I still hadn’t said a word to anyone but her, silently sitting there watching as Mariam sat dying before me. Death was a constant companion. Elena sat by Harald, curled into his side as she watched with weepy eyes, like everyone else's, as they watched Mariam suffer.

‘I’m sorry, it is finally my time.’ Mariam announced weakly. It was almost as if you could hear everyone's heart cracking in two. One by one, everyone resentfully got up to say goodbye, cursing time for the thief that it was, taking away another person. I looked at Lief to find him staring back at me, his face one of despair and sorrow as Mariam kissed and hugged her friends goodbye.

I could sense Harald in my peripheral vision, waiting for me to approach expectantly. But I sat frozen in place, looking back at Lief, trying to ground him as he held onto Mariam. Little did everyone know, we had said our goodbyes already, but I could not do it again. I had said goodbye too much, too many times, and our goodbye was as perfect as it could be, and we were both content with that.

When Leif had finally carried Mariam off into the privacy of a warmer place, we sat around the fire listening to the crackling. Nobody dared to speak…or so I thought.

‘Do you think you’re the only person who’s lost anyone Y/N?’ Elena announced spitefully from across the flame. I looked up to meet her, my blank face adding fuel to the fire that had woken inside Elena. ‘You couldn’t even bring yourself to go and so much as kiss Mariam as she died before us’ she said, standing up, sauntering around the fire (closely dragging her hand across Harald’s shoulders as she did) and taking a seat so close to me that her body rubbed against mine. ‘What have you really lost Y/N…I’ve lost my father, I lost Kurya too, and now Mariam…people who actually cared for me. After all this…what have you really lost if nobody really cared for you’ she spat, her face inching closer as she spoke each word. ‘Elena’ Harald howled, making everyone else jump. ‘She’s right’ Brigtoc joined. ‘No goodbye is just heartless’. Elena’s chin rose, a confidence building within her as her feelings appeared to be mutual between some of the group. ‘We should have left you to the Pechenegs…maybe Kurya would have still been here if we did’.

I stood forcefully, grabbing Elena’s arm and pulling her up with me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, my body temperature matching. ‘You don’t know shit.’ I retorted, getting just as much in her face as she had mine. Dorn let out a pathetic chuckle… everyone's eyes trained on us…but I could sense loyalties didn’t lay in my favour. ‘You have no one’ she whispered, her nose almost touching mine as she dared to get closer. Without thought, my hand reached up, clasping her jaw, pushing her away as sharply as I could. Her jaw dropped, a sinister smile appearing on her lips as she readied herself for a fight.

‘THAT’S ENOUGH’ Harald roared, standing up himself as he walked over to the fire pulling Elena away by her arm at least a foot away. Voluntarily she curled into his chest, grasping onto his shoulders, but Harald did not return her touch, his eyes piercing as he looked at me shockingly. A tense silence washed over us as everyone's eyes darted to me. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes in deep thought.

‘I’m done. FOR GOOD’ I spat, turning without question, stalking back down the hill we had spent the afternoon climbing. ‘Y/N’ Harald yelled, ‘I ORDER YOU TO COME BACK’. I stopped in my tracks to see him at the top of the hill, a few steps away. However, instead of the fierce look of the angry Viking, I was expecting, his face had dropped, realising the words that escaped his mouth.

An order. As if once again I were the thrall, and he were my master.

‘Y/N…I didn’t…’ he began stuttering, lifting his arms and smacking them against his head in desperation, his eyes begging to take back the words he had just said.

‘Curse you Harald Siggurdson’ I whispered, my eyes glazing over once more. I turned around, refusing to let him see what he had done. I stalked down the hill, into the darkness. Out of view from Harald Siggurdson.

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When the sun had risen, the voices trailed as the wind swiftly danced down the mountain, carrying the prayers and words of everyone. There was no mistaking what was being said. Mariam was clearly no longer with us. I sat in silence, listening to their words…their words of praise, of sorrow…of love.

It was best to leave them in peace, to grieve their friend. Little did they know, as I sat on the sandy shore, my heart wept for Mariam too.

Only hours later, after hours of silence did I hear any movement or talk from the group at the summit. This one however was not the piercing threats of Elena, Brigtoc or Dorn; nor the pleading apologies of Harald Siggurdson, but the sound of Leif Erikson as he sat beside me.

‘I know why you didn’t say goodbye Y/N…Mariam told me everything. I know I was angry at the time…but I understand’ he said, sighing as he scooped a handful of sand, rustling it within his palm, before angrily throwing it over his shoulder. ‘I’m tired of death’ he sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead, and swiping it across his head in defeat. I simply nodded, knowing exactly what he was feeling. ‘I know you don’t want to come back to us, and I can’t say they want you back either’ he sighed looking into the distance as I was. ‘I promised Kurya I would protect his family, but he did not say any specifics…I will not force you back on the boat, but I will tell you that Constantinople is closer than you think. It is your choice whether you choose to come with us or not. I sighed deeply at the thought of being so close…but it too all seemed out of reach. My thoughts were interrupted as Leif stood. ‘But I do ask one thing of you Y/N…if you choose to leave, talk to Harald.’ My shoulders jumped as Leif put his hand on my shoulder, but I relaxed at the feeling of comfort as he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Please. You owe me that much…’

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I could hear whispers down the shore. I had not moved from my spot since Leif had spoken to me. But he was right…if I choose to leave, I need to speak to Harald. That much, I owed him.

I slid my tired legs underneath me, standing to walk down the beachfront, towards to voices that carried down the shoreline. As I rounded the corner, a loud gasp escaped my lips. Harald pushed Elena away gently, wiping his lips as Elena’s face dropped, clearly disappointed by the sudden break in their moment of passion. ‘Y/N’ she began distastefully, but Harald’s words stopped her before she could continue with her tirade. ‘Elena. Please, a moment of privacy’ he silently pleaded, as mine and Harald's eyes locked on each other. When she didn’t move, his eyes broke contact as he slowly turned his head to face hers ‘Please’.

Elena unwittingly began her descent back up the hill, stomping on the thick mossy plants as she did, making it very apparent she was displeased. Harald’s eyes had locked back on mine, his breathing increased as his chest rose and fell. ‘Y/N…I’ he begged, taking a step forward gingerly. ‘I need you to free me’. I said, not demanding, not asking…but informing. ‘I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that I am a free person and that any ties I had, and any I have with you are done. I need you to know that I don’t owe you anything, and I will bestow the same upon you. I could feel a hot tear escape my eye as I was adamant, that this would be the last encounter I would ever have with Harald Siggurdson. ‘I didn’t mean’ he pleaded. ‘It doesn’t matter if you meant it…but deep down something in you believed it. So tell me now. Free me and we can be done with this all…I can be done with this all’ I begged my voice crackling as I said it.

His chest rose and fell again, his own eyes glazing over. ‘Of course’ he breathed out, the tears finally falling down his cheek. But his words didn’t give me the relief I so desperately craved..but it was enough for me to turn around and walk away forever from Harald Sigurdsson.

‘Y/N!’ He spoke, making me stop in my tracks immediately. Even feet away, I could still sense the way his body shook, I could picture the tears that ran down his face. ‘I need you to know…that I am totally, utterly, divinely in love with yo’

‘THERE’S TWO MORE DOWN THERE YOUR EXCELLENCY’ A foreign voice interrupted. Our heads both cocked towards the top of the summit. A man with a blue cape stood with his hand resting at the hilt of his sword, his finger pointed down to us as more uniformed men came into view. ‘COME!’ He demanded. I looked at Harald, his equally confused and cautious look matching my own as our eyes met. Harald stood firmly, gazing back at the men at the top of the hill, weary of meeting their demands.

A bird circled the men, squeaking and singing as he rounded them again and again, refusing to leave what would normally scare such creatures away. Its wings flapped, casting a shadow as it drifted in the wind down the hill, only to land feet away from me, blocking the path at which I had been so determined to walk. Away from everyone and everything. I looked back toward the men, my insides calm and steady as I felt a strong sense that there was something with these men. I glanced back at the bird, its eyes meeting mine as it sat in its place. I gazed back toward the men and began to walk up the hilltop. Moments later, Harald's footsteps followed my own.

‘Which one of you is Harald Sigurdsson of Norway?’ The man asked as we walked towards the stone ruins, only now to find it decorated with a violet tent, men in blue matching the equal grandness of our surroundings that had magically transformed. ‘I’m Harald’ Harald said, walking gingerly toward the man. ‘The Emporer Romanos has travelled from Constantinople to greet you’ he said, moving to reveal a heavily bejewelled man sitting upon an even grander chair. I could feel my heart pumping, adrenaline begging to race throughout my body, my veins pumping blood as I cast my eyes upon him. The Emporer looked between us, offering a gentle nod in my direction, before casting his entire focus upon Harald.

Harald bowed, I followed suit, curtsying deeply to my knees at the foreign man before us. He arose from his chair, walking towards Harald ‘We heard rumours that a mighty band of Vikings had made it past the Pechengs with a group of women’. Harald’s breathing slowed into a more normal pattern, realising that the men before him were friends rather than foes. The Emporer was clearly pleased and even more impressed with the news of the Khans’ death.

‘Did your Highness come all this way just to thank us?’ Harald asked. ‘No, I came to see if you brought the treasure from Vitmor of Chude’ he said, a smile on his face. Harald conveyed the news that Vitmor had died on the journey, but that his daughter Elena had the object he desired. The Emporer smiled at Harald ‘We have already confirmed its authenticity’.

The Emporer suddenly turned towards one of the many tents that had been erected in our absence. The curtains flicked open, and there stood Elena, bedazzled in jewels and exquisite fabrics. Her eyes locked on the Emporers only, the rest of ours locked on her. She sauntered grandly toward the Emporer…as if they were old friends. He took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. ‘My bride’ he announced proudly, his gaze locked upon Elena’s. ‘The new empress of Constantinople’ he announced, shocking us all as our hearts pounded.

Disbelief washed over me…this whole time…Elena was more than the simple girl we believed her to be. Her eyes cast over us all, as we all dutifully dipped into bows and curtseys…myself included. The Emporer’s attention then cast upon me, as he let go of Elena’s hand, walking toward me. I looked toward Harald, his look equally as confused as my own.

The Emporer lifted his hand, gently placing his fingers under my chin, inspecting my face. A gentle smile appeared on his lips. I could sense Harald’s chest beginning to rise and fall again as he watched the Emporer as he closely inspected me. Elena’s eyes cast longingly upon Harald. ‘Tell me my dear…what is your name?’ His fingers still resting underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. ‘Y/N’ I whispered cautiously. His pearly white teeth appeared as his smile erupted, a pink tinge appearing across his cheeks. The Emporer turned toward one of the tents, holding his hand out expectantly. I gently slipped my hand into his, following closely as he walked toward one of the heavily guarded tents. ‘I believe, my dear, that we have found whom you seek’ he spoke to the tent.

A man opened the flap, the tent too dark to reveal what was inside. A shadow cast out before the girl exited the tent. She was dressed in an exquisitely made burgundy dress, matching the colours of the flags that flew in the breeze around us, her hair pulled tightly into braids, wildflowers adorning her hair. As she stepped into the light, that familiar smile I had only seen in my dreams for months. On her hip, a baby sat in bewilderment inspecting her surroundings curiously.

I gripped onto the Emporer, my hand flying to my mouth as I fell to his feet. A cry escaping from my gut…a cry I had longed to release. The Emporer chuckled, shooing the men away who instinctively darted to his side. But the Emporer only graciously wrapped his arm around my waist, bringing me forward to Mathilda as tears escaped her own eyes. ‘Twyla, a very beautiful name for a beautiful child’ the Emporer spoke his hand cupping Twyla’s face gently.

Locked in an embrace, Mathilda pulled to the ground with me as my arms wrapped around her and Twyla, our faces smooshed into one another's shoulders and we cried and cried. I could feel Twyla’s tiny hand grasping at the strands of my greasy hair as she tugged. But I didn’t mind at all. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’ I cried aloud. Mathilda’s embrace only tightened. She pulled back, a teary laugh escaping as we looked at the state of one another's faces. I looked at Mathilda, a pleading look on my face. ‘You don’t need my permission’ she whispered cupping my face. She carefully handed Twyla to me, as I held her close, letting her little hands grip onto my grimy dress as she curiously looked at the world around her. Mathilda looked up, looking to see the man I also longed for, her face falling at the realisation that he was missing. Our eyes locked, and the sorrowful look on my face said it all, Kurya was not here. I wrapped my other arm around Mathilda, bringing her back into my embrace, crying in both mourning and relief that our family had been reunited once more.

The commotion behind me faded away completely, my whole being focused on the three of us as we hugged and cried. The only thing I could hear from the commotion behind us ‘I’m in your debt’.

I couldn’t guess how much time had passed, but my arms were sore, my eyes completely dry, and my beautiful daughter soundly asleep in my arms. As I finally pulled away, I looked up to find Leif’s eyes upon us, a gentle smile appearing to his lips as his eyes cast between Twyla and myself. Dorn and Brigtoc’s eyes both flickered over us, guilty looking to the floor when my gaze met theirs.

‘Y/N’ that familiar deep voice sighed. I stood up, my legs numb, and turned towards him. Harald Sigurdsson, for the first time ever, looking entirely lost.

‘How…?’ He whispered, his eyes darting in disbelief between the sleeping baby and myself. ‘Who…’ he asked, a desperate plea in his tone. I took in a deep breath, my voice clear as I spoke. ‘There's no other possible way’. Harald took a step back, his eyes glazing over. He brought his hand up to his face, hiding the quivering of his jaw as he looked on in disbelief. Elena watched carefully, her eyes focused solely on Harald, trying to unravel the emotions he was feeling.

Harald took a step forward. Instinctually I cradled Twyla closer, making him freeze in his steps. Mathilda stood closely by. Harald’s face dropped, sorrow cast over him as more tears fell down his face ‘I…I would never hurt her.’ He pleaded. I looked at him, simply giving a nod, permitting him to approach. He delicately walked forward, cautiously stepping over the stones, as if terrified of waking the sleeping bundle in my arms. He stared for a while, not daring to touch her. Her restful breathing loud in its own small way as we both looked down upon her. I raised his hand, like a dandelion drifting in the wind, he delicately placed his finger on her cheek, placing his touch upon his child for the first time. Twyla gently stirred in my arms, but her sombre remained silent as she reached up, grasping her tiny hand around his finger gripping tightly. His heart melted before him.

‘Now my dear friends, a hero’s welcome awaits you in Constantinople’ the Emperor announced, a satisfied smile spread across his face, ready to take us onto the next part of our journey.

#vikings #harald x reader #vikings valhalla #vikings x reader #harald sigurdsson #imagines #vikings imagine #x reader #valhalla #leif eriksson

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bjornswoman · 1 year

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Shieldmaiden's Secret

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey people! I found this in my drafts, changed it a bit and finished it. Sorry for any mistake, I wrote quite fast and I will correct them. I promise. Anyway, I hope you will like this one and I have some more work ready for you. Stay tuned! Until next time, have fun and take care! Bye!

Pairing: Harald Finehair x Fem!Reader.

Genre: Angst, drama, fluff, romance.

Summary: King Harald and you have a secret relationship.

Warnings: Spoilers from season 5B, jealousy, strong language, drama.

Your hands were working on your long hair, braiding it tightly for the upcoming battle with the Christians as you were walking through the camp to catch up with the strictest person you knew – your mother.

Your mother was one of the mightiest shieldmaidens of the shieldwall. She had achieved that long ago by working really hard and alone.

Brunhild – your mother – was one of the best woman warriors, but she wasn't a good mother. Not even close to that to be honest.

She acted like a commander when you were a child, pointing out rules and what you must or mustn't do. She would usually point out the stuff your mustn't do.

You had no father and that worked its way for your mother to despise men. All you could remember was her talking about how better were woman at everything and how you should avoid men, or trick them for your own benefit.

All you knew about your biological father was that he was a rich man – a jarl or a king maybe – and that when she told him about you, he sent her away. She raised you all alone, not to be a woman, but a warrior. You had been training since you were able to walk and carry sword and shield.

Back to her rules, you mustn't talk to men without her being around. She said you were easy to trick and manipulate, so she didn't leave you alone around any man. You were sick of it, sick of her manipulating you. You wanted to leave your life as you wanted, even if that meant that you would get hurt.

When her eyes met you, she started walking your way. You couldn't spot the blue of her eyes because she had narrowed her eyes. You knew it was coming a fight with her, more likely an interrogation coming from her.

"Where have you been?" Her voice was cold as your gaze and her hand grabbed your arm tightly. Your eyes met hers. You weren't afraid of her, at least not anymore.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You asked her trying to free your hand from her tight grip. Your mother didn't let you and tightened the grip more than before.

"Answer me!" Her tone was even colder than before and you could sense her blood boiling inside her veins. It became worse any minute that were passing and you weren't giving her an answer.

"Calm down." You whispered at her and finally freed your hand from hers. "You should really stop this. It's sick you know and by the way I was getting ready for the battle." You spoke, hands gripping your sword.

Her eyes looked at you suspiciously, it wasn't like she believed at you, but she didn't get to continue the questioning, because someone was standing nearby, looking at you. Well, not just someone, king Harald Finehair himself.

"Brunhild." He spoke to your mother smiling and she forced a fake little smile on her face to greet him. You could spot the times she was lying or those she were faking her attitude around others.

After all, it wasn't a big of a secret that she hated powerful men and Harald was one of them. A king.

"King Harald." She responded.

Before she even speak to him, his blue eyes were on you and, of course, your own were studying him. You tried not to look over-excited or suspicious around your mother. She had the ability to caught you lying and pretending as well.

"And you are (Y/N)." He spoke to you this time, but fastly turned to face your mother. He was good to this game. Better than you. "Your daughter, right?" Harald asked like he wasn't sure about that himself, like he didn't know you by hard, all of you.

"Yes, my king." You were the one to answer and his eyes met your figure once more.

"Good." He said and was about to say something again, but a voice distracted him.

"My king!" One of his most loyal men run his way and Harald turned to look at him. They were speaking for a little amount of time and then Harald turned back to you.

"May the Gods bless us to win today." He spoke before both of the men disappeared in the camp.

"Stay away from him." She warned you. You didn't respond to her, or looked at her. Your mind were on the older man, speaking to you just moments before. "Look at me!" Your mother grabbed your face and made you looked at her in the eyes. "Stay away from him!" Her tone was firmer this time and you nodded annoyed by her.

According to her all men – especially those who had the power – were bad and wanted to seduce women and then leave her behind like they were a toy or garbage. She believed that all men were like your biological father who sent her away and even tried to kill her when she was pregnant and their relationship took a serious way.

Well, men could be like that. You knew that for yourself too. But Harald wasn't like that. You knew it. He had been hurt by women before. First, princess Ellisif and after his wife queen Astrid. He was unlucky when it came to women and love. He wanted to have someone by his side, he needed to be loved. Apart from the women, he had lost both his beloved brother and his unborn child. After those tragedies, you came in his way. A woman he cared about.

It was unexpected the way and the fact that you met. You didn't want to start any kind of a story with him, at first. You tried to avoid him, but as everybody knows he is very stubborn and wouldn't let you escape like that from him.

Back then, you were afraid of your mother's wrath when she would find out about your relationship with Harald. She would be furious. She would try to take you away from him even if that meant that she would have to kill him or he kill her. You didn't want that. You loved Harald and your mother, she had raised all alone and you couls understand her, but didn't want to live like that. You wanted your life to be your way, not hers.

And Harald. Harald would give you everything he owned, only if you let him. Your relationship was happening all in secret, because you had asked him to be this way. He wanted a real life with you, one he didn't have to chance to live with anybody else. He was a grown man and knew exactly what he wanted.

After your mother's warnings about the king, you didn't have any time for her lessons about men because you had been called from the other shieldmaidens to participate in the shieldwall, the battle with the Saxons was about to believe.

The battle didn't end up the way you wanted because Bjorn Ironside, Lagertha and Ubbe son of Ragnar were fighting for king Alfred and Wessex, that ended up with you retreating back to York.

"King Harald has joined forces with Bjorn Ironside to overthrown Ivar the Boneless from Kattegat. This means we go back to Norway to fight." Brida, a shieldmaiden, spoke to you and she placed her cup on her lips, sipping from the ale it contained.

"I heard he is fond of Gunnhild, the former wife of late Jarl Olavvsonn, but she is with Bjorn Ironside." Revna said laughing and felt your blood boiling inside your face and your hands starting to shake, but you had to remain calm because you were among many shieldmaidens and mostly because your mother was sitting next to you.

"I heard that too! Bard told me he noticed as well." Runa mentioned and all of them laughed and drank. On the other hand, you felt bitter. The wound you got from the battle earlier felt nothing opposed to the pain in your chest after those news you received.

Your eyes met the ones you didn't want to meet, not now, not after the news the girls delivered. When your eyes met, you looked at anything other than him.

You placed your cup on the wooden table, feeling sick being in the same place as him. You couldn't bear watching him after that.

"I will retrieve back to tend. My leg is quite hurting and as I've heard we are going back to Norway so I'll some rest." You said as you stood up from your seat. Your eyes were on your mother, asking for her permission to leave.

You left and walked back to your tend to be on your own for a while. All the lessons and words your mother spoke about men came inside your head replaying themselves over and over again.

Harald wasn't the man you thought he was at the end of the day. You tried to keep your tears from falling when you remembered all the words Harald whispered to you when he thought you were sleeping. The promises and everything.

"Stupid girl." You told yourself in an attempt to forget about him, about all nights in Tamdrum when you sneaked at nights to see him.

"I disagree with you." You heard a raspy voice coming from the shadows. If it was for another day, you would be all happy, but not this night. Not after what you found out about him.

After his statement, Harald came out of the shadows he was hiding and placed his hand on a spike, after he leaned his body on his hand and looked at you playfully.

"If you say so, my king." You spoke formally, like you had no other relationship with him, like he didn't know you and you didn't know him. But it wasn't like you knew him. If you had, you wouldn't have gotten involved with him. "Have a good night." You bowed and turned your back at him.

A move that Harald didn't like at all. He couldn't understand the reason you were acting like that. You were trying to avoid him it was too obvious. He moved away from the spike and came closer to you – who had started to walk away from him – his hand grabbed yours and forced you to stop and turn to look at him. You opened your mouth to protest, but he spoke faster than you.

"Why are you avoiding me? This morning you were alright but now you are not, what is it?" He was frowned and his tone was confused. His eyes were studying your face for any kind of response while you were trying to keep your tears once more. You to be brave and proud, that meant that you shouldn't let yourself be that weak in front of him.

"I am not avoiding you, my king. I am just really tired because I have this wound from the battle and word spread that we are going back with Bjorn Ironside and his company, so I think that I'll need some rest." Your words came faster than you wanted them to. They had to come out naturally, but they did not. You couldn't form proper words when you were that close to him, your heart was beating so fast and his eyes were watching at you like that.

"Don't lie to me." He growled, quite angry and pulled you closer by your arm he was holding.

"I would never dare to lie to you, my king. This Saxon came from behind me while I was fighting another Saxon and he stabbed me on my thigh. The healer said—" You were rambling nonsense, trying to defend yourself and not saying what you learned just like that on his face. But Harald stopped you.

"I know. I know exactly what happened to you and what the healer said. But what I don't know is the reason you are avoiding me and don't tell me it's about your wound because we've been together before when you were wounded and as I remember, I treated your wound myself that night. So tell me." His voice was firm and he knew you were lying, but you didn't want to say the truth. You didn't want him to see that you were that hurt because of him.

Harald was playing with you all this time. So you didn't want him to see that you believed all this could be serious and he meant that one day you would be his wife, that he would give the world.

"I don't want my mother to notice that we – you know." You spoke again and you noticed him getting even more angry.

"I don't get the reason you keep lying to me! I thought we were clear with each other!" He yelled and you feared that somebody heard. Your eyes run around and luckily your saw no one confessing this moment between the king and you.

"I am not lying. You know the problem with my mother. You've known about it since the beginning. Also, my leg is hurting very much. Truly. There is no lie in my words." You ensured him which was partially truth. Your leg wasn't hurting that much, but it hurt and you mother, everything you told about her was truth.

Harald closed his eyes for a while out of his anger and then opened them again. He could read you so easily, because he knew you very well.

His hand left yours and both of his hands touched your cheeks. It was the first time you confessed Harald being like that. He seemed so desperate, he broke your heart. You closed your eyes and then opened them again and they were wet. The tears were ready to fall from your eyes.

"I know those things, but they have never been a problem. It's something else I can see it inside your eyes. Tell me what it is. Tell me I can fix it." His voice was soft after the sight of your eyes. His fingers caressed your cheeks wiping the tears – that fell without you noticing them – away.

"You can't fix it." You broke and finally let the rears fall from your eyes without any care. Your didn't care that you were crying in front of him anymore. "You can't fix it because it's not something that can be fixed." You continued ready to tell him about the things you found out some time ago. You pulled him away from you and he walked to come back closer – confused by your actions – but you raised your hand to stop him. "I heard some very disturbing things about you that hurt me, Harald. I heard that you were very displeased when you heard about the new lover of Bjorn Ironside, a woman named Gunnhild. A great shieldmaiden, I hear. They say you desire her and it's very obvious. So, that means, king Harald Finehair, that you were playing with me all this time. That you didn't mean anything from the things you told me. So my mother was right for you and I did exactly what she told me not to." You confessed. Tears were streaming from your eyes like waterfall. Harald wanted to speak to defend himself, but it wouldn't mean anything. It didn't matter. You moved your hands on your cheeks and wiped the tears away. "That is my problem, do you think that you can fix it? Because I don't."

"That's not the truth! I don't know who spoke such lies to you but I ensure that there is no other in my heart! I love you! Everything I told you it was truth. I want you and only you. Gunnhild is a strong woman and good shieldmaiden, I admire her but not love her. Believe me. I only love you." He was yelling at first, but stopped his speech whispering his last words. The words he admitted his love for you.

You closed your eyes and shook your head. You couldn't believe him, not when everyone had noticed and had spoken about it. You took a deep breath and opened your eyes to look at him. He seemed hurt as well and this image broke your already broken heart.

"I don't believe you. You-you know you won't have Gunnhild, so you come back to the easy option the stupid little girl. I loved you with everything I had. I wanted to prove to my mother that you were different, I wanted to be with you even if that meant, I would go against her, and you proved her point about you." Harald tried to reach you but you stopped him again. He didn't listen at you this time, he grabbed both of your arms with his strong hands and forced you to face him.

"I love you! Why is that so difficult to understand because of some rumors about me? You don't trust me and that's even worse than anything! You just want to find something against me and prove your mother's points of me. That's it, nothing else. I have never made false promises to anyone, especially to you. I had promised Ellisif, the first woman I ever loved, I would be famous and great king for her and I kept my promise, she was the one who betrayed me. I promised you to give you everything I have, you were the one who wanted to keep our relationship secret. I am tired of this game. I won't beg anymore, (Y/N). I have treated the women I desired with love and loyalty, but no one have done the same for me, even you. I thought you were different." His voice was softer than ever before. You had hurt him deeply.

Both of you had hurt each other.

Harald let go of you and moved some inches away from you. You couldn't form a word. You were angry with yourself and with him. You didn't know what to think and what to believe. Harald seemed to say the truth. He seemed deeply hurt.

"I will find who spread those rumors and I will let you know just to prove you that I have never lied to you." Those had been the last words he had spoken to you before he disappeared in the dark of the night.

You stayed on your place for a couple of moments and cried to yourself under the night sky. When you calmed down, you retrieved to your tend trying to find some peace before your mother come in.

When she burst into the tend you were awake. You couldn't sleep at all, you mind was only on Harald.

The first thing she did was to come in front of and started to yell about you talking with Harald. She said someone had seen you talking and Harald being really close to you. You were trying to find a good excuse, but you were sure thag she wouldn't believe you. Although you didn't care anymore about it. After all, it was over.

"King Harald helped me. He was carrying me back here because my leg was hurting and bleeding. He made it stop. That's the reason we were close. He was the only one out there to bother himself with me." You spoke angrily, sick of her questioning and all. It wasn't fair to speak to her like that when she wasn't at fault, but you couldn't help it.

"It sounds too good to be true. King Harald helped you? He wouldn't help anyone without a cost. What did he ask for repayment?" She asked as she sat next to you on the ground.

"Nothing. He didn't ask me for anything. After all, I don't think he wants to lose any warrior. A battle is coming with Ivar the Boneless, one of the cleverest strategists, if not the cleverest one, and he needs us. He needs every blade he can master." You spoke and treated yourself your bleeding wound.

"That's a fair point." Was the only think she said before she laid on the ground to get some sleep. On the other hand, you couldn't find peace inside your mind, so you couldn't sleep.

It was after midnight when five men burst in out tend, you stood up and grabbed your mother's axe. Your mother grabbed the dagger she had hidden under her belt. She was fast and cut the arm of one of them, but the others took our weapons and they grabbed us.

"What the fuck is happening?" Your mother yelled at them, as she was kicking, trying to break free as you did.

"Shut up!" The one who was holding her told her and kicked her knee.

They took us out the tend and threw us on the ground on our knees, out hands were behind our backs. You didn't know the reason this all was happening, until Harald showed up.

"What is this supposed to mean?" You were the one to yell when the king was in front of you. "We did nothing wrong!" You yelled again.

"I am not sure about one of you." He told you when he were just inches away from you, his hand caressing your cheek. You tried to move away, but one of his men kicked you on your wound. Harald glared at him and moved closer to the man. You didn't get to hear what he told him, but considering his face he was angry. Then he turned back to your mother and you. "Brunhild, do you want to share something with us? With you daughter maybe?" Harald spoke to your mother and you turned your face at her frowned.

"My mother did nothing!"

"Brunhild, tell your daughter what you did." Harald placed his axe on your mother's throat and caressed with it softly her neck. It wasn't enough to hurt her, he did it just to threaten her. "Tell her." He tone was cold, he was getting enraged.

"I did what I had to do to take my daughter away from a man like you." She didn't sound a bit afraid. The quite opposite to be honest.

You were at her confused.

"Continue. I would to be the one to tell her what you did, but I prefer it to be you." Harald spoke again and you saw your mother greeting her teeth out of anger. "Tell her that you knew about us." Your mouth was wide open when you heard.

"What-what are you saying?" You couldn't understand what was happening.

"Did you think that I wouldn't know it? I had known it since the first time it happened. I knew it every time you sneaked out of the house to meet him. You did exactly what I was telling you your whole life not to do. I couldn't let you waste your life like I did." She didn't hesitate a moment.

"I was the waste of your life, right?" After this question of yours you started to understand what was happening in front of you, what she had done.

"That's not what I said, but I didn't want my life to end up this way and, of course, I didn't want your life to end up like that. So, I was the one who spread the rumour about that shieldmaiden and your lover. I needed – you needed him out of your life. I did what I had to do for your sake. I hope you are understanding me, (Y/N)."

"Shut up! I can't hear you anymore! You are the only person who is wasting and destroying my life. Your life isn't miserable because of me or the way you have been treated by my father, but because of you. You, your ambition, your hate towards males, that's what wasted your life all those years. But I won't let you manipulate and destroy me anymore." You were really angry with her and all her scheme. You stood from ground and nobody stopped you. "I must admit though that you are a good manipulator. You knew exactly the way I would react and you found the right time to start with your plan." You stopped in front of her and kneeled to be equal with her. "This is the beginning of my life, Brunhild." You whispered at her, before the men took her and she became Harald's prisoner.

After a while it was just the two of you standing in front of each other, but no one tried to start a conversation. You were just eyeing each other.

"Now what?" You were the one to start speaking first.

"I think you owe an apology for you've told me earlier." Harald came closer and his hand moved a strand of loosen hair behind your ear.

"About that, I think I owe you an apology for that and I am sorry that I didn't believe you, but I was really hurt and I owe you an apology for what my mother did. So I am really sorry for everything." You spoke truly. You didn't want this moment to end.

In your mind, this was the last moment you had with Harald. You couldn't be together again. You didn't believe him when he told you the truth. You broke his heart. And he. He did everything he promised. He said that he would find who was the one who spread the rumours and he did.

"One apology is enough." Harald said in a playful tone.

"I wish that night would never end." You whispered at him and smiled. He looked at you confused, but he smiled genuinely.

"What's so special about this specific night?"

"It's the last I see you. The last time you are that close to me." Each word you spoke, each tear threatened to fall from your eyes.

He frowned, but the smile was still on his lips. His hand made it on your cheek and he caressed your skin softly.

"The last time? Who said that?" He asked smiling and you were the one who was confused this time.

"I thought you didn't want me after what I told. After-after I didn't believe you." You confessed and he chuckled. Both his hands, now, caressing your flesh of your cheeks.

"I told you that I love you and this can't change. Also, I have told you in the past that I wanted you to be my queen and I intend to make it true. I really love you and I know that you love me too." Harald said and his lips touch yours.

It was the first real kiss between the two of you, the first that you weren't afraid to give. It was the most passionate one you had ever shared and Harald was a skilled lover.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, as your lips were on his. His teeth were biting your bottom lip here and there. When you moaned, his tongue moved inside your mouth and started dancing along with your own.

"So what do you say? Will you be my queen?" The man you loved the most asked you when you two stopped kissing and his muscular hands were wrapped around you tightly. When you heard his question you smilled.

"I thought you knew the answer." You answered when your eyes met his.

"I want to hear it."

A wide smile formed on your face.

"I would love to be your queen." You said and he kissed you again. His hands were holding your even tighter and you laughed.

#king harald #harald finehair #king harald finehair #harald x reader #harald finehair x reader #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings au

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blakeswritingimagines · 8 months

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Who fell first and who fell harder

Ragnar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Athelstan: He fell first and harder.

Floki: You fell first and harder.

Lagertha: You fell first but she fell harder.

Aslaug: She fell first and harder.

Bjorn: You fell first but he fell harder.

Ubbe: He fell first but you fell harder.

Hvitserk: He fell first and harder.

Sigurd: He fell first but you fell harder.

Ivar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Halfdan: You fell first and harder.

Harald: He fell first and harder.

#ragnar lothbrok x reader #lagertha x reader #aslaug x reader #bjorn ironside x reader #ubbe x reader #hvitserk x reader #sigurd x reader #ivar x reader #halfdan x reader #harald x reader #vikings #vikings imagines #athelstan x reader #floki x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 days

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From Away 1

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include noncon or dubcon and other untagged triggers. Mind the warnings.

Summary: you apply for a job with a rather eccentric boss.

Character: Harald Halfdansson

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

Courtesy tag: @alicedopey

For a country built forged in centuries, everything feels so sparkly and new to you. A new home, a new world, at least for a while. It is all so splendid and wonderful. And expensive.

So it is that you head off with a fold in hand and your purse bouncing against your hip. You have a job interview. A very interesting one though the commute promises more than enough time to prepare. Rather, to overthink.

You can’t complain. It sounds like an interesting opportunity. A dream job you couldn’t hope for back home. There weren’t any historical sites that popular to require excessive staff.

You stand at the stop just outside your building. You need to catch a connection at the downtown center and another in an area you’ve never been before. After that, there’s a bit of a walk but you could use a reason to exercise.

The bus pulls up and you smile at the driver as you scan your pass. You find a seat though it isn’t hard. Most are empty this early in the morning. You hug your bag in your lap and watch the streets pass by as the driver chugs along, stopping and starting until your reach the core of the old city.

You nearly miss your transfer and sit breathless on the second bus, measuring your heartbeat until it’s calm again. The close you get, the worse your nerves are. The last interview you had was for this very opportunity. Just to go on exchange, you had to sit in front of a panel and answer questions about why and how and so many things. You can do it, right?

The third bus takes you into the hills, lush green against the grey blue sky, some rocky peaks in the distance. The landscape here is rich and varying. Back home, you can find a similar spectrum of backdrops but the distance in between is vast.

Last stop on the route before it circles around and you get off with a thanks to the driver. You step onto the gravel apron of the back road and check your phone. You don’t have a signal up here but you have the directions saved. Just in case. You follow the steps up towards your destination. It’s not easy to miss as the old fortress stands sentinel at the top of the jutting incline.

Kastali Castle. A bit redundant upon translation; ‘Castle Castle’. In your research, you discovered that the fort was built on a millenial foundation of an old viking village, since updated over the centuries by warlords and kings, and burnt many times over by invaders. You shuffle through the history in your head, trying to sort the timeline as you approach the low stone barrier along the lower tier of the property.

The gate is open. On the other side, sheep graze lazily across the grass. You’ve learned since your arrival that the creatures have free reign of the countryside. They may eat and wander where they might. You stop to fawn at a younger lamb. The animals can be a bit ornery but they’re cute.

You turn back, looking up at the high foundations and carry on along the steep path. As you get to the large wooden door that would let you through the tall inner walls, you hesitate. You can’t just let yourself in but you don’t know where to go. You check your phone, thinking to call the number in the email but your bars are still empty.

“Invaders, ho!” A holler breaks the earthly hue and you step back to look up at where the voice erupted from. There’s a figure above you, so high you have to crane your neck painfully. You continue to back up until you can see the man above. “Are you lost, fair maiden? Or do you come upon a quest?”

You blink, nearly giggling at his flowery way of speaking. His accent lilts his words peculiarly.

“Um, I have an interview,” you yell back up, the effort making your throat thrum. You’re not much for raising your voice. “With, er,” you look down at your phone. You hadn’t saved the email.

“Harald,” he calls back down, “yes, he is expecting you.”

The man disappears and you stare up into the sky after him. You can hear creaking and cracking then silence. You lower your head and look straight ahead, waiting. The arched door opens with a long whine and the same man appears before you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he gives a crooked grin. His weathered skin is marked with blue black ink along one side of his face. A nordic symbol you can’t decipher.

“It is I, Harald,” he offers his hand, “the keeper of Kastali.”

“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name in return.

“Lovely name, lovely,” he squeezes before he lets you go, “and a curious accent I here. American? No, no, speak for me again.”

You blink at him dumbly, “um, okay, I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“Irish,” he jabs his finger into the air. “I hear the twang.”

“No, sir,” you laugh, “Canadian.”

“Ah, the great north,” he booms, “yes, I see. Forgive my assumptions.”

“It’s okay,” you grip your bag and shift your weight nervously. “Thank you for the interview, sir, this place is really cool.”

“Interview?” He squints, “is that what I said? No, no, you’re hired.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for an interview,” he shakes his head, “I need help. Forthwith.”

“Oh, right, maybe I misread--”

“Let’s forget that, unless...” his brows rise and his forehead lines, “you do not want the job?”

“No, no, I do,” you assure him, “I just wasn’t expecting to start today.”

“Yes, you are not dressed well for chasing away Gustav.”

“Gustav?” You echo.

“You will know him. He is a dark cloud on this place. If you do run into him, well, run in the other direction,” he girds, “well then,” he moves to stand with his back to the door, holding it open, “let’s begin with the tour, the we will worry about all else.”

“Oh, sure, um, right. Cool,” you pass through the door and he eases the door shut behind him. As the old brass latch clanks, you wince.

“Wow,” you look around at the interior walls, “it’s so big. It must be a lot of work. How many people work here?”

He laughs heartily and claps his hand on his chest, “just me. Well, you too, now.”

“Just you?” You gape over at him. It’s only then your notice that his hair is much longer than you thought. It hangs, bounded in golden hoops, down his back, much like an ancient warrior fashion.

“The king of my own castle,” he winks over at you, “let’s not waste any more time. We have much to do.”

#harald halfdansson #dark harald #dark!harald #harald x reader #vikings #au #drabbles #series #from away

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phenomenal1500 · 5 months

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You all want more Harald smut or just Harald in general? Request me some!

#harald x reader #harald sigurdsson #harald hardrada #vikings valhalla #vikings imagine #vikings #harald smut #smut

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author-morgan · 10 months

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Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you.

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage.

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared.

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep.

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching.

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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lordavanti · 2 years

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Alliances

Harald x Reader Summary: You are the younger sister of Emma and get wrapped up in the war against the Vikings. During their victory and your imprisonment, you get to know Harald. And from one thing comes another. Words: 2050

You had heard stories of Ivar the Boneless, how he was always three steps ahead of these Englishmen. You had heard stories of Ragnar Lothbrok and his devious plans in the raid against Paris. You had heard so many stories about these Vikings that you didn’t believe this one would be any different. They said these Vikings didn’t stand a chance in taking London. Yet, as you watched over the wall towards London Bridge you knew they would have a plan. A plan your young new king wouldn’t see coming. Maybe it was an instinct you shared in sharing that same kind of blood. Maybe you just had paid attention. Your eyes went aside to your sister, Emma, Queen of Normandie as she watched that same bridge. ‘It won’t be that easy.’ You said. She looked towards you, shaking her head. ‘That power is out of our hands' sister. It is up to the king to learn from his mistakes.’ She said with an encouraging smile. Your eyes went back to the swamps behind the bridge, troubled maybe. Emma noticed that and she took your hand in hers. ‘Know that we have power too, I know these men, if they invade London we will be one of the few to survive.’ She reassured you. ‘How are you so sure?’ ‘Because we are women, powerful women, men need that. I’ll make sure you and my sons are safe.’ She shortly touched your face. There was no doubt in her eyes, not even fear. Emma knew what she was doing and there was not a single person in the world you trusted more than her.

And she was right. You were right. London Bridge fell under one of their wicked plans. The king got captured due to his arrogance and those Vikings invaded London like some sickness spread through a land. They separated you from your sister, they separated your sister from her sons. There was only one Viking that stepped into your room, Olaf. Emma had told you about him, how he had been an advisor once before, how he was greedy for money and power. ‘You must be Queen Emma’s sister.’ He said with a look that searched all over you. Your only response to that was to lift your chin. ‘You have her attitude.’ he chuckled with a pointing finger. ‘What is it that you want?’ You asked him. You know what he wanted, Emma had warned you about it. ‘The late king's treasure.’ ‘You should be asking my sister that.’ You noticed. Olaf stepped closer and you held on to keep straight in his eyes. ‘You’ll be good leverage.’ He smiled before stepping away and leaving you in the room again. Your fingers relaxed around the black dress you were wearing. You breathed out while you watched the closed door. Somebody else should be coming, only then you could guarantee the safety of both your sister and her sons. But not with Olaf, not while he held you both all to himself.

Two days. You were standing before the window, watching down to a courtyard with slaughtered people they dragged away when that door opened again. But it wasn’t Olaf standing there, it was somebody else. A younger man, more handsome than the one before. ‘Who are you?’ You asked him with a certain attitude. The man smiled shortly, stepping into the room. He looked completely at ease with the situation. ‘I’m Harald Sigurdsson, I’m here to bring you to safety.’ He nodded. It was an almost respected nod and for some reason that threw you off balance. You folded your hands before your body, taking a step away from the window. ‘I’m perfectly safe here.’ You gestured to the room. ‘You are not safe with Olaf.’ He pointed out. Now you smiled, a light amused smile. ‘And I’m safe with you?’ You asked him in return. Harald did not move, he only crossed his arms before his chest while watching you. ‘I was ordered to find you and your sister and bring you to King Canute.’ He explained. For a moment you looked past him into the hallway. When you looked back you stepped closer to him, lifting your chin a little. ‘I can’t trust you unless you bring my sister here and she tells me to follow you.’ You said determinedly. He smiled. For a moment he only watched you, nodding as she stepped into the hallway. He gestured to somebody and it didn’t take long for your sister to appear in the doorway. ‘You’re okay.’ You breathed out as you embraced her in relief. She cupped your face. ‘Olaf has my sons, win their trust, show them your best side and we can get out of this unharmed.’ She whispered with a short nod. You nodded, pulling back out of her embrace as your eyes shifted to the stranger. ‘I’ll trust you now.’ You nodded to him.

Both you and Emma had a goal. She pointed all of her attention on King Canute while you focused on what seemed to be the prince of Norway. And it seemed there was some good about these Vikings. Canute tracked down your sister's children while Harald gave you the space and privacy. It were simply conversations you had with him but something about the simplicity about it made you curious. You stood before a large mirror as one of your servants was tying the ribbons in the back of your dress together when a knock sounded. ‘Come in.’ You said. You looked through the mirror towards the door, finding Harald standing there. You looked over your shoulder and nodded to your servant. She left your side and the room. ‘Prince Harald, what can I do for you?’ You asked him neutrally while gazing back towards your own reflection. ‘I’m simply checking if you have everything you need.’ He said. Your eyes went back towards him through the mirror as he walked closer to you. ‘Allow me?’ He asked while looking down at your dress that wasn’t entirely closed yet. For a moment you just looked at one another before you nodded. He lifted his hands and you kept your breath as his fingers touched your naked skin while pulling the ribbons closer. Hands that were made to murder and here they were, so carefully tying together your dress. You kept your eyes on the mirror, watching him. ‘Thank you for keeping my family safe.’ You said. He looked up from the ribbons as he took your braid and laid it back in place. You turned around to him. ‘I admire your relationship with your sister, you’re both so strong-headed, so damn beautiful.’ You couldn’t help but smile as you looked down to your hands for a moment. ‘Don’t you have a family?’ You asked him in return. He chuckled, shaking his head as he took a step back from you. ‘Not like yours.’ He just said. For a moment you just looked at one another again. ‘Will you join me for dinner?’ He asked. You lifted your chin again, giving him a short smile before you stepped over to him, laying your hand on his arm. He walked you out of your room and for the first time you felt powerful. Not because your sister was there to support you but because of him. Maybe he was the first man you really learned to trust, that you wanted to trust. And it made you feel powerful, because he was the prince of Norway, and you were entitled to so much more too.

This dinner included a grand speech from king Canute. It included the death of Eadric Streona. It included glances and gold. And you couldn’t relax for as long as Canute was talking. Your eyes went from your sister towards Harald who gave you a reassuring nod. Nothing would happen to you. That was what your sister had said, that was what Harald had said. You had to believe them, you had to trust them. And they were right. As soon as Canute sat down the dinner started. Wine floated, and conversations were made. You kept yourself a little in the background, following the conversations your sister had while throwing glances at Harald. And more than often you found him looking back. It created something in between you, something your sister noticed. When you left the table to leave for your room your sister got up as well. In a matter of seconds, King Canute and the others followed in getting up. Emma walked over to you, and shortly looked over to Harald before she pointed her attention back to you. ‘You make me proud.’ She smiled. Your eyes went towards Harald. ‘I think he is a good man.’ You whispered before looking back at her. Emma smiled as she lightly stroked your cheek. ‘Trust your instincts, they are never wrong.’ She advised me before stepping back. And as she did Harald stepped forward. ‘I’ll bring you back to your room.’ He gestured towards the door. Your eyes went back to your sister and there was just that playfulness in her smile as she watched the both of you leave the room.

There was silence the entire walk to your room. And when you arrived and opened the door Harald stopped in the doorpost. ‘I wish you a good night Y/n.’ He said. You turned around, watching him make some neat bow that almost made you giggle. But you couldn’t because you didn’t want to laugh, you wanted him to stay. ‘Prince Harald,’ you stopped him in his turn back to the hallway. He turned back, giving you a questioning look. ‘do Vikings often just take what they want?’ You asked him curiously while walking back to the doorway. His eyes went over you while he processed the question. ‘Some do yes,’ he paused, tilting his head. ‘most do.’ He seemed puzzled while he figured out where this question came from. ‘Why don’t you?’ You asked. His eyes searched yours, holding them with such intensity. ‘Take me.’ You slowly said. For a moment you thought he would decline your suggestion. But you guessed that something in him couldn’t refuse this as he stepped forward. This was the first time he invaded your personal space. He lifted his hand, stroking a strand of your hair out of your face. You closed your eyes on the sweet sensation his fingertips gave you. ‘Am I the first man?’ He whispered as he brought his face closer to yours. You looked down to your hand that crawled over his chest until it rested on his shoulder. You looked at him while nodding. ‘I'm not raised a Viking.’ You answered. He searched your eyes a little longer before cupping your face and placing his lips on yours. Your arm sneaked over his shoulder while tasting his lips. Your first kiss and it had to be with a Viking. Respectful as he was he kept it rather neat, pulling back to measure your response to it. Your fingers folded around his tunic as you stepped backward in your room, pulling him with you. You closed the door and that was the inevitable sign for him to release that eager hungry Viking part of him. He undid his tunic before pulling his shirt out. Your eyes lowered over his naked chest as he walked back to you. Now his kiss was different, his tongue scouted your mouth and you were completely dazzled by the intensity that brought. All you could think off was this, this moment, how you wanted it to spread for an entire night. Your fingers explored his hard muscular chest before you loosened your lips from his, already out of breath. You turned around and his fingers curled around the ribbons, loosening them while his lips followed your neck and collarbone. Your dress loosened and he so agonizing slowly peeled it from your body. There was no insecurity, not about this, not about him. The plan was to win him over. And honestly, you were a little confused about who won who over. Because you fell for this Viking charm, this rough beauty. And after a night like this, you were never able to look the same way at them as you did before.

#Vikings Valhalla #harald sigurdsson #Harald fic #Harald Imagine #Harald Sigurdsson imagine #Harald x reader #Harald Sigurdsson x reader #emma of normandy

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