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#hes sigurds estranged son

haljathefangirlcat · 4 days

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Scandinavian sources say a lot more about Sigurd/Siegfried's family situation than German ones. He has three older brothers: the first, Sinfjotli, was their dad Sigmund's designated sidekick; the second, Helgi, got into a reincarnation romance with a valkyrie named Sigrun, who loved him to the point of trying to make love with his ghost on top of his grave mound; the third, Hamund, isn't too significant, but he did have a whole bunch of sons, including two famed vikings called Hagbard and Haki, who usurped the Swedish throne at one point, and feuded with the Danish Sikling prince Siggar, resulting in the tragic tale of Hagbard and Siggar's daughter Signy. Faroese ballads also give him a half sister Svanhild (fathered by King Alf, misidentified in the ballads as his father Hjalprek), who marries Ismal, a kinsman of Dietrich von Bern. Sigurd was out fighting dragons and waking up Valkyries at the time, what have you, and was rather pissed that Ismal didn't choose to ask his permission first, instead of getting his parents' permission and then informing him after the fact, so he forces Ismal at sword-point to go fight three dragons in a row, which Ismal does, because he wants to marry Swanhild and doesn't want to fight Sigurd. But then Swanhild cries and begs him to let up, so he swallows his pride and goes to retrieve a half-dead Ismal (who really did kill the dragons) and heal him up in time for the wedding.

All this to say, I think modern AU Sigurd/Siegfried probably has some issues over how he's estranged from his father's side of the family, and while he admires his two much older brothers, doesn't have as close a relationship with them as he would like. I imagine he gets obligatory wedding or birthday invites from Helgi and Hamund, and then hangs out in a corner feeling bad that he doesn't know any of the other people there. And that's how the Nibelung brothers actually filled a void in his life.

I always found Helgi's tale so sweet and sad... barring that one time Sinfjotli just has to go and start insulting people's masculinity, lol. I have to admit I always forget about Hamund, myself...

I didn't actually know about Svanhild and Ismal! Smash together the different "canons" a little, and you get an overprotective brother who eventually names his daughter after the sister whose husband he once beat up. It's cute! Aside from that, I just love how Faroese (and Danish) ballads always have the craziest additions and alternative takes on the heroes' families. XD

That's such a bittersweet headcanon! With his brothers all having their own individual stories and drama, I could absolutely see him looking for that kind of bond in other places. So much potential for both fluff and angst...

#ask #fate-magical-girls #norse mythology #nibelungenlied #sigurd #siegfried von xanten

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imeanwhynotbruv · 1 year

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Crossover problems 😭

Parent Evan “Buck” Buckley will break me!!

If you read my stuff you probably know I like doing alternate universes and crossovers.

But now I have the problem that every time I start a crossover I want to make another and half the time the universes don’t make sense 😭.

For example I have a GoT and Vikings crossover, that kind of makes sense bc like similar time setting, similar outfits…right?..right.

But when I was doing that I realised I wanted a crossover between Vikings and 9-1-1……I don’t even know.

I decided I wanted buck to have adopted a modern Hvitserk Sigurd and Ivar years ago but not told anyone bc he was estranged from his family.

(They were abandoned by their mother & for some reason they couldn’t find any of their family (+Ubbe & Bjorn are much older than them))

Then they lived in Denmark because he wanted the boys to grow up with their culture before he moved to LA and became a fighter when they were teens.

The 118 still think he’s a man whore but in reality he’s just always going home to see his boys.

Buck doesn’t tell them about his kids at first because he doesn’t know it he can trust them and doesn’t want to put his kids through that, but then it gets too late and would become awkward to just be like “hey btw I have like 3 sons”

Buck talks a bit about how he would parent in situations but the team just think he’s talking about the future.

Idk why but I love it 😭 like they go to Denmark every year on holiday and they celebrate the day they were officially adopted as a family holiday.

Buck is very protective but also like super chill?

Oooo and buck was so good with Chris bc he already had practice with Ivar?

I also love the idea of Ivar being picked on and school, getting into a fight, then haveing to have buck & Eddie called to the principals office only for everyone to point how how very in the wrong the other kid was 😫

And Bobby getting to basically be a grandfather to the boys?! My heart!❤️❤️

Abuela would totally just accept them too!!

Also I feel like the 118 would find out totally by accident? Or many buck didn’t quite realise they hadn’t figured it out so he’s so confused and their confusion when they meet his boys 😂

Omg and the Buckley parents didn’t know 😱

Crossovers will be the death of me Istg

(For people waiting for my other stuff to update! I haven’t forgotten I just want to make sure they’re good before I post them & I’ve been super busy lately 😭)

#evan buckley #evan buck buckely #eddie daiz #christopher diaz #buddie #buckley diaz family #ivar the boneless #sigurd lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #Chris is an angle #crossover #9 1 1 imagine #9 1 1 buddie #I’m sorry you other stuff is coming!#Parent Buck #Buck has kids and the 118 & Maddie didn��t know #Ivar Hvitserk and Sigurd modern au

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 1 year

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I feel like you've read my mind because I specifically want Sigurd to be the parent who gets called into the preschool during the middle of the day for an emergency parent-teacher conference about the fact that Julius won't stop biting the other kids.

Also, like, considering Sigurd never got to see his son grow up and all that, canonically, I think he should be allowed to spend as much time with his kids as he wants. But also like. It would be really funny.

Everything happens so much in Jugdral's politics! In Agustria, you have President Chagall flipping his shit because Eldigan, governor of Nordion, is more popular with the people. You have the governor's younger sister running his presidential campaign, despite the fact that Eldigan has said he does not want to run for president of Agustria. (He wins anyway. Quan and Sigurd swear a life debt to Lachesis for making it happen.)

And then in Grannvale, one of Prime Minister Kurth's main advisors is the son of another prominent politician - a politician who killed himself twenty years ago after he found out that his wife was cheating on him, with Kurth. What in the goddamn soap opera hell is that about?

And then in Verdane, the youngest prince disappeared suddenly and then was found a month later shacking up in Grannvale with a priestess.

And the prince of Silesse has a soundcloud and actually has a few bangers.

There is never a dull moment in Jugdral.

Robin debating with her thesis advisor about whether spurious text messages with her estranged father from two years ago are a usable primary source.

#the answer for 'what in the soap opera hell is going on there' is that Arvis has not felt an emotion in ten years #he has mentally checked out of Grannvale high society. he is being blackmailed by a cult.#he has three friends and one is his younger brother and one is his friend-with-benefits #and one is his middle school pen pal who he met on chess dot com. Arvis' life is in shambles #Jamke's fucking doing great though.#three frat houses au

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jadelynlace · 3 years

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something of madness for the widow / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x Reader], prologue

synopsis: You are brave. You are cunning. You are brutal. You are restless. And you are hunting them.

author’s note: refer to this post, your honor, when I go insane and finally snap because I have too many things in progress. details at the end of the post to clear up any confusion. please note that Ivar’s canon brittle bones do not exist in this universe. I have other pain to make up for it. I mean, what?

content warnings: mentions of mafia-style business, weaponry use & references, language, drug use & reference, sexual / adult themes.

✎

“How about a favor, for an old friend?”

“I am neither old, or your friend, Ragnar. The answer is no,”

“I have intel on the Galvanic Couple,”

“Does Aslaug still like sweet wine with her dinner?”

“The sky is still blue, dear,”

The pale beauty on the other side of the door had a face that dug into your heart. Blue silk for eyes that hardened like a metal cross with a growl hinted in his speech at his confusion for your sudden arrival. Ragnar promised himself once more that he had “forgotten” the silent promise that he was not to contact you. Certain unanswerable questions had spent too much time forming in his mind, questions you wanted answered just as quickly. But this man with chestnut locks of pulled back hair knew nothing of the hidden crudeness you had sailed upon.

Your lover turned up dead, lone bullet casing and hair mangled with blood and regrets. Copper polished steel with the whispers of a fake apology for the loss of your husband. But the couple never killed with their own hands; they covered his head with screams and terror and gave him one simple solution to their torture; and you were holding it between your fingers. It was the only reason you are determined to destroy their project, one beautiful blood bath at a time.

“Allow my condolences, once more. Your husband was a good man,” Ragnar started.

“Save it,” You spit quickly. “You have intel, and I want to hear it, we’re not here to shoot the breeze and catch up Ragnar,” Ragnar offered an annoyed sigh, setting his glass down against stained wood grain. A mahogany desk top that you knew was built by the same hands who had supplied some of the best weaponry you had used to date.

“I have intel, yes.” Ragnar spoke, leveling eyes with yours as you took the moment to drown the remains of the amber liquid from your glass. A sting down into your throat. “Quid pro-quo, dear. I’ll tell you something if you tell me,”

“I’m still waiting,” You argue, straightening up your frame as you level a stare against his.

“Can you move ice?”

“Is that a fucking joke? You know I can move ice—is business that bad for you Ragnar?” You ask but the snicker behind you calls for you immediate attention.

“Have you met my youngest?” Ragnar says, hand outstretched to his son as he comes through into the locked vicinity of spoken crime. The other man offered you a look, one silent nod in approval—or appreciation, you negated to really care which. “Listen, you work with me for these next few months, and you will get that intel,” He sings, the music floating into your ears as the thought turns over through your head, rolling around the musical notes and the lyrics to his speech. It blindsides you, loudness covering your common sense but in the moment you’re too lost, but too caught up to really care. You want to stamp your signature on the death certificate of that company if it took your own life in the process. Not through one loud bang, or one swish of a blade, but rather one scream at a time. “What do you say?” Ragnar asks, knuckles mingling together as he he folds his hands against his desk.

“You cover it all—every expense,” And you know with your barter you have this man locked back around your finger.

“Let me introduce you to your team,” Ragnar says as he stands. His kingdom is a large mansion, labyrinth of halls and twists and turns of marble, gold and well earned, well spent money. There are words he’s speaking to you, stories of golf games and coastal vacations that you couldn’t give less care about if you harbored every angry cell in your entire body. Blue eyes are trailing on your back as if they each hold the red glow of a scope, ready to fire by one small clench of his jaw. His steps ebb and flow, closer to you and then slip back a few feet, silently sizing you up from where you stalk in front of him.

“Excuse me,” You say suddenly at the halt of your feet. “I am trying my best to be polite, but if you move any closer to me, I will tear you apart,” comes your speech through crimson stained lips while those azure orbs take to watching you. Void of all emotion, eyes that look as dead as the stars in the sky take to haunting your own vision as he remains silent. You nod once for his unspoken understanding, still in your same spot as the two of you make no hurry to move in either regard.

“Save the pissing match,” Ragnar calls from the end of the hallway. “You two won’t be able to kill one another,” But those words do peak a sort of petty interest in your mind, this mute solider behind you that seems to be of such a prize to his father. You longed to see him in the field, ruthlessness pouring from each pore like sweat would, pulling men apart and yelling in victory through an estranged war cry. Something about how he towered above you, build sturdy like stone and expressionless, sparked your mind back to your late husband. You wondered if these blue eyes ever melted into a smile. Or if every emotion was boxed away out of spite. He waited for you to lead, resuming the steps and catching up to where Ragnar had stopped: double doors to a room already loud with the sounds of recreation. “My boys like to relax in here, before they return to the real world,” Ragnar says, opening the door. He flicks the lights several times, like a professor trying to wrangle a classroom of unruly, immature students, and each face, all eyes, snap to where you stand with their father. Ragnar takes to stalking into the room, peering around what these men have been up to in their cooling down. “Iron,” Ragnar starts, tapping the shoulder of his eldest son, “Titanium,” He then said, tapping his second born, “Gold, and Mercury,” He spoke, a hand on each of the next two boys. “And that is your partner, Lithium,” And his hand was outstretched back to that man who wore a glare better than you did, cold blue eyes that looked no different. And you knew right then, being at the center of this man’s attention was a very dangerous place to be. “This, boys, is Polonuim,”

✎

undercover name references for anyone who is not a science nerd, like me, eldest to youngest in this AU:

Fe (Iron): Bjorn, based on the ironside nickname

Ti (Titanium): Ubbe, low density & high strength

Au (Gold): Sigurd, least reactive

Hg (Mercury): Hvitserk, silent killer

Li (Lithium): Ivar, highly reactive

Po (polonium): Reader, 250-thousand times more toxic than cyanide

Galvanic Couple: in a galvanic couple, the more active metal (the anode) corrodes at an accelerated rate and the more noble metal (the cathode) corrodes at a slower rate. the anode: a human’s body. the cathode: a human’s mind.

Tagged:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @leilabeaux @writings-of-a-fool @builtlikeanokia

(also tagging anyone who commented/liked on that post)

*please message me to be added or removed from the tag list. specifications for series are welcomed, as well as feedback!*

full & current masterlist can be found here.

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

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The World Over

Genre: Vikings/GOT Crossover Fan Fiction

Rating: MA – violence, language, strong sexual content

Summary: Ivar the Boneless and Daenerys Targaryen find themselves unlikely allies. But each has something that the other needs to get them what they want. He has the tactical skill to take her all the way to Kings Landing. She has the dragon army that will give him all of England, possibly Norway. Will they be each other's savior or demise?

A/N: I have been writing fanfiction for years, but I lost my muse. I finally found it again in Alex Høgh Andersen. I am obsessed with him and his character, Ivar.

In my perfect world, Ivar would be on Game of Thrones. This is my attempt to fix the horrible ending to one of my favorite shows and these two worlds together.

My timelines for both shows are NOT accurate. They are not meant to be – I have to do a lot of finessing to make everything turn out the way I want it to.

With that, I hope you enjoy.

Ivar The Terrible

The voyage from Kattegat to England took roughly three weeks by ship. Twenty-one days seemed like a brief time passing for the Great Army, led by Björn Ironside and his brothers, to travel from their home to kill King Aelle of Northumbria.

Early spring had brought minimally choppy waters. The weather was warm enough during the day to require the Viking horde to only require wool and leathers, and at night, light furs.

The gods had blessed them with only two small storms during their entire voyage to the land of the Christians. Neither storm had been so severe that any member of their party took ill, or any of their supplies were damaged. Odin had shown the Vikings great favor as they set out to avenge their fallen King.

King Ragnar Lothbrok was the most famous Viking in all of Scandinavia. He had returned to England the year before the Great Army set sail, with his youngest son, Ivar. Ragnar had returned to question his friend, King Ecbert, on why he had slaughtered the entire Viking settlement that had been allowed to remain and farm in Wessex.

It had always been Ragnar’s dream to farm on lush and fertile grounds, and the soil in England provided just that. The weather there was moist and the winds carried the smell of freshly turned soil. Viking farmers were destined to turn a good crop there.

Farming in Norway had grown harsher. The soil was sandy and the weather was cold. Not much vegetation grew there – not enough to sustain their ever-growing population. The gods had blessed the Northmen with the ability to grow crops to feed their livestock, and the meat from those animals fed their villages. But Ragnar wondered how long would that last? The soil in Kattegat had been turned too many times. The gods gave him visions of moving his people to somewhere more fruitful, where they could farm and continue their way of life.

But, the god Loki had too much in store for the once-simple farmer. He had grown Ragnar’s ambitions too strong. Sent him on too many raids. Forced him into making too many enemies and shedding too much bloodshed. Before Ragnar realized it in his quest for power and gain, he lost his daughter and unborn son; his wife and son, Björn, had left him and he had four additional sons with a woman he did not love.

Broken, defeated, and estranged, Ragnar removed himself from everything and everyone. And upon his return, the only one of his sons to accept him wholeheartedly was the one son he had cast away.

Ivar the Boneless.

It had taken nearly 16 winters for Ragnar to forge a relationship with his youngest son, the boy that he had tried to leave in the woods to be killed by the elements or taken by wildlife. But on the trip to Wessex, Ragnar and Ivar finally bonded. It was during that trip, that Ragnar Lothbrok was killed by the Christians, but not before he told Ivar to avenge him.

That is exactly what the youngest of the sons of Ragnar had done.

Ivar and his brothers had put together the greatest Viking army the world had ever seen to travel across the great sea to personally deliver all of those who had a hand in killing their father to the goddess Hel.

But, it seemed that Loki had just as much in store for the younger Lothbroks as the elder.

Now, all but two of the brothers' Lothbrok found themselves on separate ships heading back to their home in Kattegat. Already at sea for more than three weeks, they seemed no closer to home then they had when he set sail 30 days ago.

"You are certain we are still on the course to Kattegat?" Ivar sat perched atop a treasure chest pushed up against the left side of the langskip. He had a thick rope used to raise and lower the sails wrapped around his arm to help keep him grounded to his spot. "We should all be enjoying a tall horn of ale by now!" Angry that he was unable to get up and walk around the vessel, Ivar rolled his cold blue eyes at the thought of spending another day on the ship.

He would never tell any of his fellow Northmen he was uncomfortable and the cramped conditions of sailing did not fare well with his legs. The weather was miserable. There was a dense fog that seemed to surround each of the ships making it virtually impossible to see any other vessel.

It had rained for the last five nights and four days. This was not just any rain. It was a freezing rain – like little blades of razor-sharp ice slicing through the air at your face, neck, and hands during the night. The weather during the day wasn't much better with the ferocious thunderstorms that pushed half of the sea into their boat.

Running his hands through his dark brown hair, Ivar squeezed the water from his long ponytail that hung at his shoulders. Trying to ignore the rain and saltwater dripping into his eyes, he sighed and clasped his hand around the arm ring given to him by his father. "Ragnar, show us to land soon," he said quiet enough so no one else could hear him.

He flexed his fingers, which were pruned, in his black half gloves. He was soaked to the bone. The heavy fur coat he wore did little to keep him warm, it felt as though it was just washed in the ocean itself.

Ivar was tired of being wet. His coat was wet. His blankets were wet. His clothes were wet. His boots were wet - if he did not remove them soon, he risked getting foot rot. The food was wet. Even his stools were wet, courtesy of inadvertently drinking saltwater.

"When I kill Lagertha and become King of Kattegat, I will no longer go on raids. I will send others to raid on my behalf," he said matter-of-factly, to no one in particular. "I no longer enjoy sailing."

A soft chuckle came from behind him, "Ivar, you are the youngest brother. You have almost no claim to the throne," Ubbe said putting both hands on Ivar's shoulders. Leaning up to whisper in his brother's ear, he continued, "Besides, do you think you deserve the throne after what you did to Sigurd?" With a good-natured double pat, Ubbe stood up and balanced himself as he walked over to the edge of the ship, untied his pants and relieved himself over the side. Still unable to bring himself to express his true disgust at Ivar for killing their brother Sigurd, Ubbe swallowed the hurt.

"You are aware that will blow back on all of us? Hmm, Ubbe?" Ivar said rolling his eyes. "All this wind," he circled his finger in the air to show his brother how strong the winds were blowing. His face held annoyance when Ubbe shrugged, suggesting he didn't care if his brother got pissed on. Ivar turned his head. "I have just as much claim to the throne as any of you. I am a son of Ragnar."

Looking at his brother, as he turned and smiled, Ivar admired how much Ubbe resembled their father. Their oldest brother Björn was the spitting image of Ragar, save the color of his golden blond hair. That hair color he inherited from his mother, Lagertha. But, Ubbe, looked he could have been Ragnar's twin. He had the same bright blue eyes, the same long dirty blond hair. Looking at Björn and Ubbe there was never any question that they deserved the name Ragnarsson.

His other brother Hvitserk looked like their mother, Aslaug, with his green eyes and blond hair. Even if he wasn't the spitting image of his father, resembling Queen Aslaug and her family, the family that was the hero Sigurd and the shield-maiden Brynhildr, was enough to make all of the young maids in Kattegat want to bed him.

Ivar never paid attention to his brother Sigurd to figure out if he resembled either of his parents. To him, Sigurd was a non-factor. Even with his disdain of Sigurd, he never meant to kill him. It was a mistake. Sigurd should have shut his mouth and stopped tormenting him so. Reminding him of Mother, with the strawberry blonde hair and the cleft in her chin, but saying such awful words. Those words would have never come from Mother’s mouth.

Then there was Ivar. He looked nothing like either of his parents or any of his siblings. While all of his brothers had been some shade of blond, Ivar had dark brown hair. His eyes were blue like their father's but a different shade. Ragnar's eyes were almost the clear blue of ice melting after a thaw, where Ivar's were the deep blue of the lakes of Norway. But the thing that made Ivar stand out the most from his brothers was his inability to walk. Ivar learned to get around by crawling, dragging his legs which were bound together, behind him. He was also the angriest and cruelest of his brothers – he harbored a pain that not even he understood. He never fit into his family; not in looks, abilities, ideals…

"The throne should go to the strongest, and best suited to rule, Ivar." Ubbe reminded Ivar as he pulled up the waistband of his britches. "That is Björn or have you forgotten?"

"Björn does not want it. He just wants to sail around the world and search for warm places," Ivar spat out.

Shaking his head, Ubbe returned to his seat using his legs to wedge himself into the corner of the ship as it continued to rock from side to side. "It doesn't matter. If he refuses, then I will take it. I am the next oldest. Then Hvitserk. Then you, Ivar. You have to wait your turn," Ubbe was careful not to mention his little brother Sigurd. That pain was still too real.

"Hvitserk?! Hvitserk is more fit to rule over Kattegat then me?" His voice rose an octave at the absurdity of the suggestion. “And you think you’re stronger?” Why couldn't his brothers see him for the born leader that he was? Why didn't Ubbe, of all of his brothers, the most sensible and reasonable one of all, understand that he would make the best ruler? "Or I could just kill you all now," Ivar said, taking his dagger out of its boot sheath so he could clean his fingernails.

"Might be easier when we get off these boats," Ubbe mocked. "That is if Odin doesn't take us all first."

"You don't want the throne, Ubbe. Neither does Hvitserk. He just wants to bed every girl from Northumbria to Kattegat." Ivar shook his head, frustrated with his brothers' lack of ambition. They should be more excited to get Lagertha off of the throne. She killed their mother, "Now that we have avenged Ragnar, I will get my vengeance for Mother. And when the throne is empty, it is up to one of us to take it. None of you want it. So, it is mine."

"If it is Odin's will," Ubbe said, before laying his head back and closing his eyes. There was nothing left to do but try to sleep. This would be another day left up to Odin for the crew to find their way back to Kattegat.

Njord, the god of the sea, was not finished toying with the Great Army. Until he was, there was nothing they could do to get their ships back on course.

Ivar narrowed his eyes at Ubbe. He loved his brother, but it infuriated him that Ubbe did not believe him. Ivar was going to be a King. He could feel it, and he didn't need a Seer to confirm what he already knew. The gods had favored him. He had been chosen, and when it happened, he would make everyone that doubted him pay.

A woman woke up from a dream with a start. Panting heavily, she wiped the sweat from her brow and sat upright in the bed. Pulling all of her long burgundy hair to one shoulder, she closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. She took a moment to touch the amulet on her chest and found herself relaxing slowly.

Placing her feet on the soft rug, she strolled over to the chair to collect her robes. The thick red robe was made from a blend of lamb's wool and cotton, with fur from the dire wolf to line the collar and cuffs. She put the robe onto her naked body and slowly fastened the clasps. Stepping into her red leather boots, he looked at herself in the glass that rested by the washing bowl on the table.

She looked as calm as she always did. But, inside she was shaken. The Lord of Light had given her the most peculiar vision. She wasn't exactly sure what it meant – that much had not been revealed to her. But she knew that there was a change about to happen in the Seven Kingdoms that did not bode well for her charge, Stannis Baratheon. Holding her head up high, she turned on her heel and exited her chamber.

"Ah, Melisandra, we were just making plans for our departure tomorrow," Leaning over a table with the sepia map on top King Stannis looked into the red eyes of the red woman standing in the doorway. "Come, tell me your thoughts on us traveling this way south?"

Ser Davos Seaworth, a tall man with balding grey hair, shook his head and huffed. He hated this plan. He hated how much Stannis had changed. But, most of all, he hated this Red Witch. "My Lord, we should rethink staying at Castle Black. The winter's gonna get harsher. Your wife and your daughter…"

"I'm thinking about my wife and my daughter!" Stannis yelled, cutting Ser Davos off, furrowing his heavy brows in the process. "Winter is coming and they can't survive it here. Castle Black is no place for a child. The horses are dying. The men are freezing and hungry. We have to move south before we lose the entire army – that is if those things don't kill us first!"

Calmly strolling over to Stannis and placing her hand on his arm, Melisandra lifted her red eyes to meet his. "My King, the Lord of Light has shown me a vision. It is not exactly clear to me the meaning or how exactly it means to play out, but I do believe Ser Davos is right. We should not leave this place." She moved slowly walking behind Stannis to stand on his left side. "Something or someone is coming from a land far away. Whatever this is, it threatens to change everything in the Seven Kingdoms."

"I have made up my mind," Stannis said slamming his hand on the table. "We leave at first light!" With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Melisandra and Ser Davos alone.

Curling his lip slightly at her, Ser Davos dared to ask, "You know how I feel about your visions. But, if it is something that will hurt Lord Stannis, I need to know."

Melisandra shook her head, for she could not quite articulate what she saw in her dream. "I cannot answer that as of yet, Ser Davos." Her vision had not given her enough to formulate coherent sentences. All she knew was it had something to do with a towheaded girl, a man with fierce blue eyes on the ground like a serpent, and dragons. She walked around the table and headed toward the door. "Just know, that the night is dark and full of terrors."

A/N - The first two chapters are a little slow. They are needed backstory for my timeline. Also, I’m a bit wordy...I talk a lot! Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the tag list.

Thanks!

@a-mess-of-fandoms @oddsnendsfanfics @waiting4inspiration @simsadventures @chipster-21 @tgrrose, @alicedopey @ariesxslytherin, @funmadnessandbadassvikings @poisonous00 @grav3yardgh0sts-blog @ietss, @sununicornann, @we-are-only-halfway-home93, @thelastemzy, @ajxlawley, @inforapound, @dreamlesswonder86, @cornishdawn-blog @becacosta 27@weirdestmentalityphilosopher, @naaladareia, @alexa4040 @nyx-daughterofchaos98, @moonlightsspirits @the-jess-life@laketaj24; @lostinthoughtsandfeelings; @naaladareia; @oqueequesentes-borboletas; @pokeasleepingsmaug, @synnersaint, @skadithegoddess @blackcoffeeand @greenteaformeplease @ultra-nina-bella @dina-m16, @fumblingthroughchaos @tiyetiye

#ivar lothbrook #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #viking fanfic #Viking GOT crossover fic #GOT fanfic #danerys fic #alex andersen #Alex hoegh #alex høgh andersen #aha #baby daddy #shannygoat #The World Over #ivar's heathen army #ivar the terrible

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