#ivar the boneless x oc
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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18
Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.
I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.
Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!
Words: 3900
Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings
Series Masterlist
The day of reckoning had come.
A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods.
Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives.
It was a day for justice.
A day for vengeance.
And Ivar relished every moment.
*****
Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated.
Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them.
For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives.
Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come.
The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act.
A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him.
"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."
The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.
Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come.
Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted.
Fucking pathetic.
At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer.
The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it.
"Wake him up."
At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man.
The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now.
The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement.
Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."
Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief.
“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”
“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?”
He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case.
The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue.
"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination.
"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane.
Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.”
Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white.
With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”
Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her.
He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain.
The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”
He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off.
“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover.
He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”
Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side.
“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”
Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–”
Another smack reverberated in the air.
“Try again.” Lagertha spat out.
Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse.
“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!”
Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill.
Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”
Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands.
But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha.
Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.
After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing.
Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.
Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.
“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise.
In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs.
Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of.
A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still.
“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”
Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin.
“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”
“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”
“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”
Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”
“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”
“What happened?”
“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”
“Okay.”
The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”
There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered.
“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.
As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”
Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now.
“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.”
At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic.
A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…
Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face.
“Toss me your lighter.”
Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.
*********
As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed.
Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high.
“You live!”
“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence.
Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?”
“India.”
“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”
Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”
“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”
“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”
Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim.
The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them.
Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real.
Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm.
At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”
“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest.
At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”
Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”
That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side.
“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out.
He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name.
Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water.
A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket.
“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn.
A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?”
“Huh?”
“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”
His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number.
“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”
What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief.
Someone was calling him about Kari.
As an emergency contact.
From a hospital.
Where she is a patient.
A PATIENT!
In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him.
“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”
“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him.
His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying.
He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her.
A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting.
He had promised.
And he failed.
Again.
“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again.
“Yes.” He croaked out.
“Excellent, what you can do is park–”
But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call.
Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?
What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic.
“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”
“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed.
“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror.
“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.”
Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option.
She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes.
This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her.
Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”
Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass.
The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel.
Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”
“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort.
“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”
As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind.
Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on.
Tag List:
@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got
#mz writes#to call forth love#vikings#vikings fandom#vikings fanfic#ivar x oc#ivar the boneless#vikings ivar#ivar#ivar ragnarsson#modern ivar#modern!ivar x oc#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar romance#hvitserk vikings#hvitserk lothbrok#bjorn ragnarsson#ragnar lothbrok#ragnar#lagertha
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Ivar the Boneless x Reader
“I don’t understand how you put up with them.” Ivar told you, clenching his fists.
“I know right.” You replied, smiling. One dinner and they have him gripping his hair.
“They’re lucky you’re their daughter.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “How can they just speak over you. They don’t even try to listen to you.”
You nodded, crossing her arms. “They’ve always been like that. It’s their way or nothing.”
Ivar tilted his head, his eyes focusing on her. “The person I know doesn’t let anyone push her around.” “Yeah, that’s the one you know outside of this realm of chaos.”
“If only I could let you see what’s inside my mind. It would be so much easier.” She mumbled, looking at the ground. “I-I don’t bother opening up for a reason…well..reasons.”
Ivar exhaled, he was trying to control himself from marching back into her family’s house. They’re gonna pay. I’ll make sure. He swore.
“I’m here for you. Even if you don’t want to talk or if you feel like there’s no words to describe how you feel, my arms are open.” Ivar told her, moving closer to her. She looked up at him.
“I appreciate that.” She smiled softly, grasping his hand. He squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her.
“You can move in with me. I’m sure mother will understand.” Ivar told her, grinning at the idea of living with her.
She thought about it. How? As if my family would ever allow that. She bit her lip. But to finally be away from the continuous conflicts. I could finally be released from the place that once felt like a home.
She sighed. In a another life, maybe.
“I wish. But I feel bad leaving them. As much as I hate…I can’t. I owe it to them.” She mumbled, looking away from him. She didn’t want to see his reaction.
He stared at her. He opened his mouth but closed it. No, I’m not like them. “Okay. When you’re ready or when you want to get away, let me know. I’ll make the arrangements and get you away from them.” She has a choice with me.
She hugged him, surprising him. She wasn’t a hugger. Ivar hugged her back. “Whatever it is, don’t feel guilty about messaging me or calling me.” He mumbled, laying his head on her neck.
#ivar fanfic#ivar ragnarsson#ivar x y/n#ivar x plus size reader#ivar x reader#vikings ivar the boneless#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar the boneless x you
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Told You
Ivar the Boneless x ofc
Word Count: 2431
Warnings: mature language, explicit sexual content.
Groans and cries boomed throughout the hut, a woman begging for more as a man encouraged her to take it like a 'good girl'. The sounds from Ivar's room were pure filth, the splintering of the wooden bed accompanied by a shriek to Odin. Yet, the room's typical tenant sat outside the door, gritting his teeth with blue eyes ablaze.
Footsteps approached, the noise getting closer and closer, but the man did not shift from his twitchy state, back against the cold wall and legs spread uselessly in front of him. "Ivar Lothbrok, you dirty pervert!" Elli bellowed, appearing before the young prince, shocking him from his murderous stupor. "Listening to your brother as he makes love to his woman! Absolutely shameful!" She chided, taking a seat beside him, their shoulders brushing.
Ivar listened to the constant swearing and whining behind the door, shaking his head. "Nothing about that sounds like love," He snorted. "Besides, where am I to go? My room is clearly occupied." He tapped the closed door, but no response came.
Rolling her eyes, Elli shoved her friend's shoulder, leaning in close. "Why not find your own woman and take her to Hvitserk's room for a bit of revenge?" Elli whispered, giggling at her master plan, ignoring his blank face.
The pair had been friends since childhood, with Elli being the only juvenile to overlook Ivar's legs and persevere through his temper tantrums. Although Elli did not enjoy the activities Ivar did, war and violence, they grew to be inseparable, the girl all but adopted into the Ragnarsson family and adored by all of Kattegat. While Ivar was a scorching wildfire, prepared to obliterate everything in his path, Elli was the morning sea, gentle and welcoming.
Clapping his hands, Ivar exhaled. "Oh, my innocent Elli, your master plan is flawless." The sarcasm flowed from his tongue. Holding up one figure, he wagged it in front of her tracking eyes before tapping her cold nose, jostling her. "The problem, however, is that I cannot have a woman." He spat.
Elli's face twisted, her lips pursed and nose scrunched. "What do you m– oh…" Her face dropped. Ivar clenched his jaw, humming and averting his eyes away from her. "Surely that is not the case!" She exclaimed, grabbing Ivar's chin and forcing his downcast eyes to meet her bright ones. Pulling out of her grip, Ivar sent her a pointed glare. Elli just shrugged. "Well, were you relaxed?"
"Of course, I was." He declared, finding the filthy floor more interesting than her raised brow. Rolling his eyes, Ivar sighed. "No," he grumbled, flicking dirt off his trousers.
Elli cheered, throwing her arms in the air. "That is your problem! You need to find somebody you can be comfortable around." She tutted. "You are far too concerned about how people will perceive your legs to relax in a situation like that; fear will scare your manhood away!"
Ivar choked. "And how would you know anything about that?!" he demanded, wondering what experience his angelic friend had and how he didn't know about it.
Elli huffed, crossing her arms. "I listen to woman talk, Ivar."
Clearing his throat, Ivar accepted her answer and moved on, yet it continued to dwell in his mind. "Where do you suggest I find someone like that? In case you have forgotten, I am not close with many people."
Elli paused, observing Ivar's dejected frame, before shrugging. "Well, why don't we just do it together?"
Suddenly, the obnoxious noises from Ivar's room faded into the background. A ringing echoed in his ears, and he could feel the blood drain from his face, his hands becoming sweaty. Licking his lips, Ivar stuttered, "Ar–are you sure? This cannot be taken back."
Elli smiled softly. "Yes, but doing it with you makes sense. I want this to happen." She stated plainly, ignoring the rapid blinking of the Ragnarsson beside her. Standing up, Elli brushed off the dust from her dress and began to walk away. Realising the cripple had not started to follow her, she paused, turning back to see his gobsmacked face. "Well, are you coming or not?" She questioned. Elli did not wait for his response as she sauntered away, but the tell-tale sound of rapid dragging followed her footsteps.
†
Laying back on the bed, the woollen fleece itched and irritated his bare skin, but he ignored it in favour of staring at the woman perched on top of him, naked as the day she was born. Her trembling thighs rested atop of his, the silence surrounding them.
The two gawked at each other, the flickering fire illuminating their bodies and casting shadows around the room. Exhaling, Ivar lay there, not touching her. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He muttered, his hands twitching by his sides, desperate to touch her. Swallowing heavily, Elli nodded rapidly. Ivar chuckled lowly, his quaking hand trailing up her soft thigh, causing the woman to shudder. "I need to hear your words, Elli."
Elli leant down, her hair covering her bare breasts as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "I want this, Ivar," she rasped. "I want you."
Nodding to himself, Ivar saw the honesty glistening in her eyes. Licking his lips, the young prince pushed onto his forearms, bringing his face close to hers.
Elli could feel his rushed breath on her face and shuddered, worried he could hear the hurried beating of her heart. Leaning down, the young woman closed her eyes as their lips met. It was a firm but gentle kiss, unsure and tentative. Yet, it was comfortable... right. As the pair grew more confident, Ivar's shaking hand left her thigh and moved to her waist, gripping her tightly. His hand blindly reached up and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her close, their bodies pressed against one another in a warm embrace.
Elli's toes curled; his face grasped between her hands. She wanted more. She needed it. Instinctually, her body ground down on him, searching for relief. Ivar pulled away with a groan, throwing his head back. Elli did not let go of his face, but her eyes widened. Between her damp folds rested a hard, rigid penis. Raising a brow, she carefully rolled her hips. "Elli!" He moaned.
Elli smirked as Ivar paused, huffing and puffing. His eyes were blown wide, staring at the dim ceiling as he realised what had happened, what he thought would never happen. He had an erection.
As Ivar lay there, stunned, Elli began trailing her way down his stomach, leaving kisses and nibbles as a footprint of her path, licking stripes in the dips of his abdomen as roads. Ivar was knocked out of his daze and let out unsteady breaths as Elli became face-to-face with Ivar's member. It was engorged and larger than she had expected, a pretty pink tip atop a thick, veiny cock. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs.
Taking a deep breath, Elli leant down, running the flat of her tongue across his leaking tip. Ivar squirmed, hissing in pleasure. However, groans and gasps followed as Elli's tongue explored his throbbing length, stroking and sucking with her wet mouth, paying special attention to the thick vein that ran up his cock.
Elli rubbed her thighs together as her hand joined her mouth, her thumb caressing a slow circle around the head as she took languid, long strokes with her tongue, making his hips jerk and twitch.
Nodding to herself, Elli finally took Ivar's member in her mouth, both of them whimpering at the feeling. Ivar's head fell back, his parted mouth hung open, and eyes screwed shut as Elli's warm, wet mouth moved up and down his shaft. Elli tried to take all of him in her mouth but could not, gagging due to his considerable size, so her hand aided her, pumping up and down as she swirled her tongue around him.
Ivar cursed above her, digging his fingers into the damp fleece as grunts and shaky breaths emitted from him. Sneaking a glance down at Elli, he whimpered, seeing wide pupils already locked on him. The sight of her beautiful lips wrapped around his throbbing cock drove him wild. "Fuck," he groaned.
Yet, he swallowed the whine that threatened to escape him when she pulled away, a line of saliva still attached to his cock connecting to her mouth. Yet, a moan erupts when Elli begins to softly tug at his penis, rubbing it up and down. "I want to ride you now…" Elli whispered, eyes intently watching Ivar's reactions, how he whined and ground his hips in search of release; it made wetness drip from her folds and onto the bed.
Clearing his throat, Ivar stared into her eyes. "Well, if you are sure, what are you waiting for?"
Without another word, Elli climbed on Ivar, her body moving up his thighs, causing Ivar to bite his lip as he felt her moistness drag against him. Pushing her hips flush against his, Elli began to grind, circling her hips back and forth, searching for friction. The pair mewled, pawing at each other as she guided his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. As Elli ground on Ivar's cock, it nudged her clit every time, making her whimper and whine. The sound was intoxicating to Ivar. He reached up, gripping at her chest, tweaking one of her nipples and taking the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue.
Rasping, Elli reached down between them and grasped his dick, propping herself up and preparing to sink down on it. "Wait, wait..." Ivar whispered against her breast, holding her hips in place. "Are you sure?" Icy blue eyes peered up at her, a vulnerability in them that Elli had never seen before.
"Of course, I am sure." Elli declared as she sank down on Ivar's cock. Elli cried, for although she was wet and wanting, she had never been penetrated before, so an intense burning overtook her. However, Ivar had never felt something so tight, so warm wrapped around him. He wanted to thrust, chase that feeling, yet seeing tears leaking from Elli's eyes made him pause.
"No, no..." Ivar brushed the tears away, Elli sniffling as he grasped her face between his hands. He caressed her cheek, leaving kisses. "This will pass." He promised.
A watery chuckle left Elli. "And how do you know this?"
Smirking, Ivar trailed a hand up Elli's quivering thigh. "While you listen to women talk..." His hand etched closer to her sex, where he was still paused deep within her. "I listen to men talk."
A keening moan escaped her lips, high-pitched and breathless, as Ivar's thumb pressed on her clit. Rolling his fingers around, Elli quivered and squirmed. Slowly, Ivar moved his hips in time, matching her pace and never quicker. Soon, with patience and passion, the burn faded into a pleasurable stretch.
Elli pushed Ivar back onto the bed, removing his hand from her clit. Holding his shoulders, Elli began to bounce up and down, using his shoulders as an anchor to help her thighs, unsure with the new movement. The two friends locked eyes as Ivar lifted his glistening hand to his mouth, licking the moisture from in and around his fingers. Sighing, Ivar relished in the tangy taste, spurring him on and began to pound into her, grunting at the exertion and the feeling.
"Oh, Ivar," she whimpered, throwing her head back and exposing her glistening chest as she rocked her hips, chasing a feeling she had never felt before.
Ivar's hands kneaded her thighs, encouraging her to meet his fast pace as he pounded into her from below. "You're doing such a good job, Elli." He praised, grinding his throbbing erection deep inside her, loving how she mewled and bounced faster at his approval.
"Ivar, I– Ivar, I can't…" Her thighs burned, the steady up-and-down motion slowing as her legs trembled. She sobbed, her trembling fingers tracing her clammy abdomen and clutching her breasts, twisting her stiff nipples and whimpering.
Growling, Ivar released his bruising grip from the supple flesh of her hips. Grasping the back of her clammy neck, Ivar jerked her close, dragging their bare chests together as he latched onto the delicate skin of her throat, littering kisses and bruises. His cock slammed into her soaking core, squelching reverberating off the walls as Elli squealed. Her quivering arms collapsed, and she lay flat on Ivar, mumbling nonsense as Ivar huffed into her ear. "Fuck, you are such a good girl. Taking all of me so good," he babbled, licking a long stroke up her salty neck, his hips never slowing.
Tears welled in Elli's eyes as she reached a shaking hand between their sticky bodies to rub her throbbing clit. Weeping in relief, Elli moved her slim fingers furiously, feeling something building in her lower belly, setting every nerve in her body on fire.
Eyes locked on Elli's movements, her fingers drumming fast and her wetness leaking onto his shaking thighs, Ivar groaned. Tilting his hips off the bed, Ivar ploughed into Elli, gripping her wild hair and forcing her lips on his, their tongues dancing. "fuck–fuck–FUCK IVAR!" Elli screamed, the coil that had built inside of her finally snapping. Her pussy tingled, gushing wetness all over Ivar's pounding cock. Collapsing on top of the young Prince, Elli saw stars, her body twitching in the aftermath. Feeling her completion, tugging, and milking Ivar's solid erection, Ivar roared, his seed coating her convulsing inner walls. Elli mewled at the feeling, her cunt squeezing him, draining him of every last drop.
Sticky and sweaty, the young pair struggled to catch their breath, huffing and puffing.
While Elli was dazed, her body still quivering with aftershocks, Ivar stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. His hands stroked up her saturated back as he struggled to find words. Blinking away tears, the prince gazed down at his only friend. Shaking his head, Ivar planted a solid kiss on the forehead, wrapping his arms around her. Sighing, Elli snuggled into his muscular arms.
"Told you." Elli croaked, her throat dry and voice muffled in Ivar's grip.
Ivar just laughed, throwing his head back against the pillows. "Yes, my not-so-innocent Elli, you were correct." Stroking her cheek, Ivar raised her droopy head and was greeted with a lazy smile. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered.
Giggling, Elli pouted her lips, too weak to lift herself up. Leaning down towards Elli, Ivar barely met her lips when the door was flung open, slamming against the wall with a bang! "OH MY FUCKING ODIN!" Hvitserk yelled, shirt torn open, and jaw dropped.
#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok#ivar ragnarsson#ivar fanfic#ivar imagine#ivar oneshot#ivar fanfiction#ivar x oc#ivar x ofc#ivar x reader#ivar x you#ivar the boneless x ofc#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar lothbrok x ofc#ivar lothbrok x reader#ivar lothbrok x oc#ivar ragnarsson x ofc#ivar ragnarsson x reader#ivar ragnarsson x oc#vikings#vikings x ofc#vikings x reader#ragnar lothbrok#bjorn ironside#hvitserk ragnarsson#ubbe ragnarsson#sigurd ragnarsson#smut
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The Heathen and the Christian
Ivar the boneless x reader ( OC)
Word count: 3401
SUMMARY:When a young anglo-saxon meets Ivar in the woods, she thinks he is a nice innocent boy, only to be shocked when she finds out who he REALLY is and what he is capable of.
A/N:This is my 2nd time writing with Vikings. I hope yall like it. I am also apologizing for (possible) mistranslations of irish and icelandic. I might do a part two to this series cuz i like how its going. Also not readproof
1-Oh Cernunnos god of the forest bless me and guide me.
2- WAIT
3-That one is mine
4- Do that again and you`re dead
Wandering the woods at this time of the year, gave any passer-by a spectacular and magical scenery. The rays of sunshine were breaking through the branches, illuminating the forest in the most wonderful ways. Summer was without a doubt the best time of the year. The weather was finally favorable for farmers, crops were flourishing and nature was thriving. But there was a downside to it. This season naturally brought along raiding parties coming from the north, with the intention of pillaging and eradicating every village in sight of any gold or treasure.
Villagers were adivsed to be extremely wary of their surroundings, and in case of any suspicious sighting to report to the guards.
Walking out of the small one-room cottage, Frigyth took her woven basket, hanging it on her left arm and took steady steps towards the neighboring woods that surrounded her village. She was a young maiden, '' ready to be married'' according to her parents, who took her tasks very lightly. She came from a typical peasant family, with three other sisters and one brother. She was at that age where she cared more about enjoying life than actually being helpful around the house.
She begged her mother days in a row to let her go harvest some berries from the woods, seeing as that was her only opportunity to explore nature and relax a tad bit. She took her already forming path that led her into a meadow, hidden from view by some on-growing bushes. She found a larger boulder, and took a seat in a dent, placing her basket next to her. She had plenty of time to finish her task, she thought, so for now she could enjoy a little bit of warmth.
Clasping her hands in a prayer-way, she took a glance around her, making sure she was alone, and started chanting an old prayer she used to hear as a child from her grandmother.
Ó Cernunnos Dia na foraoise
beannaigh dom agus treoraigh
mé tríd an bhforaois...
From a small distance, the prayer spoken by the girl was heard by a trespasser, that was lurking around in the woods seeking some alone time. Instead, the stranger took a detour and followed the voice, leading him into the hidden meadow. upon his arrival, he analyzed the young lady up closely, noticing how she had her eyes closed, and was in a vulnerable state. It would`ve been very easy for the young Viking leader to take his dagger out and kill her on the spot, which was what he should be doing, otherwise he risked getting noticed by the saxon girl, who in return would alert the whole village of the presence of Vikings.
Or perhaps he could kidnap her, get any valuable information out of her and THEN kill her. That seemed like a better idea.
The warrior got lost in his thoughts for a few moments that only when he heard the girl gasp did he snap back to the current situation he was in. The young woman that was not so long ago sat in a peaceful position was now standing up, grabbing her basket in front of her, as if she thought it would protect her from the unknown boy. You did not need to be a schooled noble to notice that the stranger`s attire was different from the regular anglo-saxon clothing, and the weapons well secured around the belt hugging his waist were a big tell-tale sign that she had just ran face to face with a Viking.
Frigyth was not sure what she could possibly do to escape this situation. If she ran, would she meet other Vikings? Or perhaps if she yelled for help, the barbarians would much faster come in to the aid of the mysterious boy and do her in. Her mind along with her heart were racing, blood pulsing through her whole body, as if it was preparing for whatever would happen next. Feeling a giddy feeling in her stomach, she spotted her way out, then she got into a running position, one leg in front of the other, slightly leaning on it and being ready to sprint at any given time.
The Viking however, seemed too lost in his tracks to think of what he should do to her. He was observing her. Long, curly hair, with a vibrant color that glimmered in the sun. He felt sort of... entranced by her?
Before he let her go, he wolf whistled at her, gaining her attention. '' I am Ivar.'' He spoke in a very thick anglo-saxon accent. Frigyth did a double-take, not being sure she actually heard him speaking in HER language. While on the outside she remained frozen, her mind was filled with multiple questions. Probably because she has never heard foreigners speak her language- or because she has never faced a norman before.
'' What is your name?'' Asked the Viking in an iritated tone. The young girl was not sure it was a good idea to tell divulge her full identity. But realizing she had no other choice, she defeteadly answered.
'' Frigyth.'' It was a simple and short answer, for which she hoped it would suffice. But by the looks on the warrior, he smirked slowly at her, watching with predator eyes as she was shifting uncomfortably her weight from one foot to the other.
'' What was that prayer you were saying earlier? It did not sound like your language.'' The maiden`s heart started beating at an alarming rate. Deep down she knew, that the prayer she was chanting earlier was considered heresy and it was forbidden among the christians. But it`s not like him, a Viking, would go and tell on her to a guard. After all, weren`t they pagans as well?
'' It`s an ancient language. I was praying to Cernunnos, the god of the forest, fertility. I- It`s forbidden to pray to any other god other than the One True God. But my grandmother used to tell me that the old Gods never left and are ever present.'' She finished, admitting what has been laying in her heart for many years, sighing in happiness when she mentioned her grandmother.
To say Ivar was shocked at the newfound information was an understatement. In all his life, he had never encountered a christian praying to a different deity. He was getting more and more intrigued by the girl, and the logical part of his brain that was constantly nudging him to kill her was shutting down completely.
The young leader-who had previously found a good sitting spot on the grass- nudged his head towards the empty place next to him, indicating to her to take a seat. With careful, calculated steps, she approached him, leaving a few centimetres between them, just in case he was going to strangle her, or who knows what else.
'' So... tell me...'' He trailed off, in hopes that the girl would tell him something about herself.
With frowning brows, she kept silent, waiting for him to continue with a question. Ivar rolled his eyes, and asked her about her family.
'' We`re but a family humble peasants .'' The Viking could tell she loved cutting straight to the chase, not giving out any other detail unless asked.
Gaining all the courage she could muster, she turned slightly towards him, asking the dreaded question.
'' Where did you come from?''
Raising his eyebrows, Ivar chuckled darkly, shaking his head softly.
'' I don`t think you want to know.'' He admitted cynically.
'' Will that get me in trouble?'' She asked shyly.
'' You could say that.'' Smiling softly, Frigyth directioned her eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the burning stares of the curious Viking whose hand was slowly reaching up to her face, pausing for a second and taking a hold of a piece of her hair, and twirling it around his finger -almost lovingly so- which made her flinch for a second, before relaxing back and letting him play with strands of her hair.
The atmosphere between the two was peaceful, even though there was silence, but it was a welcoming one, in which neither felt the need to interrupt it. It was as if an unspoken rule was set. Both simply wanted to sit down and get lost between the thousands of trees and take a break from their societal obligations. Ivar leaned back on his elbows, straightening his legs in front of him, to give them a stretch, which gave the girl a full view of his crippled legs. She widened her eyes in surprise, but quickly gained her composure when she noticed Ivar clenching his jaw in anger, averting her eyes elsewhere.
It felt like they were there for an hour or two, when Frigyth sighed sadly and stood up, clenching the handle of the backet in her left fist and started taking small steps towards the hidden entrance marked by two bushes with a beaten track in between them. Ivar frowned, his eyes following her figure sharply, similar to a wolf following his prey.
'' I should go.'' Looking at her feet, she was swinging the basket slowly in her hand, as if waiting for the boy to stop her from going, although, deep down, she knew she was running behind with her tasks and she was bound to return home eventually, and her mother would not be happy if she came back empty handed.
Ivar nodded stoically, breaking his eyes from the girl and with a loud groan, he rolled onto his back, and began crawling towards the girl, ignoring her stares of bewilderment at his methods of traveling.
'' I should probably go too.'' He responded and begudgingly so.
'' It was nice meeting you.'' Frigyth complimented, with a small voice.
'' We will meet again, christian.'' He winked at her, which caused the maiden to let out a nervous laugh, having no idea what he could have possibly meant by that, and on that note, they both departed their own ways.
Upon her arrival back home, she was welcome by her worried mother, who seemed to have a look of concern mixed with irritation displaying across her face.
'' Where have you been?! It`s almost dark outside. And what is this? This is all you gathered in all this time you were gone?!'' She pointed at her basket, which was barely filled with any berries.
Frigyth shrugged off the hand her mother had placed on her shoulder, sprinting inside the cottage. The one-room hut was warm and all her family was gathered round at the table, chatting lively amongst eachother. Her presence was sensed by her father, and one by one her siblings all paused mid-conversation, to look at the newcomer. Her father smiled warmly at her, motioning with his hand to take a seat next to him.
'' We were wondering when you would come back Frig. Your mother was worrying terribly.'' He laughed, patting her back twice.
'' And I had all the reasons to. You know what they tell us, the priests. The woods are no longer safe.'' Her mother huffed angrily, stepping into the cottage and slamming the door shut, checking the small window incorporated in it for any intruders that might be lurking outside their homes. She took her seat, next to her husband and continued eating her freshly cooked pottage.
Frigyth`s father let out a breath of air, rubbing his face with his face. The rebel daughter rolled her eyes, pretending to be oblivious to what her mother was saying. Should she tell anyone that today she has met and spoken to a possible Viking? If she did, then she would reveal to everyone that she had been slacking rather than actually gathering food for the family, and she risked losing the task she was given, and probably forced to return to her old duties, which were mostly around the cottage. So she took the smarted option, and never mentioned the encounter with the stranger.
'' I know. Aelflead and the other blacksmiths think that we are to prepare for an attack.'' The father confessed sadly.
'' What makes you think that, dad?'' The youngest sibling asked, with her curious natured eyes.
'' Because sweetie, we have been ordered by the king to forge as many swords and shields as fast as we can manage. But when we tried asking the guards why, he refused to tell us. They were all acting suspicious.'' He shrugged, ripping a piece of the wholemeal bread and dipping it in the stew.
Frigyth was starting to get nervous. What if they are about to be attacked? But again, Ivar did not look dangerous. Evenmore, he was crippled. Surely that meant he was maybe thrown out of his tribe and forced to die alone. And even if she decided to tell her family about her encounter, in what way would that help them escape the fury of a Viking raid?
The contact she had with the mysterious boy was what kept her awake most of the night, and by the time her body was exhausted and allowed her to fall asleep, the rooster was already crowing, alerting the family that it was dawn and that meant time to go back to work. However, something felt odd. While Frigyth`s family members were grumbingly getting out of bed, the young maiden heard screams and clanks of swords outside. When realization hit her, she alerted her family to be silent for a second in order for them to pay attention to what might have been going outside.
''Haeddi, take the girls and hide in the barn. Wilfred and I are going outside to see what is happening.'' The father instructed his wife. ''Here, grab this.'' He threw a newly forged seax to his son, and he took an old rusty looking blade for himself, gesturing with his head towards the door. '' Let`s go.'' With one solemn look, Frigyth`s father glanced at his girls, holding a strong and loving eye contact with his wife, silently reassuring her that everything was going to be all right.
When the girls were left alone, Haeddi looked at her daughters, trying to contain the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. '' We`re going outside. Stick close to each other. Once we reach the barn, find a hiding spot. Underneath the hay, behind it. I don`t` know. But do it as fast as you can. We don`t know what awaits us out there.'' The four girls looked at her mother, nodding shakily and following closely behind her towards the door. The mother was counting with her fingers how many seconds they had left before she would open the door and the chaos would start. Frigyth could hear the faint screams of terror coming from the villagers and once the door was open and they started running, everything went in slow motion. The action outside became more vivid. The shrieks and cries of pain were amplified and all of those made the girls run faster than they had ever done so in their entire lives.
Once they safely reached the barn, her mother grabbed the youngest offspring and she chucked them both behind some haystacks. The other two sisters went off climbing on a ladder and finding a safe space to bury in.
Frigyth was looking around, trying to find the first hidin place and duck under it, but to her terror, she was forcefully grabbed by her arm by a very muscular man, that looked like he could eat her alive. She gulped, eyes wide open and heart drumming against her chest, almost as if it was ready to jump out of her chest. He gave her an animalistic smile, that sent shivers down to her spine. Her sisters and mom were watching terrified from the hiding spots how poor Frigyth was going to get killed...or worse.
With an unmatchable force, he turned her around with her back facing him, and raising his axe and readied himself to cut her thin linen dress open, ignoring her pleas and screams to stop, but a powerful voice made him pause mid-action.
''BÍÐA!'' Both the cruel man and Frigyth turned their heads to look at whoever just stopped the brutal Viking. The girl couln`t believe her eyes. Sitting in a single seated strange looking carriage pulled by a beautiful white stallion, sat the very guy that around this time the other day she was enjoying her time with in the meadow.
''ÞESSI ER MINN!!'' Ivar approached the enormous barbarian and pulled him away from his victim by his hair, holding his dagger against his throat.
''Gerðu þetta aftur og þú ert dauður!!'' He spat with venom, letting go of him. When he looked at the shaken lady, he softened his eyes, offering a friendly hand for her to take. She shakily shook her head no, losing any trust she had in him.
Seeing how reluctant she was, Ivar huffed annoyed. '' If you come with me, you`ll be safe.'' He promised. She glanced back at her mother and sisters-who were terrifyingly and confusingly observing the interaction between the two-, looking back and forth between them and him. He instantly put two and two together, and rolled his eyes playfully. '' They will not be harmed IF... you come with me.''
But before she had any chance to speak, her father and brother came rushing to her aid. Wilfred, her brother, seemed unharmed, except for a few cuts here and there and some blood staining his blade, but her father seemed to have a pretty deep cut on his side, that was bleeding alarmingly.
'' STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!'' Her father yelled, pointing his old and chipped sword at the Viking.
Ivar mockingly raised both his arms in surrender, faking a terrified expression. After a few moments, he then grabbed his trusty dagger, swirling it smoothly around his finger and pointing behind him at the army that was currently ravaging the village.
''See that? I am the leader of all of them. I can order them to stop anytime if I want to. That is why I am asking YOU again.'' He pointed his dagger in Frigyth`s direction. '' Are.You.Coming.With.Me?'' He asked slowly, putting an emphasis on each word, to ensure he was being understood.
The curly haired girl looked with saddening eyes at her dad, who was still clutching his sword with all his being, as if believing THAT could actually help her, then at her brother, who was copying his father`s movements, but with less confidence and then at her mother and sisters, who were all shaking their heads no and crying silently, not knowing what the outcome of this woul be.
There was no backing out of this. She had two simple but impactful choices. She either went with him, probably ending up a slave, but at least her family was safe, or so she hoped. Or she could refuse, and get killed by the previous Viking.
With determined steps, she approached Ivar, making him smirk in victory. Her father yelled at her angrily to get back there behind him, but she was already climbing Ivar`s carriage. The young ruler grabbed her hand softly, guiding her to sit on his knees, that she now got to observe, were covered in some sort of metallic braces.
Once she took her seat in his lap, he stroked her hair with one hand, while whispering in her ear. ''Good girl.'' She sat frozen in his lap, letting him wrap a strong arm around her waist to keep her steady.
She took a one last glance at her family, waving sadly at them and struggling to keep her composure.
'' They will be safe, right?! You promised!'' She asked desperately, glacing back at her house, which was now growing to be more and more far away.
'' On my arm ring.'' He pledged, placing his palm over his bracelet for a moment, showing her that he was serious about his oath. Grabbing with one arm the reins and with the other gripping her tightly against him, he yelled something in Old-Norse to the other men, fleeing the village afterwards towards an unknown location to the girl, from where a new life was about to start for her. She could only hope it was going to be good.
#vikings#ivar lothbrok#ivar#ivar the boneless#ivar x reader#ivar x you#ivar x oc#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless x oc#fluff#possessive#dark ages
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Ravenblade - Part 2 // Ivar Lothbrok x OC
Summary: As Björn would like to keep an eye on his mysterious sister, she has her sights set on someone completely different, to the surprise of her brother and his.
Warnings: Language, Description of violence, light smut (implied but not fully described)
Pairing: Ivar x OC
A/N: Here is the second chapter :) Still, let me know if you wanna be on the tag list ;)
Masterlist
That evening the great sacrifice takes place, which is supposed to bring victory to the Vikings over the Saxons. Some Earl has decided to sacrifice himself for the cause, and Liv now stands beside her big brother and his brothers before the ceremony.
"You still owe me an answer," Bjorn whispers to her as they wait for Lagertha.
"I don't owe you anything," she says, continuing to look straight ahead.
"I still want to know why you're doing this and whose side you're on."
Now Liv looks at her big brother. "I am on Ragnar's side. I am doing this to avenge his death. Nothing more, nothing less."
"But why?"
"Have you seen him in the last ten years? No? Well, I have. And I have my reasons. But let my reasons be mine."
Then, as Lagertha begins to speak in the old language up front, Liv notices Björn slinking away. She doesn't care, but now she is standing next to Ivar. She looks at him briefly, and her eyes meet his. She grins briefly before turning her attention back to the front.
Lagertha is now sacrificing the Earl. Liv watches closely. It somehow fascinates her how her mother pushes the sword further and further into the man's chest.
Liv looks enthusiastically at Sven, who looks at her with a slight smirk. She feels Ivar's eyes on her. Liv likes it when a man is interested in her. It makes it all the easier to manipulate him. But with Ivar, it is something else. Somehow she feels drawn to him.
Once again, her gaze wanders to him, who is also looking at her with his deep blue eyes. A smile creeps onto her face.
When the ritual ends, Liv sees Ivar in front of the large bowl of blood. She walks up to him and stands next to him.
"May I?" she then asks, pointing to the blood. Ivar looks at her in surprise and then nods hesitantly.
Painting blood on someone is a sign of affection. Liv taps two fingers each into the blood and then looks Ivar in the eye before wiping her fingers across his face. Ivar closes his eyes briefly and then looks at her again. They maintain eye contact for a moment before Ivar dips his fingers in the blood and then does the same to Liv.
From a distance, they are watched by Björn and Ubbe. "I don't like this," murmurs Ubbe. He is not comfortable with the young warrior and does not trust her.
Björn shakes his head with his arms crossed. "She's manipulating him. That's what she's good at."
"Normally, I wouldn't have thought of Ivar as someone women so easily manipulate, but with her... I'm not so sure," the younger of the two concludes.
When everyone has retired to sleep before leaving, Liv sneaks out of the hut she and the Ravenblade have been assigned. She walks through the deserted town and creeps towards one particular hut.
Carefully she listens at the door and hears nothing. Then she opens it quietly and squeezes through a small crack. In front of her on a chair lies Hvitserk, snoring heartily. The position can't be comfortable, Liv thinks to herself and tiptoes past him. Then she stands in front of two doors. She briefly points her finger at both and then decides on the first one.
Silently she opens it, and to her luck, it is the room she was looking for. But to her surprise, he is sitting, still awake, with his back to her, and seems bent over something. Still silent, Liv closes the door again and takes a few steps toward her.
"You're quiet, but I know you're here," Ivar says suddenly, then turns to her.
She looks at him with raised eyebrows, a smug smile on her face. "But only because I wanted you to," she says, winking at him.
"What are you doing here?" he asks then.
Liv takes a few steps across the room, looking at what he owns. "Oh, I felt like company..."
Ivar follows her closely with his gaze. He can't figure her out. Liv walks up to him and stops in front of him. She leans down to him and looks him in the eye.
"Don't you want my company?" she asks directly.
"I... Uh..." he stammers briefly, which throws him off.
"I can leave as well," she says, standing up again and walking towards the door.
"No!" he says quickly. "No. Please stay."
Liv smiles at him and then walks back towards him. She pulls a chair towards her and sits in front of Ivar, so they are at eye level. She is so close to him that her knees touch his, and she has placed them to the left and right of his legs.
"Tell me something about yourself, Ivar the Boneless. That's what they call you, isn't it?"
Ivar nods, slightly befuddled, then looks away. "They do..."
"You don't like the name? I think it's a great one. Not as boring as 'the feared' or 'the cruel'. Most of the time, they don't live up to their names anyway, but you... You're different."
Ivar looks her in the eye again and notices that Liv is getting closer to him. Suddenly she puts her lips to his, and he enjoys it briefly before pulling away from her again.
Slightly ashamed, he looks to the floor and bites his lips. "I can't..." he says, turning away from her. "If you're looking for that kind of company, I'm the wrong guy..." he continues seriously, and Liv looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
"What are you trying to say? If I want to spend time with you, I want to spend it with you, not with someone else."
Ivar looks at her again, and Liv can tell he is incredibly uncomfortable. "I can't... I can't do this. It."
Liv continues to look at him without making a face. Ivar would have expected something else. Either she would laugh at him or feel sorry for him, but nothing of the sort comes from Liv.
"Have you also been told that a deaf person cannot communicate?" she asks, and Ivar does not know what she is getting at. She takes a deep breath and then moves closer to him again. "How many times have you tried? With how many women?"
"Only with one, and it didn't work," Ivar says quietly.
Now Liv begins to laugh softly. But it's not that she's laughing at him, but rather at his pathetic attempt.
"And that already tells you it can't be done?" she asks, kneeling before him.
She starts to undo his trousers, and Ivar grabs her wrists. "What are you doing?" he asks, irritated, but she grins at him.
"I'm trying to prove you wrong." Hesitantly, Ivar lets go of Liv's wrists, and she expertly undoes his trousers.
Ivar feels the lust rising in him and his body changing. She looks him in the eyes and then begins to massage him slowly. Her movements become faster and her grip tighter, but Ivar doesn't mind. Then she winks at him and lowers her head.
It is not long before Ivar can no longer hold on. His body tenses, and he opens his mouth. He tries to stifle a moan and then looks down at Liv, who is just breaking away from him.
She straightens up again, grabs a piece of cloth lying on the table, and wipes her mouth and hands before looking at him triumphantly.
"What did I say? I guess it all comes down to technique."
With those words, she tosses the rag back on the table, winks at Ivar one last time, and then leaves the hut. Ivar looks after her in disbelief. How is he supposed to keep his hands off her now?
The following day the time has come. The enormous army leaves for England. All along the docks, people are saying goodbye to their loved ones.
Liv walks towards the dock where her boat is moored and stops as she passes her brother's ship. It is right opposite hers. Lagertha is standing there with Björn, saying goodbye to him.
"Oh, how sentimental," she says with amusement, and Lagertha looks at her. As always, Liv has uncovered her sarcastic smile.
"I just wish him good luck on his journey, and may the gods watch over him," Lagertha justifies herself. "Wouldn't you like someone to say that to you?"
"I don't need that... I know the gods are with me. I don't need someone like you to tell me that. And luck is for beginners." Liv walks over to her ship and then looks at Ivar momentarily. "Hello, Ivar," she says, winks at him, and then hops onto her boat.
"Well, folks? Are you ready?" she asks the crowd, where her people are already busy making final arrangements for departure.
"Here you are," Sven says, coming up to Liv. "Where were you tonight?" he asks more quietly, looking at her.
"Oh, here and there," she replies, and her gaze briefly wanders to Ivar, who keeps looking at her.
Sven follows her gaze and glares at Ragnar's son. "Were you with him?" he asks, following Liv across the boat.
"Even if I was, it's none of your business Sven, understand?" she says more seriously now.
She is always very relaxed with her people, but if someone tries to undermine her authority or gets too nosy, she is good at putting a stop to it. Now Liv turns to her whole troop.
"It's finally time!" she shouts, then climbs a mast. "We are travelling to England, and we will avenge the death of Ragnar Lothbrok! Until now, you have followed me, and I hope you will continue to follow me! We are the Ravenblade! Du bekar! Du bekar!" shouts Liv, and her men and women cheer.
From the other boat, Ivar watches her closely. She is a true leader, and one day, she will be his.
With anticipation, Liv waits for her cue. It is a grandiose plan; she has to admit. The first troops of the great army get ready and line up. Then it's their turn. She stands up and leads her Ravenblade up the hill as well.
The shieldmaiden lines up not far from the sons of Ragnar and grins. She loves fighting and slaughter. She turns her sword once in her hand and draws the shield closer as Ivar stops beside her in his chariot.
He looks at her briefly but then directs his gaze forward. And then Björn gives the signal. Together they run off into battle.
After the battle, Liv climbs onto the chariot with Ivar. Behind him, they have tied King Aelle, and he is now being pulled through the mud by Ivar. Liv smiles triumphantly at Ivar and then looks ahead again.
As Ivar comes to a stop, the other sons of Ragnar lift Aelle out of the mud. Ivar also turns on his buck and watches while Liv jumps from the chariot. The Boneless One watches her movements closely.
She seems to be examining where they are when Björn asks Aelle about the location of Ragnar's death. The anxious king looks at a place where Liv is already standing, and she then points to the ground with a nod. She steps on the floor with her foot and notices wood under her feet. She pushes the leaves back and forth and then looks at the king.
"Is this the place?" she asks in English. Liv has learned many different languages on her travels. The king looks at her and then nods hesitantly. "This is it," she says to Björn, and he asks his men to open the hatch.
Together they look inside. Ivar has now joined them as well.
"This is the place where our father was killed," he says, looking at his brothers.
The brothers exchange a look, and then Aelle looks at Björn. "How much gold and silver do you want to spare my life?" he asks tremblingly. "Name a price! Anything, anything you want!"
Liv laughs out loud. She bites her lip and waits anxiously for her big brother's answer. But then Ivar interferes.
"You are mistaken! Our father was worth much more than gold and silver." Then he looks to the king. "That is not the price you must pay."
The king knows fully that he is done for and begins to weep. Liv, meanwhile, looks at Ivar, who returns her gaze. Again, a nasty smile creeps onto her lips.
Then Floki grabs the king by the collar and forces him to his feet.
"I was told that your god was a builder. And you don't believe it, but so am I!"
A little later, Floki nails the king by the hands to posts so that Björn has a clear path to his back. Liv knows precisely what is coming now. She stands in front of the king and looks at him disparagingly.
Then Björn tears the king's tunic off and cuts his back open. He cries out in pain, and Liv looks briefly at her brother. When he looks at her, she raises an eyebrow, then turns around and sits down on a tree stump.
Liv watches tensely, and suddenly she notices how Ivar is next to her and creeps closer and closer to the king. Blood splatters around with every blow of Björn's axe, but Liv doesn't care. She is covered in blood anyway. She sees the fascination in Ivar's gaze and watches him momentarily.
With each successive blow, the life drains more from Aelle until the king is dead.
"I didn't think he'd last this long," Liv whispers to Ivar as she leans down to him.
Ivar looks at her briefly, and enthusiasm is reflected in his eyes. He is probably more like Liv than she thought.
The following day, the lifeless body with its open back hangs over their heads, finally wiping the blood from its face with a scrap of cloth. Ivar sits with Floki on his back, and they all look at the pathetic king.
"Come on... Another king is waiting for us," Björn says and trudges off.
Liv looks at Sven, who is eyeing her critically. She walks towards him.
"If you have something to say, say it," she demands.
The big man looks at her momentarily but then shakes his head.
"Thought so," she says, then follows her brother.
It's beginning to get on her nerves that Sven always looks at her with that reproving look.
#Vikings#Vikings Fanfic#Ivar x OC#Ivar x Reader#Ivar the Boneless x OC#Ivar the Boneless x Reader#Ivar Lothbrok x OC#Vikings Fandom#Ivar the Boneless#Ivar Lothbrok#Part 2#Ivar Fanfic#Ivar the Boneless fanfic
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Estrid Ragnarsson x Ivar the Boneless
↳ for @megandaisy9 as part of her gift exchange!
#vikings#vikings oc#Ivar the Boneless#Ivar the Boneless x oc#katherine langford#original character#ocappreciation#ocapp#allaboutocs#ochub#oc x canon
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She Is A Lady (Ivar x Targaryen Reader)
Ivar has always been such an interesting character to me so imagine how delighted I was when I got my first request for him. Also I would like to announce that I will not be accepting any more requests for daemon Targaryen as of right now cause i have written so many and I have also others that I must write. Enjoy!
Y/n) had always been an adventurous character, ever since she could walk she would wobble away from everyone, curiosity fuelling her little chubby legs, when she got a little older and was able to get on her dragon, Rhaenyras's heart raced as she waited patiently for her daughter to come home.
She was her father's daughter, stubborn, brave, and resilient, “the noble she-dragon” was her title when she would often be referred to in the songs of barbs, she would smirk under her cloak as she would often cover herself to visit the small taverns.
When war called for her (y/n) defended her mother with the fierceness of a dozen warriors, however, the pain of losing her brothers one by one, her dear Daemon who taught her so many things, her grandmother Rhaenys, she could not risk the death of her mother.
“We can still fight dear”
“Mother our troops have fought fiercely for so long, most of our men are dead, we need an alliance”
“What if they kill you?”
“Then I’ll let my brothers know how much you love them and we will be waiting for you, my queen”
Rhaenyra overcomes with emotion fell into her daughters' arms in desperation, her precious little girl was now grown up. (Y/n) hugged her mother back with the same amount of love, she hated the fact that she had to leave her mother's side, but this was their last resort.
Rhaenyra pulled away slightly, her fingers reaching for the few strands of Dark hair that were entangled between her Targaryen silver hair, a small token she had inherited from her late father.
“Promise me you will come back to me”
“I won’t come alone, I’ll come with an army to protect you”
-
(Y/n) had searched for inhabited land beyond the wall for a full day, the sun had been tucked away and replaced by the moon when she noticed a land lit by torches, it would unwise to make a haste landing without a warning first, for all she knew this land could be home for cannibals or demon worshippers.
(Y/n) commanded her dragon to fly a bit lower, circling the city to make her presence known, not only did the people notice her, as they had gathered around for supper to celebrate their victory, they rose from their seats to follow the beast that appeared to make landing a bit further down.
“I am unharmed, well… except the dragon”
“Who are you?”
“Princess (y/n) Targaryen, I come from kings landing”
The men came to a standstill with the princess, both parties waiting for a sudden move so they can “defend” their own, you could only hear the sound of the fire from their torches and their breaths created a mist from the cold.
“I understand this is sudden for you but I have come in peace, I have been traveling on dragon back since dawn, it would be certainly easier for me to explain after I get some type of food if you could be so kind to offer one”
The dim light was not enough to reveal the contraption Ivar was using to stand up on his legs, his eyes piercing through hers in such intensity that (y/n) felt like the man was trying to look into her brain, still she did not waver, she challenged him with her strong look she beheld on those intriguing hues, her flame could be identified from a mile away, this was not a meek princess, she came flying in a beast and stood by it proudly, she was a true warrior sent from the Gods.
“Fine, princess. Leave your sword and dragon here and then you can follow us”
Of course, he knew she was lying, he saw the sword that rested on her hip the minute she got on the ground, intrigued by the astonishing beast she came with he decided to offer her sanctuary.
To his surprise, the princess took out her sword before she came on one knee with it laying flat on her palms.
“This has been given to me by a beloved family member, I do not wish to leave it unattended but I trust you with it, Ser”
“Ivar, Ivar the boneless”
Her face showed exactly how puzzled she was by the nickname the name claimed that he was holding, howbeit she did not have time to question it for long since from the first step Ivar took (y/n) picked up on the metal sound and observed just how stiff his walking as she realized that the man was probably barely able to stand up, his entire weight was supported by a delicates design of metal that went all the way up to his thigh.
Ivar smirked at the sight of the woman offering her sword, she seemed smart enough according to her calculated moves, the sword felt light in his hand as it shined under the moonlight, arrogantly he pointed the tip of the sword directly under her chin, his ego allowing him to consider that he had the upper hand.
(Y/n) gently placed the weapon away from her face and rose to her feet, she had been nothing but gracious she would not allow herself to be disrespected.
“Lead the way, my lord”
She simply suggested, she concealed her facial expression well though the devil was always in the details, Ivar could see her hands forming into fists.
“Welcome to Kattegat princess”
He turned his back on her while she took small steps to stay behind him, she did not want to offend him by walking faster so her pace was slow enough to let him walk.
(Y/n)s eyes traveled around everything, people’s faces, their clothing, their tables, their homes, it seemed like everyone was living a simple life, it reminded her of the roads of kings landing.
Ivar could hear the whispers from his subjects, they were all taken back by Ivars sudden kindness, and they all expected him to kill her on the spot, he had to admit that the idea did go through his head, yet something in him told him to let her join their feast, maybe it was the fearsome dragon, maybe her alluring appearance.
Alas, (y/n) took a seat next to him, and quite swiftly the servants gave her a plate full of food and a goblet with ale, the chicken was warm and the ale did the trick of warming her up as everyone danced around the fire, a faint smile played on her lips while Ivar observed her.
“So what brings you here princess?”
“War I am afraid”
“War?”
“In my homeland, we have one king that rules over the land, my family has been been in that position for over a century, yet it is the very first time that a woman-my mother- is to assume authority, that did not go well with her half brother”
“So you ran?”
“I certainly have not, my brothers were killed, my stepfather, my grandmother… all gone”
Ivar felt sadness rush through his chest at how the princess's chin quivered, her hushed tone trembling as she uttered the last two words, her doe eyes misting in the firelight, Ivar was not known for his empathy, still, he reached for her hand under the table to give it a slight squeeze.
“My mother was killed by my father's first wife, she released an arrow while my mother was walking away”
“How did you respond?”
“Oh I’ve tried to kill her several times”
“It is quite macabre, how the family is always the one that causes the biggest pain”
“I suppose, if you are not running then what brought you here?”
“Desperation, countless battles have taken most of our men, I was hoping to look for allies”
“You described it perfectly, desperation is the only thing that could make someone believe that another army of men would come to die for you”
“My mother is all I have left, wouldn’t you do anything to bring your own back to life?”
“Definitely”
“It might sound cruel but forgive me for saying I do not crave to understand your pain”
She was honest Ivar gave (y/n) that much, they sat there gawking at one another, she stood tall, she did not waver under his eyes as most people did, she showed no signs of fear, she did not care about anything, and let’s not even start of how ambitious she appeared to be.
Ivar took a swig of his ale without looking away from those distinguish violet hues, he recalled how the prophets have whispered to him of a queen of a faraway land.
“Your queen will help you fly amongst the clouds, you’ll know lands beyond the eye”
He had brushed it off as a riddle, but now he started to understand that it was the only time the prophet meant every word, could she- princess (y/n) Targaryen- be his queen?
There, for only the briefest moment and for the first time he felt the warm sensation of his heart thumping at the mere sight of her smile, like Freya had come from the clouds to place her cloak around the two youngsters. For so long Ivar had brushed off the idea of love or marriage, sometimes he would even the joke that the goddess herself has cursed him or turned his back on him, cruelly denying him the blessing of a true loves match.
“I cannot throw my men to a war over lands I know nothing about”
“I figure that we will ride tomorrow”
“Ride?”
“We can strap you up on Daylight and you will be safe as a passenger”
“You mean I go up in that?”
“Hey, she is a lady”
Ivar cackled at her correction regarding her dragon. It had been a while since one was so casual with him, that treated him with kindness without fearing his outbursts, sure her ignorance of not exactly knowing his antics had something to do with it, albeit Ivar thoroughly enjoyed her presence, her wit and pride complimented her.
As (y/n) bit her bottom lip her gaze went over to his legs, she wanted to ask as silence overtook them, but she debated if it was the right decision.
“It’s not an injury, I was never able to walk”
“Brittle bones, the masters in my land had informed me of such condition. Back in the day, they used to kill babes that seemed to hold such an illness”
“Oh that is what happens here as well, my mother forbade it”
“She sounds like a lovely woman”
“She was”
(Y/n) could deeply empathize with the look that took over Ivars handsome face, how his expression clouded for just a moment, how his jaw tensed and his lips stiffened to a thin line, she could tell that Ivar was not looking at anyone particularly, he was reminiscing as moments that they shared passed through his ice blue hues.
Ivar was pulled back to reality by her gentle hand resting on his thing, usually, he would shove away anyone that dared to touch his legs, but surprisingly he just allowed his hand to find hers and rest on top of it, a part of him yearning for the warmth of her touch, her genuine interest and zest.
“I am certain she is very proud of you, I understand you two probably shared a very close bond”
“We did, but let’s not dwell on such events, you must rest I do not want the rider of such a large beast to fall asleep while they hold my life in the reigns of a dragon”
They smiled at one another, a grin that behind it was resting countless words left unsaid. Ivar was a stranger to the goodwill of people, although with her, as his eyes rested upon her features he felt like his anger vanished, like a wave that held her name washed through his experience with cruelty and even his brothers belittling him was now gone.
“This feels strange”
“I agree princess, but I do not want it to go away”
“Me neither”
She whispered, her eyes lowering down to the ground to avoid the foreign sensation that was Ivars presence. Ivar allowed her to retreat, as he looked around it dawned on him that a few of the others had also taken it to become viewers of their encounter, he could not blame them.
With some difficulty he rose from his seat with the goblet of Ale in his hand, demanding the attention of everyone to realign with their leader.
“It is with great honor that I present to you the princess (y/n) Targaryen, the future queen of her land, she has come to us with a request for an alliance, to fight alongside her army for a land we do not know. Tomorrow I will ride with the princess to see for myself that foreign land, as well as to marry her”
“What?”
“To unite our kingdoms, to rule by her side in her homeland and for her to rule by my side in mine, to give us a reason to help her. Raise your glass, to your future queen”
Requests are open!
#ivar imagine#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson x reader#ivar the boneless imagine#ivar au#ivar ragnarsson#ivar x ofc#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar x you#ivar x y/n#ivar#ivar x reader#ivar x oc#ivar vikings#ivar fluff#ivar fanfic#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd fic#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#house of the dragon#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon x reader#hotd season 1
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Winter
Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader
CW: suicide mentions, conflict
You wanted to be his again, not owned by him but a part of him. But it had been so long since you'd felt close to Ivar that it felt out of reach as he descended into rage filled madness
”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜
You were drifting apart more and more with every hastily made decision fueled by anger that Ivar made. He would curse you, berate you and you could do anything because you didn't trust that he wouldn't kill you himself. You knew something was deathly wrong when you kept finding yourself high on a hill looking over a rock face, moving closer to the edge every time and not feeling afraid. It was impossible to not feel that you were lost in the dark of Ivar's tyranny. But you still craved his adoration, his love and the affirmation that he only wanted you. All of these things would never happen now, you weren't good enough for him.
You needed him running through your veins like a sickness that couldn't be cured- a toxicity that fuelled your love and in turn, your hatred for him. You didn't want to need anyone, when you were younger your mother had always taught you to never need anyone more than yourself. To stay self-reliant and not let anyone control you but, it was impossible. When you met Ivar he was the son of Ragnar, a grumpy boy with no battle experience and a soft spot for you. Now, after 6 years of marriage you couldn't decide if you needed to try harder or just throw yourself on to that cliff face.
"It feels like he's trying to erase me, fade me out of his life and forget I was ever there." You told Helga as you sat descaling some fish with her.
"Ivar is… complicated, I'm sure I had this conversation with you when you started seeing him. He's a different type of person from us. Not as emotional," she tried to smile but could tell that her words weren't necessarily comforting.
"I was so convinced that he loved me then, that he would do anything for me. But he just wants power and money and meaningless sex, I just can't believe he deceived me into this marriage." Helga suddenly gripped your hand.
"This is not your fault. As you said, you were deceived by someone who claimed to love you. The boy has some kind of power. It pulls some people in and I don't know what it is but it captured you," She paused. "I think you should tell him."
"He wouldn't even see me, I can guarantee there's a thrall rooted to his lap right now." You clenched your teeth together and tried to hold in your rage.
"You need to let it out, your rage. Go to the top of a mountain and scream, allow yourself to feel it." Helga suggested and you nodded.
"What I really want is to have him, it's pathetic but I'm so in love with him it's hard to overcome." You placed down the fish and groaned.
"It will pass, and if it doesn't, meet someone else who will be more emotionally attentive. Ivar seems like the kind of man who needs other people's feelings laid out in front of him." Helga smiled and her dark rimmed eyes made contact with you as the two of you carried on with the fish.
Ivar was drunk out of his mind, two naked thralls sitting on his lap as he'd occasionally take their breasts into his mouth. Some days he would forget you were even his wife, you hardly saw each other. He wouldn't say it was an excuse for his behavior but it was definitely a promoting factor of it. You used to smother him, cover him in a blanket of affection and make him feel like no one could hurt him. Ivar didn't remember when that stopped but he also didn't remember when he began sleeping with other women. The crossover between the two was so seamless it made him feel less remorseful, as if your absence made his actions warranted.
When Ivar saw you walk into the Great hall he felt less than he thought he would. In some ways he was happy to see how miserable you looked, hopeful you'd come crawling back to him in pure adoration. Ivar couldn't think of a better way to gain a woman's affection than by making her jealous. Unaware of his ridiculous thought process, Ivar continued looking you up and down through his eyebrows. You could only glare back at him as you headed towards your room, but you annoyingly had to go past Ivar.
"You despise me, wife?" Ivar asked and you stopped in your tracks, sighing deeply.
"Yes." You said simply, even though you loved him you needed him to wake up.
"But… that's not. What?" He said confused, pushing the thralls to the floor, with a resounding yelp from both the women.
"What do you want, Ivar?" You looked at him with such disdain it genuinely surprised him.
"You cannot speak to me like that!" He yelled and you sighed again.
"Then kill me." You sounded defeated, you didn't care anymore. It would be easier for it to all be over so you didn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil of him.
"I'm not going-" he paused. "You are my wife! Why won't you respect me?" He yelled again and you almost winced at the level of noise he was making.
For a few moments all you could hear was the scrape of his crutch and the crackle of the fire, for a moment it felt surprisingly peaceful. You just wanted to exist in that scene, a beautiful fire with furs on the floor in front of it where the local children would sit and be told stories. There was such a serenity to watching children's faces as they listened to a story, they hadn't experienced the hurt or the pain. All they knew was that this was their favourite day because they could sit inside the great hall and feel important. Even Ivar couldn't take that sense of pride away from them.
"Are you going to say anything, wife?" Ivar broke the blissful silence and you couldn't quite believe how aggravating it all was.
"I hate you, I hate what you've done to me." Was all you said and he looked astonished.
"I won't have this bullshit!" He yelled even louder before calling for his guards. "Tie her to a tree in the forest." He swatted you away like you were a pest but, at this point you saw no reason to resist. Ivar would do whatever he wanted with his power and most of the time that would mean fucking you around.
Even the guards were uncomfortable as they threw a rope over a strong tree branch and tied you by your wrists so that your arms always had to be extended. It wasn't the worst punishment you could have got, you were surprised Ivar hadn't got a lust for blood when you disrespected him. He would continue to degrade you and debase you no matter what you did, even though you loved him it didn't matter anymore. Ivar was so consumed by greed or power or hatred for you that he couldn't focus on anything else.
Your heart felt cold and tight. There wasn't any room for any more love because you had given it all away to someone who didn't want it or didn't realise how much he needed it. In one breath you would hope that he would just come and kill you and in the other, you still hoped he would wait for you. That he would allow your coupling to at least attempt to survive. Sometimes when you were around Ivar, you would feel a tiny part of your body decompose. One part of you died because you couldn't hold on to someone who only wanted to break away from you. But all you wanted was to be taken back to when you were younger, you needed him, you wanted him and he would never be what he was again.
#ivar x reader#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar lothbrok#ivar ragnarsson#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson x oc#ivar ragnarsson x reader#ivar ragnarsson imagine#ivar ragnarsson angst#vikings ivar#viking imagine#vikings fanfic
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It Is You (Ivar The Boneless)
Ivar the Boneless drabble
Imagine you are the one that catches Ivar's eyes, not Freydis.
The crowd is overly excited by the army’s return to Kattegat, they had finally avenged the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. I had not taken long to recruit the great heathen army, and less to decimate the Saxons. Most of the hassle had been travel discrepancies and what to do after. Now with all that finally over, Vikings have a chance to celebrate victory. It is no surprise, then, when the great hall is completely packed with drunk people in the late hours of the night. The celebration of the great heathen army’s conquest is something to brag about, and Ivar the Boneless is doing precisely that.
You have never seen the Viking prince in person, considering that you are not a shieldmaiden, and could not go to avenge Ragnar. Also, you grew up in Ringerike, not Kattegat, thus you never encountered him during your childhood. You have heard the stories, though, not only the most recent ones about his victory against the Saxons, but also those speaking of his cruelty and quick temper. And so when you came to welcome your brother back from fighting in England, it was not in your plan to cross paths with Ivar the Boneless. However, once you entered the great hall, your destiny was entangled with his.
He is not the only man that stares at you more than he should, but his gaze is so intense that you can not shake it off. It burns through your skin like fire, stealing all of your attention from your brother’s words. When you look up, Ivar is already glancing your way. He does not smile or try to approach you like the rest of the men, he just stares. His look is heated but not loaded with anger, it is something else. No one has ever gazed at you like that, it has such desire and amazement. It makes you feel like a goddess. So, while your brother is still talking, you leave his side to introduce yourself to the cruel prince. That is the first step that changes your life.
Tags: @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering
#ivar ragnarsson#ivar the boneless#ivar x reader#ivar x you#ivar vikings#ivar imagine#ivar fic#vikings#vikings fic#vikings imagine#ivar lothbrok#ivar fluff#ivar x oc#vikings fluff#ivar ragnarsson x reader#vikings one shot#ivar ragnarsson x ofc#ivar lothbrok x reader#vikings drabble
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Could you do one where the reader is Lagertha younger sister and in a relationship with ivar the boneless
this. this is the one I might be the most excited for to write!
Thank you for your request :)
May the gods forbid.
Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader
Warnings: Language probably?
Words: 2.425
This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was. He wasn't supposed to happen. The gods were playing tricks on her, this couldn't be real. She wanted to hate him, hate how he despised her sister. He was a smartass, an arrogant little boy with anger issues if something didn't go his way.
One son of Ragnar was her greatest fear for her younger sister. Ivar. He was unpredictable and even though the girl was taught how to fight, Lagertha knew that she would not be good enough to protect herself from him. That was the main reason why Lagrtha forbid her sister to leave her side. Lagertha was always very protective of her, even more when the sons of Aslaug and Ragnar started planning to kill her or hurt her the same way she hurt them by killing their mother.
So one night when the girl was upset and searched for a place to hide away, she walked into the woods. Flokis and Helgas place always brought her the most comfort when her and Lagertha fought, those were the times she thought the girl was quietly in her chamber. Sitting down in a small meadow, she leaned back, watching the stars, inhaling the fresh air.
Rustling behind her made her hand quickly shoot to the dagger she kept on her thigh. "Well don't you look cozy." The cold voice of the prince made her flinch as she sat up completely, her body being on alert if he tried anything. "What do you want, Ivar?" The exhaustion from was as clear in her voice and how she said his name as it was on her face. She didn't want to live like this. To live a life that held nothing for her, since she wasn't allowed to do much. Even her nephew Björn was always watching over her when he was here.
Tilting his head Ivar studied her face for a second before crawling over to her and settling down besides her. "I decided I won't kill you." He pursed his lips looking over at her a playful glint in his eyes. "Not yet at least." A small smile pulled at her lips as she averted her face. "Ubbe told us about how Lagertha screamed at you. She was always quiet..." A stern glare from the girl made the boy hold his hands up in defense, a small smirk on his face as he saw her hand moving away from the dagger, finally starting to relax.
Ivar was a simple man, his plan to kill Lagertha was only left uncompleted due to his attraction to her little sister and now having her here in front of him was something he didn't know he longed for. Looking back up at the sky she sighed in frustration. "How is the world out there? You traveled didn't you?" Sitting up straight she turned to him.
The young princes eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled slightly. "The world is huge, it has so much to see." pouting slightly the girl cursed her sister as she listened to Ivars stories. He told her all about Wessex and the people there, how different their belief are from theirs, which she as well found hilarious. As the night turned colder they took the path back to their home. Not once did they stop talking about what he saw out there and what she would want to see once she'll get out there.
"Gods, I want to see the world, Ivar." Smiling softly she twirled and inhaled the fresh air. Watching her Ivar felt his heart swell at the sight of her carefreeness. "I want to show it to you." His tone was serious and when she looked at him she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Ivar..." Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking her head she sat down in the dirt near a haystack.
"We can't. Lagertha would never allow this. She wouldn't allow us, Ivar..." She was desperate for him to understand that this would never happen, but he was not having any of it. He would take what he want and if he wanted to have her, then he was going to have her. "Your sister does not control you, nor does anyone else. You should be able to live your life how you want it to be, the gods forbid that you won't live it to the fullest."
Looking around she kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll meet with you in the meadow tomorrow night, don't be late!" She turned around as she quickly ran to her chambers, smiling brightly at him before entering. The young prince couldn't help but grin at her actions, feeling a little giddy himself.
After that night they started sneaking around at night, only sharing small meaningful glances at each other when they passed one another or during a feast. Soon Lagertha grew suspicious, but not because she noticed any of the glances, no, it was because suddenly her sister started training more, stopped questioning her about being able to travel. It was as if she suddenly stopped caring about all that.
Ubbe offered to train with her, Lagertha trusted him so she allowed him to take her sister to the woods during the day as well. Ivar told his brothers about her and how he wanted to see her at any costs as much as he could. In the woods the four of them would train, Ivar didn't trust Sigurd close to her, due to disgusting glances he threw her way when she was merely visiting them over the past years.
She soon found herself growing closer to the brothers and feeling accepted by them. Freedom, was so close she could almost taste it. Walking with Ivar at night was her newly found escape, after he got his greave done for his legs and fixed up his crutches they could even hold hands while walking. Him rubbing her hand soothingly with his thumb, placing ocationally kisses onto her palm , whenever she talked about something that upset her. He enjoyed listening to her almost as much as her gentle kisses he would get to feel whenever his pain was unbearable.
They balanced each other nicely and after a few months the word marriage appeared more and more in their talks about their future. The girl was scared of how her sister would react to her and the youngest Ragnarsson being inseparable and spent every minute they could together.
But she didn't need to tell her, because one day during her and Ubbes training lessons, while she was play fighting with Ivar . Lagertha walked up the path, none of them noticed her sharp eyes watching. Ivar had her pinned down, laughing while she tried to push him of before rolling over and sitting on his stomach, having the prince at her mercy making her grin down at him.
Ubbe and Hvitserk were watching them, drinking ale and laughing at what the other said. Lagertha was disappointed in her, why didn’t she tell her that they were lovers? She continues watching them and filled an old familiar pain in her heart. Ivar was holding her sister now, not strong enough to hurt but strong enough to let her know he had control over the situation but her sister seemed completely fine with it as she leaned into his chest looking up at him with gentle eyes and a loving smile.
Ivars smile matched hers and in this exact moment Lagertha realized that she kept her sister protected from the most beautiful thing out there, a thing she herself shared with Ragnar even after his death. Love. Ivar was similar to Ragnar in many ways, but with her in his arms he resembled his father more than anyone would guess. Of course, she didn’t want her sister to be with someone like Ivar, he was dangerous, but if it is him that makes her as happy as she is right now, then that is all she would ask for.
Returning to her throne back in the great hall Lagertha couldn’t stop thinking about how she should’ve noticed the signs. Ivar was more around than he used to be, it wasn’t his normal behavior. Besides he was being a lot kinder than usual. As Torvi entered the great hall she noticed how lost in thoughts the queen was. „What is the matter?“ She said as she walked next to to sit down by her side. „Did you know about Ivar and my sister?“ Lagertha turned to Torvi catching the younger woman smile apologetic. „Ubbe said I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I apologize.“
As she heard giggles and laughter she could tell the four of them were coming closer, she prepared herself to confront her sister about this. But how was she supposed to? She was spying on her when she found out, not having had one good reason to walk out there in the woods except to check up on her actually being there. Ubbe was the first one to walk into the great hall, he noticed something was up when Torvi didn’t greet him right away. The girl was still outside giggling and whispering. Her whispers could be heard in the whole hall. Quietness settled in as the last three of them walked in, the girl walking a little behind but smiling brightly whenever Ivar would turn around to see if she was still there with him.
„Hello sister!“ The girl greeted and smiles brightly at Lagertha. The queen did not respond, making her feel uneasy as she glanced toward Ubbe, who sighed quietly looking down. Instantly the girl knew what was going on. Panicking she walked closer to her, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked back to Ivar in reassurance. „It isn’t like you think…“ Lagerthas raised an eyebrow making the girl feel even more uneasy. „Well then how is it? Because it looks like my sister is keeping secrets from me. Keeping secrets because she thinks I don’t want to see her happy or loved.“
The girl gasped softly wondering just how much her sister had seen. „Lagertha, I promise you I do not have any intentions behind my bond with your sister. It’s about her not about you or how you killed my mother.“ Ivar broke the silence looking at Lagertha with pure hatred but his eyes seemed to soften when he looked over at the girl standing close to her. The girl flinched at Ivars harsh words. The woman on the throne couldn’t stop herself from laughing. „I did not even think about that for a second Ivar, because you wouldn’t even be able to.“
„Sister, Ivar would be capable of ruling over Kattegat just as well as you are. His ideas for this village are incredible. If you would just listen to them you’d see how capable he would be to do everything he wanted to.“ With wide eyes the girl just realized what she said, covering her mouth she looked down. „I’m sorry I spoke out of tune.“ Lagertha studied her and saw a lot of how she acted because of Ragnar in her sister, smiling slightly. As her eyes wandered to Ivar, she caught him smirking, his eyes glistening with pride and love as his eyes wandered over her figure.
Getting of her throne Lagertha stopped only in front of her. Her hand went up to cup her cheek, making the girl flinch. The boy tried to crawl over to them making sure the girl stayed unharmed, but Ubbe held him back making the young boy fight against his hold. „He makes you happy, doesn’t he?“ Lagerthas voice was quiet as she smiled down at her sister softly. Nodding her head the girl looked back up at her. „More than anything.“ Her eyes held a sincerity that the woman saw rarely. She was a bit taken aback by her truthfulness. Of course, she was upset about it having to be Ivar. Hvitserk would’ve been easier to accept but sadly that’s not what happened. „How could it be him, he is cruel and no good for you, my sweet sister…“ She could see Ivar lowering his head, knowing that Lagertha was right about him being cruel, not being good enough for the girl.
„He wants to show me the world. He isn’t cruel, he is just easy to upset and in pain, Lagertha…“ Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how bad Ivars legs had been these past weeks. „The gods are cruel to him sometimes, so I pray. I pray to them to stop it and he starts to feel better. He is not a cruel man, Lagertha. He just isn’t!“ Her hands were trembling as she clenched them into fists. Lagertha could only stare at her in shock. For how long was their relationship kept a secret from her? „How long did you feel like this about him?“ She grew angry for being held in the dark that long. „All of this started a little over six months ago…“ The girls head hung low as she fidgeted with her fingers.
Looking at her hand she noticed a little mark on her ring finger looking over at Ivar she saw the same small mark on the same finger. „You’re thinking about marriage…“ She gasped quietly taking a step back from her sister. „I accept your decision, but I do not support it. Though I will give you my blessing only because I haven’t seen you happy like this in ages. You are my little sister and I love you and I want you to be loved. As much as I don’t like Ivar, I have to say that he truly seems to love you and care for you.“ Smiling widely the girl hugged her sister tightly, throwing her arms around her. „Thank you!“ She repeated those words until she turned to Ivar grinning at him shyly.
Ivar walked over to her cupping her cheek before he kissed her forehead and leaned his against hers. „I told it would work out somehow, my love. May the gods forbid anything would part us until we both are on our way to dine with the gods in Valhalla.“
Lagertha couldn’t fight the smile as she watched the both of them. Even though she disliked Ivar, she was certain he would treat her right. Maybe even better than Ragnar treater her. She could tell in his smile, in his eyes, in every action towards her sister, that he adored her.
#ivar ragnarsson#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok#ivar ragnarsson x reader#ivar x reader#ivar fluff#ivar imagine#vikings#vikings fanfiction#ivar the king#ivar x you#ivar the boneless imagine#ivar fanfic#vikings ivar#modern ivar#ivar x oc#ivar vikings#ivar smut
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king harald finehair would've risked it all for megan thee stallion
#vikings#vikings incorrect quotes#ubbe ragnarsson#ragnar lothbrok#rollo lothbrok#ivar the boneless#modern ivar#ivar x oc#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless x ofc#ivar the boneless x you#hvitserk#vikings valhalla#vikings imagine#vikings ivar#lagertha#bjorn vikings#bjorn ironside#bjorn ragnarsson#sigurd snake in the eye#the last kingdom fandom#the last kingdom#tlk uhtred#uhtred imagine
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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 17
I'm back! I'm so sorry its taken me months to update. Life took a turn for the busy. During this time I've had people ask and I promise I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, even if it takes me months to update. I'm enjoying this story too much, and I hope you are too.
Also this chapter was a tough one to write. So I suggest you buckle up your seatbelts because the angst train is here since its Ivar's POV! Hopefully the length also makes up for the wait!
min skatt– my treasure
Words: 9400
Warnings: language, implied drug use, mild sexual content, brief mentions of violence, Ivar doesn't handle feelings well
Series Masterlist
Ivar fucked up.
He knew it. His family knew it. Hell, it might as well be broadcasted on global news at this point.
He had fucked up.
Severely.
That thick, tar-like feeling of betrayal had coated his nerve endings, dulled his mind and made his black heart stone-cold. The sensation of betrayal was not unusual, but he hated it. With every cell of his body, he loathed it. Anger was an escape, a way to get out of the suffocating void that betrayal tried to drown him in. So he latched onto the familiar burn of anger, a welcomed friend by this point in his life.
But when the fire burned out, when he could see past the comforting haze of red…it was to the sight of fear in Kari's blue-green eyes and tears running down her cheeks.
Immediately, he knew he fucked up in the worst way possible. And when she ran from him, he could not blame her. Even if every step she took away from him was a knife repeatedly to the gut. But her expressive eyes, they told him how badly he had messed up. She had dealt with plenty of his shit but this…this was the line crossed. He could not even get mad at her for it, for self-loathing had wrapped its tentacles around him and squeezed.
He had lost her. His gift from the gods. His kitten.
His Kari.
He vaguely remembered screaming and demanding his brothers and Floki release him. Could barely recall landing a solid punch to Sigurd that busted his knuckles and broke his brother's nose. Somehow he ended up on the floor whimpering her name with cold tears slipping from his eyes as Floki kept his arms wrapped around him, either to keep him restrained or to comfort, Ivar was unsure. But it did not matter.
In a single moment, he knew he had lost her.
And it was his own fucking fault.
When Ragnar returned later, Ivar could barely get words to come out, his tongue felt heavy and his stomach full of stones. His father had taken one look at him and sighed.
"Leave her alone. I told her you'd stay away. Don't make me fucking put security on you to keep away from her. She's got enough shit to deal with now."
Ivar nodded silently. Promising himself he would.
But the next day he broke that promise.
It was an all-consuming need to see her, to check on her, to make sure she did not despise him as much as he did himself. He tried to sneak away, however idiotic that was. A crippled bastard trying to sneak out of the house, where every footfall was as loud as a gong. Standing at the door, phone in hand to call a driver, Floki had found him. He took one look at the child of his heart and told him to get into his car. That he would drive him, but only this once.
Ivar was unsure what he had expected when choosing to visit Kari. Hell, he was not even sure she would be home. All he knew was at some point during the night, while he laid awake on his bed, sleep evading him like a mocking ghost, he knew he had to see her. Fuck what Ragnar said.
When she walked away, she had taken part of his heart with her. Whoever cliché that sounded, and he would never admit it aloud. Yet that was how it felt. And now he needed to know if he would ever get that blackened, bleeding organ back from her delicate, gentle hands.
In his mind, the best case scenario of his unexpected arrival would involve her running into his arms, him reassuring her he never meant to hurt her, immediately followed by hot make-up sex that lasted for hours.
The worst case scenario? He would walk in the door and she would shoot him. No…he would walk in the door and she would coldly tell him she never wanted to see him again, that whatever they had was over and how much she hated him. He would gladly take being shot instead of hearing her say anything like that.
What he walked in on- seeing her curled up on the couch, with red-rimmed eyes and tear stains on her cheeks- that felt like someone took a whip at what remained of his heart and attempted to shred it.
When he happened to notice the faintest discoloration along her jawline…the lashings began in earnest.
Then her words, her hesitation. It all tore at him.
"I need time, Ivar."
Another lashing of the whip.
But he absorbed the pain, welcomed it because he deserved every stroke. What he did was unforgivable, but somehow he hoped she would.
Gods, he hoped she could forgive him.
He did not linger, feeling his concrete reinforced composure cracking under the weight of his self-loathing and turmoil.
Thankfully, Floki never said a word when Ivar reentered the car. Nor did he question when Ivar put in a food order to be delivered to Kari.
Afterwards, the entire drive was silent.
Back at the house, he could feel Floki's shrewd gaze on him but he ignored it. He only spared his brothers a glance before retreating to his room. To the isolation and darkness there. To where he could cry without anyone seeing.
At some point that despair morphed into anger and before he realized it, he found himself in the home gym. He had no recollection of walking out of his room and to the gym. But in the moment, it did not matter. All he cared about was ruthlessly pounding on the punching bag.
All of his self-loathing. All of his anger directed at himself, at his family, at the whole fucking world. All of his pain and despair. All for it he poured into his punches. Each slam of his fist on the fabric drained a little more from the reservoir overflowing inside of him.
When his bones broke under the onslaught, he never relented.
As blood splattered the bag, the floor and himself, he persevered.
His whole vision had tunneled into needing to feel the pain, into pouring out his frustration. He breathed in the pain and let it wash over him.
He was not one for going to church, none of the Lothbroks were. But this. Each punch. Each sharp stab of pain. Each coating of blood flying from his own body. It all felt like a penance. It was no Hail Mary or Our Father. But this was even more raw, more real for Ivar.
For he knew blood. He knew pain.
What better way to atone for his sins than to punish himself with both?
He was unsure how long he slaved away at his personal penance until they found him.
Ubbe and Hvitserk pinned him to the floor. His blood stained their hands. His heart and lungs were in overdrive yet his mind was blissfully silent. He could vaguely hear Floki say something about a broken hand and they needed to take him to the hospital.
The rest of the night was spent with nurses and doctors, x-rays and a black cast on his hand and forearm. The sterile smell of the hospital burned his nose. The grating voices of the hospital staff asking questions and reading his extensive records irritated him.
But he kept silent.
All he could hope for, all he could pray for, was his atonement could somehow make up for his sins. That his blood shed could replace the pain he caused.
That his offering would be enough.
*****
The following day he spent in solitude. No matter how many times someone knocked on his door, he never answered. The one time Hvitserk tried to stick his head in, Ivar threw a drinking glass at him. Immediately after, Ivar cursed himself for the now shattered glass on the carpet. He knew he was acting pitiful yet he could not seem to rise above the deep well of depression and its thick cords wrapped around his body, dragging him further into its dark depths.
The only person he willingly chose to answer was his mother, but that was more out of self-preservation when she continuously called him for three minutes straight without stopping. The conversation had been brief and then he returned to watching TV while laying on his bed, trying his hardest to ignore the cast on his right hand and forearm and how much it fucking sucked to deal with.
At some point during the day, he had tossed his phone across the room, uncaring whether it broke or not. The temptation, the need, to text Kari, to call her, to profusely apologize and beg for her forgiveness was too much. She said she needed time. So he was going to damn well give it to her.
Fuck, if he could just forget it all for a while. Instead of drowning in thoughts of her. Of his self-loathing. Of how he always fucked up the best things in his life.
The next day an idea came to mind, a way to find a temporary reprieve from the swirling vultures of his thoughts.
He just needed his brother's help.
*****
Ivar and Hvitserk settled back onto the couches, the short table in front of them already with beers waiting for their pleasure. The loud thumping from the bass of the club's speakers could be felt in Ivar's chest. The shrill cries of the inebriation mixed with excitement filled the air as much as the music.
He pointedly ignored the fact, this was the very place he first met Kari and became consumed by her.
Ivar's fierce blue eyes scanned the crowd from his advantageous position about the main floor. For a Sunday night, the dance floor was packed and the line along the bar was full. He wondered if there was a special event or celebration causing it to be busier than normal. Not that he truly cared. The more people the better for his plan.
"So why are we here, Ivar?"
He looked over at his flaxen-haired brother. "I needed to get out."
"Yeah? Well I'm personally shocked this is the place you'd choose." Hvitserk waved to someone walking by that called his name but swiftly returned his attention to his younger brother. "So why are we here?"
"I told you–"
"And I'm calling bullshit, Ivar."
Ivar scoffed, taking a long draw of the beer in front of him. Only after initially reaching for the beer with his right hand and belatedly remembering it was in a cast before grabbing it with his left. It was a miracle he had not needed surgery for all the broken bones in his hand and wrist. The dumbass that he was, he had not even thought to wrap his hands before pummeling the punching bag. But what was another surgery to him? What was more broken bones to his crippled body? Physical pain was his closest companion. But this constant ache in his heart, this roiling torment, it was more than he could bear.
Hvitserk sighed. "I know you're hurting– don't give me that look, asshole– it's obvious to everyone with eyes. Look, if you wanted to just get drunk, we could have done that at home. So why are we here? Do you need a distraction? Someone to suck your cock? Is that why we're here?"
Ivar leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, mirroring his brother's pose. "I need something to get me out of my fucked up mind for a while."
"Okay…I'll go order a bottle of–"
"No," Ivar interrupted, "I need something else. I need the good stuff, Hvits."
Hvitserk blinked for a moment before immediately shaking his head and leaning back, as if distancing himself emphasized his refusal. "Ivar, no."
Ivar waited a second before continuing. "You know who has the best quality, who doesn't fuck around."
"Ivar….I don't do that anymore–I won't…not this."
The youngest Lothbrok understood his brother's hesitation, his wariness. It was a closely concealed secret of their family about Hvitserk's prior drug addiction and how it had almost killed it. He had been clean for close to two years now, but Ivar knew he still had connections even if he did not partake in the sampling anymore.
Ivar continued to stare at his older brother, just waiting. He knew he was an absolute, selfish bastard for asking this favor. Hvitserk had tried to protect his youngest brother as much as possible while he struggled with his addiction, and this was the one dark spot in Hvitserk's life that he tried to forget about or ignore. But right now, Ivar would do whatever necessary to get a break from his emotional pain. Including lying to his brother.
Hvitserk ran a hand down his face. "Just this once."
"Just this once." Ivar agreed.
He stood up, giving Ivar one more long look as if hoping Ivar would change his mind. When Ivar only stared back, Hvitserk shook his head, and wandered off with a "stay here" over his shoulder.
The dark-haired Lothbrok leaned back on the couch, arms across the back and surveyed the crowd once again. Years ago he had experimented with different substances, usually alongside Hvitserk, but while his brother enjoyed the sensations, Ivar did not. His mind was his greatest weapon, his most prolific asset. He disliked having his senses affected and his mind sluggish or useless. There had also been one too many accidents that left him in the hospital due to broken bones or lacerations that made him rethink the continued use. He did not mind getting a buzz from drinking, it was almost an obligation during family events, but he still felt in control then.
Tonight though, he wanted out of his head. Even for a little while.
Feeling eyes on him, his predatory gaze shifted towards the half stairs leading up to the restricted seating area. His blue eyes locked with a pair of bright green ones, belonging to a blonde with a black and gold dress that hugged her fit form like it had been painted on. He continued to watch her, curious to see what she would do next. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze head-on, running a finger along the low neckline of her dress.
A smirk grew on Ivar's face as he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over.
It did not take long until his cock was down her throat.
He allowed the sweet bliss to fill him, to cloud his mind and focus on the pleasure her skilled tongue gave him. But even then, it was still Kari's name on the tip of his tongue when he came.
*****
Darkness swaddled Ivar in its cocoon of warmth, keeping him safe and at peace. Here, nothing mattered. In the darkness, he was nothing and everything. A serenity floated through and around him, even when his dreams were caked in blood and screams. Nothing could touch or harm him….
….until the abrupt sensation of cold water splashed across his face, delivering him back to the realm of the living.
"Fuckkkk….what the fuck?" Ivar groaned after jerking awake and wiping the water off this face. Now his pillow was wet. Whoever disturbed him was going to fucking die. Well, once the pounding in his head, echoing his heartbeat, stopped and pain no longer flared behind his eyelids. Fuck, the nausea churning in his gut threatened to escape its weak confines. His stomach itself was attempting to claw its way out of his body. Why did everything fucking hurt? What kind of hangover from hell was this?
"Mmm….what's going on, baby?" A sleep-laced, feminine voice said from beside him.
Her voice grated against his ears, only intensifying the psychotic marching band that had taken up residence in his brain. "Shut the fuck up." He growled as he screwed his eyes shut.
A signature giggle came from the end of the bed, quickly followed by, "does your head hurt? That's a shame."
Fuckkkkkkkk……
Silently, Ivar begged all the gods he knew of to kill him now. He could not deal with that deranged madman today. His whole body was revolting against him at the moment. Even his thoughts staggered and rolled like a drunken sailor onboard a ship. Why was everyone talking so loudly? Was it even possible for sound to hurt this much?
Of course, because the universe hated him and despised him since birth, the feminine voice began shrieking and flailing about on the bed. The hammers striking against his brain with each heartbeat magnified their strength, as if wielded by gods themselves. He groaned loudly, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead, wishing death on everyone who dared to make a single sound.
Finally, when he could not take her wordless panicking anymore, he rolled over (his stomach reminding him of the physical revolt it was currently throwing) and slapped his hand harshly over the woman's mouth.
"Shut up!"
After a moment, he could feel her give a slight nod and only then did he release her. With that, he finally opened his eyes. The morning light blazed through the window, the curtains fully drawn back allowing maximum light into the room. His eyes slammed shut once more, refusing to suffer another level of torture.
"Fucking sadists." He mumbled, pressing his face back into his damp pillow. He must have spoken loud enough because that signature giggle followed his statement, sending another wave of pain shooting through his brain.
Fingers abruptly started running through his hair and down his bare back. An attempt at soothing him but instead it did the opposite. His body stiffened and his fists clenched even as he laid face down on the bed.
"Don't touch me." He hissed through clenched teeth.
The fingers stilled.
Carefully he tilted his head and peeked over at the woman beside him. What he saw made him immediately regret it and curse his subconscious desires. She had brown hair that most likely had been straightened last night but was now sleep-tousled, with hints of curls returning. The mascara and eye shadow around her blue eyes was smudged. Full lips sat under a small, straight nose.
Wordlessly, Ivar turned away from her and felt his heart crack at the sight. He knew what it was and hated what his drunk self had done. With just that single glance, he knew his drunk self had chosen her for the faint similarities she had with Kari. Apparently his subconscious would only bring someone like her into his bed now. Gods, what was fucking wrong with him?
"Get out."
"What?" She questioned softly, her hand still on his shoulder.
He turned his head to glare at her. "Fucking leave."
"But baby…you said last night that you needed me. You made me promise to stay."
And there was the knife twisting in his gut, but he ignored the pain. He needed her and her irritating touch gone. He needed to wallow in his pain alone and without someone to remind him of his mistakes. Why the fuck would his drunk self pick her? What kind of masochist was he?
He closed his eyes, no longer willing to look at her. Someone that would never fulfill the throbbing ache in his chest. "Leave or I'll gut you."
He could sense the warring within her, the confusion and hesitation, and he wondered what else he had blathered at her about last night. What lies and promises had he spewed at her, even if it was truly another person those words were meant for.
"I suggest you go. I'm not in the mood to clean up blood today." Another bodiless voice said from somewhere in the room.
Ivar turned his head towards the voice but kept his eyes closed. "Hvits?"
"Morning, brother."
"Ugh. Fuck you."
His brother's answering chuckle made Ivar want to stab someone. Repeatedly.
The bed began to shift as the Kari look-alike started to get out, but when she tugged on the blanket to cover her nakedness, Ivar yanked the blanket back. He heard the quiet, surprised gasp but there was no remorse in him. She could parade naked down to the lobby for all he gave a shit. Shuffling and footsteps followed a clicking of what he assumed was the bathroom door.
"Here, you ungrateful bastard. Move that ass."
Ivar rolled over and carefully sat up. The room spun like a carnival ride and he held his head for a long moment, swearing and cursing amidst the pain. Once he was able to overcome the rising nausea, he accepted the water and pills, knowing he needed them since he doubted the two intruders would leave him alone anytime soon. Damn them.
As he sipped on the water, the bathroom door opened. The woman came out, wearing a maroon dress that looked like someone had taken artistic license to while wielding a knife. She met his eyes, holding one black heel. But whatever she was hoping for, Ivar refused to give her. He slid his gaze away from her, focusing straight ahead and the ugly artwork in the hotel room he found himself in. What hotel was this? It did not look familiar. He heard her scoff and her footsteps move towards the door.
"Hvitserk, help her out." The asshole said, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed.
"Sure."
After the door closed, a pregnant silence fell on the two left in the hotel room. Ivar continued to sip on the water, staring straight ahead. The throbbing in his head felt relentless and his body ached as if he had gone a few rounds in the boxing ring. He thought about asking for someone to close the curtains, but his companion began speaking and it overshadowed his internal pain.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my daughter in the woods?" Floki quietly asked.
Ivar's ears perked up, even as he kept staring forward. Floki hardly talked about his only child. Ivar had vague memories of her, influenced by his own young age since they were born a year apart. But he could never forget how at four years old she had died from leukemia. One of his earliest solid memories was watching Floki silently weeping as he cradled a hysterical Helga to his chest, his eyes never straying from the pyre he had built for his daughter's body.
Without waiting for Ivar's answer, he continued. "Hmmm….it was one of the few times she wasn't in the hospital. She was like her mother, always wanting fresh flowers, listening to the birds' sing, smiling at the sun. It was…" He sighed, and Ivar could hear the pain and regret in the man's voice.
"I needed a new tree for a boat and I promised she could come with me. She was so small for her age, so fragile. I got distracted…found the perfect tree and was measuring it. But that was long enough for her to wander off. The panic I felt, Ivar, I can't tell you the complete goddamn terror I experienced as I tried to find my little girl. When she didn't reply as I screamed her name…I thought she'd–" This time he shook his head. "I finally found her, watching birds in the trees above. I scolded her severely, made her cry, but then I hugged her like my life depended on it. I'll never forget the terror I felt that day. Even though it's been over twenty years and she's been gone just as long. I'll never forget." The last sentence came out in a whisper, an audible ode to the harrowing event.
The next several seconds passed in silence before Ivar broke it. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Do you know what day it is, Ivar?"
"What? Why does that fucking matter?"
Floki reached out his long arm and swatted the side of Ivar's head. "Because you selfish, crippled bastard, you've been missing for thirty hours."
"The fuck–'"
"Ivar, listen," Floki interrupted before Ivar could question the validity of the statement. "The gods may have taken my daughter but they gifted me you as a son. And the fear I felt when Hvitserk told me he couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone…I should beat your ass. I'm too old to deal with this shit anymore."
Ivar sat mutely, his mind reeling with everything Floki had said. How could he be missing for that long? That made no sense. He remembered going to the club with Hvitserk and his brother bringing him the chosen poison and deliverance he had practically begged for. Then there was a girl with blue eyes….or were they green? He could vaguely recall, like looking through a cloudy window, talking with someone about how they had more of the good stuff at their apartment. He remembered huge tits in his face and a woman moaning his name above him.
He glanced down at his right hand, seeing the cast on it still. There were new drawings and several phone numbers on it now from a bright silver marker. Why could he not remember any of that? When did he arrive at the hotel? What kind of shit had he been on?
Logically, he knew Floki had every right to scold him. It was a miracle it was not Ragnar himself chastising him. All the Lothbroks knew that with their rise in power and business accomplishments, it also painted a target on their backs for any that would seek to undermine or destroy them. For one of them to go missing…that would become paramount. Everything else would screech to a staggering halt until the missing person was returned. And for it to be him…with the vast wealth of information and security locked away in his mind. It could easily eradicate the company and their family if that knowledge was given to the wrong person.
As if sensing where Ivar's thoughts led, Floki softly spoke. "Your father doesn't know. He thinks you've been holed up at home. Hvitserk came to me."
A whoosh of air expelled from his lungs, draining the staggering concern and stress that had momentarily crashed over him. "Thanks." He murmured.
"I know you're hurting. You can't deny what my old eyes see. So I've one question for you…what in the hel are you doing, boy?"
"What are you–"
Floki swatted his head again. "Have you numbed the pain? Do you feel better now?"
"Fuck off. You don't know–"
"And that's where you're wrong again, foolish child. I do know." He leaned forward, forcing Ivar's gaze to meet his, the bed shifting under the movement. "What happened with Kari? I drove you there, if you can even remember. I didn't push you then, but I think I damn well deserve an answer. Saved your dumbass from punching through the bag and now this….what happened?"
Ivar flinched but knew the father of his heart was correct. Especially with it just being the two of them, he knew he could speak freely. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck there. What agony he had tried to temporarily escape flooded him. Wave after wave slammed into his chest, especially with the reminder that even drunk and high, he still craved her. Waking up to find someone not her beside him. The pounding in his head was subsiding but now his heart took the brunt of the pain.
Ripping his gaze away from Floki's, he stared down at the empty cup in his hand. His thoughts and memories swirled and clashed, like an intricate swordplay. But those edges were live and sharp, cutting and slashing at him with every pass. Her face, tears trickling down her cheeks. The fear and pain in her eyes. The mark he left on her. The self-loathing that threatened to shatter his control. The desperate need to forget and escape. Pain and blood. Gods, he has fucked up.
Why did he always fuck everything up?
"She said she needed time." He whispered. "She said….fuck– I can't remember everything, but she didn't want to see me. She said….she knows I'm sorry but she still needed time." His eyes blurred, tears welling in them, as he finally looked back up at his companion. Thick emotion choked his throat, making it hard to speak. "What if she…Floki, I can't lose her. I can't–"
Floki gathered Ivar into his arms and just held him as he cried. The youngest Lothbrok could not remember the last time someone held him as he cried like this, his body quivering with the sobs ripped from his very soul. Most likely his mother or Floki, but that would have been years ago. For he had learned to wrap himself in his anger, allowing his fury to be the suit of armor needed to protect him from the world and all the ways it attempted to rend him apart.
But then she walked into his life, with her soft curves, kind heart and ability to see past all his barriers, to see past the thorns and thistles wrapped around his blackened heart, to hear the faint beating there, and to cherish its sound. For her to choose him, to want him for simply being Ivar.
He was undone by her. And yet, he had never felt more powerful and happy than when he was with her.
Eventually his tears subsided, draining him completely. He leaned back against the headrest of the bed as Floki went to refill his water cup. His body still ached, his stomach unsteady and his head hurt from the hangover and from the crying. It felt like someone had stuck a hose in him and sucked all the vitality out of him, leaving him a dry husk of who he should be, or rung out like a rag and tossed onto the floor to be trampled.
Floki handed over the new cup of water, settling back onto the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, Ivar drank it slowly, even as he suppressed the urge to just chug it. He was not that stupid. It would most likely come back up. And he despised the taste of vomit.
Of course, the old man delved into a new level of cruelty. Instead of sitting silently and allowing Ivar time to recover, he resumed speaking.
The asshole.
"How do you think Kari would feel if she found you like this? Hmmm?" He asked thoughtfully, as if they were speculating about the weather. "Think she'd take your ass back seeing you hungover like this? Or hearing about all the women you apparently fucked? Hmmm? Why should she want you after this?"
Shame rolled in his gut, rising with the nausea he could taste in the back of his throat. "She doesn't want me anymore."
Floki swatted his head again. "Damn foolish boy, can't see past his own nose."
"Stop fucking hitting me." Ivar growled.
"Oh, I'll hit you enough times until you start using that brain of yours." Floki leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, a calculating look in his eyes as he observed the dark-haired Lothbrok. "You want her back?"
Ivar furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"
"You still want her, yes?"
"What kind of dumb, fucking question is that? She's the reason I–"
"Yes or no, Ivar."
"Yes!" Ivar threw the cup, hearing it hit the nearby wall but kept his gaze locked on Floki's, a tension swirling around them like a rising tide. "Fuck! Yes, I need her! Gods, I miss her so much it hurts!"
"Good." Floki nodded. "You want her back. Now prove it."
"But she said…"
"Yes, yes, she needs time. That doesn't give you the excuse to fuck off and be a disaster. She could still choose you…." Floki's calculating gaze intensified, immediately making Ivar uneasy, "....but not if you're like this. I'll keep her away from you myself if you keep this shit up."
"You wouldn't."
Floki giggled. "Think I won't? I might not know her well, but I do know she deserves better than this." He accused, gesturing to Ivar.
And he was right.
Fuck.
Ivar had always known Kari deserved better than someone like him. She was too pure. Too good. She was the bright, summer sunshine and he was the devastating, dark storm waiting on the horizon. And now…gods, would she even look at him if she knew the self-destruction he had spiraled into because he could not handle her loss? The potential of her rejection. Would she pity him? Would she become even more fearful of him? Would she hate him?
Would she feel betrayed if she knew he had picked someone that looked like her to blindly fuck in a drunken attempt to alleviate his misery? Shit…she would probably never speak to his sorry ass again. And why should she? He had raged at her when hearing she had gone out on a date and here he had been fucking any woman he could.
Why would she want him now? What goddamn right did he had to demand of her loyalty if he could not give his own?
And yet he still wanted her. Still needed her. Would do whatever it took to win her back. To prove how much she meant to him. Even after all the shit he had done. It was still her he thought of constantly, that he wanted by his side, that he wanted to talk to and listen to her laugh, that he wanted to kiss and hold and make love to. Even if fucking was the only thing he knew. He wanted to learn how to make love with her. Floki said to prove it. But how? And the answer to that eluded Ivar.
Slowly, Ivar shifted his gaze back to meet the piercing eyes watching him. He sighed quietly before speaking. "What do I do?"
Floki studied him for a long moment before smiling. "You're coming home with me to Norway. Helga has been asking when you're coming to stay and I want you to see my new boat."
Ivar thought about it then shrugged. "Fine." It was probably the best place for him at the moment anyway.
"Yeah, you ungrateful bastard. I'd drag your ass there anyway. My Helga always gets what she wants."
"You're whipped, Floki."
"Yeah, so are you."
Ivar groaned at the shit-eating grin on Floki's face but could not deny it. Not this time. With all his confessions and actions, it would be futile to try and deny it.
Pushing himself off the bed, Floki started to search around the hotel room. "Where's your clothes, boy?"
"Stop calling me that."
"When you stop acting like a spoiled brat, I will."
"Fuck off."
"No, we've got a plane to catch and I highly doubt you can walk a straight line."
"Fuck me." Ivar groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in resignation while Floki's giggles filled the room.
It took some time for Floki to locate all of Ivar's things. Thankfully, Ivar still had his pants on. Not that it surprised him. Even drunk and high, apparently his subconscious still was overly aware of the state of his mangled legs and did not want others to see them. Amidst copious amounts of swearing, Floki plying him with an excessive amount of water, and only one trip to the bathroom to puke up half of the contents of his stomach, the two of them finally made it out of the hotel.
The morning sunlight burned Ivar's eyes as he stepped outside, refueling the hammering in his head. Squinting, he could see Hvitserk standing just off to the side of the door, smoking a cigarette. Without a word, he moved to join his brother.
"You look like shit." Hvitserk greeted him. "Smell like sex and vodka."
Ivar took the offered cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling it curl in his lungs. "It's an improvement over what you always look like."
His brother snorted, taking the cigarette back. "Here." He handed over a pair of sunglasses.
With a nod of thanks, Ivar slipped them on gratefully.
"Don't ever pull this shit again. I was worried." Hvitserk stated as he handed the cigarette back over.
"I know. I think Floki will kill me if I do."
"Slowly and painfully!" The asshole yelled out from where he stood a few paces away on the phone.
Hvitserk chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.
"You good?"
Ivar thought about his answer, about all the revelation he had received up in the hotel room and what all Floki had said to him. He answered softly, "I will be."
Hvitserk hummed. "Might want to get tested soon. The number of girls who sucked your cock at the club….if I wasn't so pissed at you, I'd say you deserve an award. Then you fucked off when I walked away and I couldn't fucking find you."
Ivar smirked, as he finished off their now shared cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and watching Hvitserk step on it.
The three of them loaded up in Hvitserk's car and headed towards the brothers' house. Head against the window, eyes closed during the drive, Ivar listened to Floki's words replay over and over in his mind. How could he 'prove it'? What did that even mean?
He decided to analyze that more later when he was not hungover and exhausted.
Once they finally made it back to the house, Ivar trudged to his room, ignoring the sounds of his family. What in the hell were they doing here in the late morning? Making a quick side trip to vomit once more then pop some strong pain pills he kept in his bathroom, he grabbed a few essentials from his room to bring with him to Floki's.
Over the years, one of the spare bedrooms in Floki's house had become Ivar's since he spent so much time with them, especially as a child. It was the only place Aslaug would allow her youngest to go without her ever-watchful eyes on him. With the frequency and duration of time spent there, it had become easier to leave a decent amount of clothing and other personal belongings to await his return.
With a backpack slung over his back, he grabbed his cane and his computer bag. That would be sufficient for now. If he needed something later, it would not be hard to have his father or brothers deliver it to him.
Voices coming from the kitchen drew his attention and he headed that way after exiting his bedroom. He could hear Ubbe arguing with someone and mild shock spilled over him to hear Gyda. What the fuck was she doing here? And who the hell pissed her off so badly? However much she tried not to associate with the Lothbrok business and keep herself clear of all that entailed, she was certainly a Lothbrok through and through. Her temper alone was evidence of that.
Stepping into the kitchen, he could see Gyda squaring off to Ubbe, hands on her hips and tension coating every inch of her body. Ubbe stood meeting her gaze head-on, arms over his chest. Hvitserk and Floki stood off to the side, seemingly watching the verbal sparring take place with no intention to intervene. Of course, Hvitserk had food in his mouth, one of his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.
Hearing his footsteps and cane tapping as he entered the room, all eyes focused on him. Before he could question what was going on, the tall, blonde female practically flew across the room to shove him. It was only through sheer instinct and luck that he managed to only stumble backward and not lose his balance, having to drop his computer bag to reach out for a nearby wall to steady himself.
"What the fu–"
"If you lay a finger on Kari again, I swear I will castrate you…" Gyda spat through gritted teeth with a vengeful fire blazing in her eyes. "...and then I'll cut off all your fingers, one by one. I don't give a single fuck that you're family. You hurt her again, I WILL come for you. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Ivar slowly enunciated, fury boiling in his chest at her threats. But for once, he kept his anger in check.
"Good." She took a step back, hands returning to her hips. It was now she eyed him critically, as if seeing him for the first time. "Holy hell, you do look like shit. I'm still pissed enough I'll beat your sorry ass with your own cane though."
"Gyda, leave him alone, alright?" Ubbe said, coming around the large kitchen island. "You delivered your message, that's enough now."
Any other time, Ivar might have sneered at Ubbe attempting to be the peacemaker in the family, like always. But right now, he was too exhausted, too heartsore, too grateful for his older brother stepping in to say anything. It was taking all the miniscule strength he barely possessed to not lash out at Gyda, even if a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Gyda was only standing up for her friend. He met Ubbe's eyes for a moment, hoping he could see the thanks in them before dropping his eyes to his cane in hand.
Floki came over to his side, picking up the dropped computer bag. "Ready?"
He just silently nodded. The frustration and anger coiled and burned in his chest but he bit his tongue for once. Gyda had every right to be pissed at him. Part of him wondered who told her about what happened between him and Kari.
Without a word, Ivar started towards the front door, Floki by his side. The two of them were almost to the door when Hvitserk called out his name, drawing closer.
"Don't stab me, but I'm going to hug you." Hvitserk quickly informed him before doing exactly that. And to both of their astonishment, Ivar readily reciprocated the hug. Neither of them acknowledged the tight grip Ivar had on Hvitserk's shirt, as if in that moment, his brother's touch was the only thing keeping him from crumbling.
"I'll keep an eye on her. I promise." Hvitserk whispered, pulling back enough to press his forehead against his youngest brother's.
"Thanks." Ivar murmured, although it came out more as a strangled croak.
Emotions rising and warring inside him, alongside the unrelenting hangover, he trudged towards the car waiting outside for them. Seeing which driver it was waiting for them, Ivar was thankful it was one that preferred silence instead of background music. Minutes later, they were on the road, heading to the airport and the private Lothbrok plane waiting for them there.
With eyes closed once again, he could not tear his thoughts away from Kari. Not after Hvitserk's comment.
He wondered what she was doing. Was she working today? Had her cramps gotten better? What was she thinking about? Did she miss him yet? It was now he realized how much he looked forward to their conversations, even if it was just over texting. She always made him smile somehow. His own personal sunshine amidst the dark clouds and storm that was his life. His kitten. Did he brighten her day as much as she did his?
An idea popped into his mind and without overthinking it for once, he acted on it.
Less than five minutes later, a bouquet of tulips was on its way to her with his message.
He turned the screen off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Gods, he prayed she liked the flowers. She had said they were her favorite. She would be less likely to toss them in the garbage then, right? Fuck. He hoped she liked the gesture, that it brightened her day.
Floki's advice still swirled in his mind, like a maelstrom. Kari had told him to stay away, that she needed time. He could– no, he would honor that. She needed space from him. And she deserved it. But that did not mean he was going to let her go. Fuck that shit. He needed her. He silently swore to himself to do everything possible to show her how sorry he was for his actions and how much he missed her.
To prove how much she meant to him.
*****
Ivar stared out at the gorgeous scenery spread out before him like a painting masterpiece. The steep walls of the Norwegian fjord rose above the glittering blue river. The trees appeared ablaze with what was left of autumn's colors, transforming summer's green to something warmer. A deception to the present chill in the air, a taste of the coming winter. He could practically feel the impending cold in his bones.
His thoughts though were miles away from the picturesque scenery before him. He tapped his phone absent-mindedly against his leg with his left hand, since his right was still in its cast. Which was thankfully back to its original black and without random phone numbers in it. It had only taken a call to the local hospital to have them willing to redo his cast without any questions. One of the many times Ivar appreciated how easily he could use his name to bypass regulations and rules.
"Did you decide yet?"
"Yeah." A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "I ordered the Armani sweater and Dior jacket."
Helga settled onto the wooden Adirondack chair next to Ivar's, her blonde hair catching in the faint breeze. "I bet she'll love them."
"Hopefully."
"Of course she will." She leaned over, whispering conspiracingly. "Think Floki will buy those for me?"
He chuckled. "If he doesn't, I will."
Laughing, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "I've missed having you here. Even if most of the time, you've been holed up in your room on your laptop."
He rolled his eyes at her pointed look. "I've been working."
"I know. Floki told me. I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping."
His brows pinched together as he tried to figure out how she knew that. Helga typically turned in early and rose with the dawn, quite opposite of Ivar who was a night owl. Aware of that, he made sure to be as quiet as possible when moving around the house, not wishing to disturb her or Floki when he finally retired for the night. At that point, he usually returned to his room but would remain awake for hours more, face illuminated by his computer or phone as he worked feverishly. If he let his mind wander freely too much, it would descend into solemn depths, he would rather avoid.
"Floki told me. He hears you moving around–"
"That asshole never sleeps either." Ivar muttered.
"--and those bags under your eyes are looking like you got into Floki's 'war paint'."
He smirked as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "If I hide it again, what do you think he'll do?"
"Knowing what happened last time you stole it and drew penises all over the side of his shed….gods, what were you? Fifteen?" She shook her head, unable to fully restrain the amused, fond smile on her face, highlighting the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth.
He grinned mischievously. "I was thirteen, but it was all Hvitserk's idea though."
"Uh huh. I highly doubt that."
The door opening had both of them turning their heads to see Floki stepping out onto the back deck. He stepped out in his usual brown pants and dark, long-sleeve shirt, the tattoos on the sides of his head clearly visible. He must have finished shaving his head before coming out. Ivar silently wondered if Floki and Helga even noticed anymore that their attire always seemed to match in some way. Today, Floki's shirt was a dark, forest green, the color matching Helga's dress, even as it was covered in a floral design. Maybe they were so in tune with one another by this point in their decades long marriage, it was instinctual or unconscious.
A stray thought drifted through Ivar's mind, questioning if Kari and himself would ever be like that….he quickly brushed it away.
"He lives!' Floki gestured towards Ivar as he came closer. "I thought you'd finally died from glaring at your laptop. Save us all from your complaining and moaning. I was preparing to drag your crippled, scrawny ass down and throw you in a funeral boat."
"Like an old, fat fucker like you could carry me."
"Ivar, language!" Helga chastised.
"You see the abuse I have to deal with, min skatt?" Floki plopped on the arm of Helga's chair, wrapping his arm around her and faux pouting. "And I even shared my Brennivín with him."
She poked his side, making him giggle. "You just wanted an excuse to open the new bottle."
He hummed, noncommittally, before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his wife's lips.
Ivar dropped his gaze to his lap. Not because he was uncomfortable with their displays of affection, but because it made his heart ache. He had that and he fucked it up. He had someone to hold and kiss and tease, but he allowed himself to become blinded by perceived betrayal instead of trusting her. Someone who had only ever been genuine and selfless with him.
It was almost a week and a half since he destroyed whatever it was that was blooming between them, something he had never experienced before but craved now with every cell in his deformed body. Six days had passed since he arrived in Norway with Floki.
He had not heard from his kitten since she had texted him in thanks about the food he ordered when he found her on the couch. He could not think about it too much or he knew he would drive himself mad again. The gaping hole in his chest still bled her name, weeped with missing her touch.
He appreciated Floki returning home with him. There was a peace here, tucked away in the woods outside Kattegat, that he had never found anywhere else. Not even in his childhood house in the city. Maybe it was the location? Maybe it was the two people who filled it with pieces of themselves and transformed it from a house to a home? Whatever it was, Ivar was grateful to be here.
The only problem was the silence at night that pursued him. His demons of regret, self-loathing and insecurity stalked him in the darkness, wrapping their claws around his throat to strangle whatever buds of hope tried to blossom in his cheat.
So he threw himself into his work. Ignoring his body screaming for sleep until he passed out from exhaustion or drinking with Floki. He continued to monitor the traitorous fucker, further tightening the strings of his web until soon it would bind the turncoat and keep him immobile.
Then Ivar had lethal plans.
Until then, he kept an eye on other endeavors for Ragnar. Both for the company and off the books, anything to keep his mind busy. More often than not, he would work through the night, not even aware of the sun's arrival until he checked the time. Yet she still invaded his mind with frequency. It certainly did not help that third day, he had drunkenly proclaimed to Floki and Helga, he would send flowers to Kari every day until she took him back.
Floki had laughed.
Helga had sighed then leaned forward and told him to stop sending flowers and send something meaningful.
So far, he had no intentions of ceasing his array of offerings. But he had hoped….wished that by now, she would have texted him. At least thanked him for some of the presents. All he had gotten was radio silence. It burned like ice held against his skin for too long. A permanent chill took up residence in his chest, tightening its grasp on him with each passing day.
He knew she had received the packages. He was notified every time something was delivered but he also had a contact keeping an eye on her for him. Would she never speak to him again if she learned that she was being watched and followed? Most likely. But she already was giving him the silent treatment and he could not with good conscience allow her to be unprotected. He might not be around anymore but that did nothing to lessen his compelling need to keep her safe.
Hvitserk text him frequently, sometimes making a passing comment about how Kari was doing since he checked in with her often. Hearing the snippets of their conversations was both a knife to the chest, twisting and further ripping at his heart but also a cooling balm. To hear she was doing alright and she did not hate his family nor him. That she really did just need time to think.
But how much time? How much longer could he keep waiting? Why would she not just fucking talk to him? Yell at him. Scream until his ears bled. Break one of his bones to help her feel better. Gods, he would let her do anything if it would create a bridge over the void between them.
He just wanted to know if she thought of him as often as his thoughts turned towards her.
Sighing, he glanced down at his phone in his hand, bombarded with alerts and notifications but not from the one person he wanted.
Should he text her? Was it up to him to open that door of communication? But she said she needed time….why was all of this so damn confusing? Why did he have to fuck everything up in the first place?
"I'll go start on dinner." Helga announced, standing up. "Ivar, you should order those books for her next. That was a good idea."
He nodded silently, sending her a small, grateful smile.
After Helga left, the two men sat in the quietness of nature, gazing out over the water and fjord of Norway. A comfortable silence hovered over them.
Suddenly, Ivar's phone started ringing, startling him. With a raised brow, he unlocked the screen and brought the phone to his ear.
"What?"
"How's that vacation of yours?"
"Fuck off."
His father chuckled darkly before clearing his throat and turning serious. "Think you're sober enough to deal with our traitor?"
Ivar tensed, even as his stomach flipped and his fingers twitched in anticipation. "When?"
"Two days."
"Where?"
"Istanbul."
"Good."
Ragnar hummed thoughtly then continued. "He still has no notion we are aware of his activities, correct?"
Ivar snorted. "That goddamn fucker tried to send out information about your supplier in Libya…which does Bjorn even know about this supplier?"
"Not a fucking word, Ivar."
"Yeah, figured." Ivar scoffed, his hand tapped repetitively on his knee as his mind raced. "I'll leave tomorrow. Get everything ready there."
"Excellent. Tell Floki I need him next week."
"Sure."
The click on his phone notified Ivar that his father was no longer on the line and had not even attempted to end the call with a 'goodbye'. Like normal.
"Ragnar needs you next week." Ivar said, leaning back once again in his seat. Weeks of work, weeks of pouring through files and coded messages while digging deeper and deeper into the mire of corruption and betrayal. All of it would finally come into the light. All his hard work would showcase the snake he had caught, slithering through the henhouse. If only it had known Ivar was the bigger predator, with long-reaching claws and limitless resources.
"Hmmm….and what's got you so happy?" Floki asked, breaking Ivar from his thoughts.
He had not even realized a menacing smile covered his lips. Chuckling darkly, he could almost taste the spilled blood on his tongue. He stared straight ahead as he answered Floki, his gaze no longer seeing the fjord but a dark room where justice would be served. "My web has entangled a snake. And now it's time to rip its fangs out and watch it scream as I bleed it dry."
Tag List:
Vikings (all)
@youbloodymadgenius @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310 @errruvande-2-0
To Call Forth Love
@heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @ecarroll1978 @breezykpop @avoidanceishowiroll @maggyme13 @that-virgo-witch @cdauni @istorkyou @smears-and-spotss @resichen2406 @jessi-lynn-h @heathengurrrl71 @harleyquinn3289 @ivarlover @complicatedbutrare
Vikings-Ivar
@breezykpop @frankie-undead-dame
#mz writes#to call forth love#vikings fanfiction#vikings fandom#vikings fanfic#vikings#vikings ivar#ivar#ivar ragnarsson#ivar the boneless#modern ivar#modern!ivar x oc#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar romance#hvitserk lothbrok#hvitserk#floki the boat builder#floki#ubbe#gyda lothbrok#gyda
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Ivar the Boneless x Reader Pt. 2
I can’t keep up with them. My mom keeps speaking over me. My feelings go unheard and constantly invalidated by my family.
I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this…with them. You frowned, finding yourself dissatisfied with everything…with them once again.
Bzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Your phone was vibrating. Who could it be?
You turned over your phone. It was Ivar. Should I answer? I don’t want to burden him. He did say I could count on me.
You rubbed your forehead. Shit. I overdid it again. Now, I have a headache. Great. Just fucking great. You winced at the pain. Never mind, it’s a fucking migraine.
It was like a ritual. Every single time you felt stressed, worried, or just overwhelmed by your family, you would get a migraine. It felt like a curse.
Ivar pulled the phone away from his ear. He furrowed his eyebrows. Why isn’t she answering my calls? Did she fall asleep?
He glanced at the clock on his wall. 6:30pm.
He shook his head. No, she wouldn’t be asleep.
He unlocked his phone. Clicked on messages app and clicked on your name. He contemplated what to say. He didn’t want to make you feel like you did something bad. He didn’t want to hurt you.
You sigh, the phone stopped vibrating. Even if I did answer, I wouldn’t know what to say. You tossed your phone aside. I hope he understands. I don’t know how to open up. I become voiceless. It’s so hard to say what I want to.
He growled, he couldn’t say what he wanted over messages. It wouldn’t have the same impact. He blue eye narrowed on the keyboard. She’s worth it. Every sleepless late night. If they won’t care, I will. I have to remove her from that place. Once and for all. I’ve had enough of this.
He inhaled and exhaled before typing, “Whatever it is that is consuming your mind, I’ll be there for you. No expectations. Just you and me. See you soon. Love you.❤️🔥” He tilted his head. Should I keep the emoji or is it too much? His eyes went wide, what if I overdid it? He moved his thumb to erase it but accidentally tapped send.
He nodded to himself. My heart is on fire for her though. He stood up. That’s it. I’ll take her out on an adventure. We could go to the beach and look at the moon. And if she wants to we could stay and watch the sun rise.
He smiled. She had always wanted to go out at night. I can make her forget even if it’s just for one night. One of many.
He got off his bed and swiftly left his room. He called his driver and sent one last message to you before leaving his house.
You threw your head back, sighing. I didn’t do anything. How am I supposed to be the one apologizing?
It’s tiring listening to my mom play victim and at the same time, hurt me with her words. I feel bad and at the same time, I’m angry. It hurts.
Bzzz.. Bzzz. Bzzz. You looked away from the wall and picked up your phone. The screen light up. A message from Ivar. You unlocked your phone. You smiled. My precious Ivar. My rock. If he wasn’t around, I don’t know what I would do. At least he cares. He listens. He’s been around for so long that I hope he won’t leave me like the rest.
I shouldn’t be doubting him but after experiencing so much pain and trauma from my family, I don’t know what to expect from anyone else. But then again, he isn’t just anyone. He’s stood by my side. Ughh.
You rubbed your temples. It doesn’t feel good questioning his intentions. But it’s all I know to protect myself.
Heart emoji. I appreciate his words. His heart emoji. I’m so going to tease him.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Another message from Ivar.
It said, “Get dressed. A hoodie and sweats. It’s a chilly night. I don’t want you to get sick. I’ll take a spare one just in case. Put you first. Let’s enjoy the night and get out of our heads for a while. Please. Sneak out. 😉I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”
You held back a smile. He could be so sweet and kind when he wants to.
“Throw out the trash.” Your sister told you. Fuck it. I deserve this. Right? So far, I’ve done everything to their standards. The least they can do is let me have this one night. Im an adult. I can do this.
“Did you hear me?” Throw the trash.” Your sister said, irritated. She blamed you. She was on your mom’s side.
You made a joke. It wasn’t even serious. It was a reality check that stings like a bitch to your mom.
Your mom blew up in your face. Said hurtful things. But it’s your fault. Your mom hasn’t spoken to you since the “fight”. You refuse to talk because you had enough.
You took out a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. You changed into them. You pocketed your phone and exited the room. You walked into the living room. Your mom was on the couch. She ignored you. You put your shoes on by the door.
You picked up the trash and exited the apartment. You lived in an apartment complex so the garbage was disposed on the other side. You grinned as you walked away. The sunset was beautiful. It was windy. It felt great to be away.
Honk. Honk. Honk. Honk.
You turned to look who was honking. There at the backseat of the car was Ivar, smiling as he waved his hand at you. You laughed, shaking your head. He looked insane. You lifted the trash bag and pointed that you were going to dump it. He nodded.
You dump the trash and took out your hand sanitizer. You squirted some on your hands and rubbed your hands together.
You looked around. The last thing you need is someone to report to your mom about this. Nosy neighbors.
You walked up to the car. You opened the door. He mischievously smiled as you got in. He inwardly cheered. He finally got you to go out with him.
You got inside and shut the door. “Let’s go.” Ivar told the driver. You rolled up the window. “So, where are we going?” You asked, putting in your seatbelt. “You’ll see.” You turned over to look at him. “Surprise, huh.”
“Yup, a surprise you’ll love.” Ivar replied, smiling down at you.
Thank you for reading.
#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar x reader#ivar fanfic#ivar the boneless fanfic#ivar x plus size reader#ivar x female reader#ivar the boneless x you#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar x oc
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Unexpected: Part 3
Summary: Thickheaded idiot Ivar finally realizes he’s in love while going to the market with her to get her new clothes and wise NPC (tm) gives him some advice. Aslaug takes her in for an interrogation à la overbearing mother… More smut ofc, but it’s a bit brief this time!
Beginning Notes: the Brísingamen is a necklace that was given to Freya in Norse mythology. From the etymology of the word, it’s possible that the necklace was meant to be made of amber.
Taglist: @bragisrunes @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added!)
Masterlist | Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 | requests are OPEN!
He woke up next to her this morning. Ivar can barely process it. When she moved in her sleep, he’d woken up, and he’d gotten to hold her while she was still sleeping, running a hand through her hair carefully.
She’d smiled at him when she had woken up, kissed him, gotten dressed halfway, and then Ivar had ruined her efforts and they were late to breakfast.
Now that she was his, she didn’t have to serve anyone else. Unlike Margrethe, she doesn’t dare sit down at the table, instead pouring his drink and refilling his mother’s and brother’s cups as well. Ivar glares at Sigurd, who leans towards her just to tease him.
Ivar knows that he is more interested in men than women, and that he’s fucking one ever since Hvitserk and Ubbe are taking up all of Margrethe’s time, but he still clenches his fist in jealousy under the table.
After breakfast, they head out alone. Sigurd leaves first, grabbing his Oud before he disappears to Gods know where, and Hvitserk and Ubbe leave soon after, saying that they’ll spar a bit. Ivar doubts it. Then again, his intentions aren’t the purest either.
She follows him dutifully to the market, carrying an empty basket. Before they can buy anything, Ivar spots Helga, who hands him a small vial. She smiles at her brightly.
“This is for your legs. It’s a new recipe, so tell me if anything is off.” She says, looking at Ivar.
Ivar nods, and she’s quick to take it, putting it in her basket.
“Do you need anything?” Helga asks, turning to her. She shakes her head.
“Bodil’s fever is gone, thank the Gods. It would’ve broken Estrid’s heart if her last daughter died too. That Frankish slave, Lothar, he cut himself quite deep, but the others already shared some of your old supplies.” She replies.
“That’s good. If you need anything, don’t be shy to come to me.” Helga says, walking away. Then, Ivar turns to her.
“How do you know Helga?” he asks.
“She helps us a lot. Whenever she can spare her supplies, she gives them to us. There’s a thrall that used to be in Floki’s service who learned from her. She’s a very kind woman.”
“That is true.” Ivar nods. He didn’t know Helga helped the slaves, but it’s her character to do such a strange thing.
The first stall they stop at is a fabric stall. The merchant looks like he comes from Rus, and his heavy accent confirms Ivar’s expectations.
He offers Ivar a good deal on a ready-made dress and a fur, but when Ivar turns to her, her eyes are wide.
“That is too expensive.” She says decidedly. The merchant immediately tells her he’s unwilling to haggle, but she shrugs, choosing a plain fabric instead. Ivar is sure it’s meant for aprons, but the light blue color suits her, so he hands over his coin.
“You need a pelt for when it gets colder.” He tells her. She looks uncomfortable at the thought, but nods.
“But not from this stall. This is luxury clothing he’s selling.”
Ivar lets her lead him away from the stalls on the main road, and towards a tiny stall that sells pelts as well as a few vegetables that have definitely been grown in the sorry soil of Kattegat.
She seems to know the vendor, who looks surprised at seeing a prince at her stall. Ivar chooses the fur, and she immediately begins haggling with the woman, before they settle on a price, she deems reasonable. Before they leave, Ivar spots a deep green, but still plain dress.
“That one too.” He tells the woman.
“You really don’t have to.” She insists, but the vendor readily holds it out for Ivar to inspect.
“No discussion.” Ivar tells her. “You need more than one proper dress.”
“I can make at least three out of this fabric.” She replies but lets him buy the dress.
They walk back onto the main road together, and she offers to go home. She’s blushing as she looks at the green dress, and Ivar can tell that she can’t believe the amount of money he just spent on her.
“I want to keep looking.” Ivar tells her. The blacksmith lives next to the stalls, and Ivar wants to pick up an axe he commissioned. Then, he wants to go to the stall of a Francian who sells wares from the Mediterranean. His mother loves oranges, so Ivar always goes to see if they have any.
While he’s at the blacksmith, he gives her money to go to the Francian. He follows soon after, only to see that she’s still at the stall.
“I don’t sell to thralls.” The merchant tells her as Ivar comes closer.
“It’s not for me, and I have the money. My master sent me to buy them.” She explains. “And I can take the bad ones off your hands, if you’d like.”
“Stop begging and buy off of someone else.” The merchant hisses.
“Is there a problem?” Ivar asks, stepping next to her. His axe is still in his hand.
“Prince Ivar!” he exclaims. Turning to her, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me who your master was?”
“I didn’t think it mattered.” She presses out, and Ivar can see the barely concealed anger in the way she clenches her jaw, and her knuckles turn white on the handle of her basket.
The merchant hands over the oranges, and then turns around and gives her another crate.
“The bad ones.” He says. Ivar looks at them and sees a few with marks, some with a little mold on them. He would never eat them, but she smiles brightly and thanks the merchant.
“Why did you ask him for the foul ones?” he asks her as soon as they are out of the rude merchant’s hearing.
“They’re not foul.” She laughs. “Just a bit old. These stalls are luxury stalls, so they usually don’t even sell to random thralls, but once, Bodil found a mandarin after the stall had closed down. She brought it to the thrall quarters and shared it with all of us. We kept the peel because it smelled so good. Since then, we’ve been trying to get more, whether that’s the old ones or something that fell off his cart.”
Ivar thinks he understands. There’s one last stop he wants to make today, but before they make it, she spots a young girl. Ivar follows her gaze. It’s another thrall, who waves to her. The girl can’t be older than seven. Unsure, she glances to him.
“Go.” Ivar tells her, and she almost runs off, taking the young girl into her arms. He sees them chatter and the girl grabs an orange from the crate, holding it up high over her head triumphantly. She reminds Ivar of Hvitserk. Ivar turns to the stall he wants to visit.
“I want to buy a necklace.” He tells the merchant. They know each other well. She’s an old woman, who was already selling her jewelry when Aslaug came to Kattegat. Ivar has been going to her whenever he wants to buy his mother a present.
“For your mother?” she asks, and Ivar shakes his head.
“For the girl?” she guesses, and Ivar stares at the ground.
“Just a simple one. With a stone or so.” He tells her. She turns around, going through one of her displays, until she finds what she’s looking for.
It’s a simple band with an amber pendant she hands him, and Ivar finds it almost painfully on the nose.
“Would you like a ring to go with it?” she asks in an almost teasing voice, and it’s only because Ivar has known her all her life that there are no consequences.
“What would I need that for?” he asks coolly.
“I’ve never seen you with that girl before, but I can tell when men are in love. It’s why I sell so much.”
“Secrets of the trade?” Ivar asks sarcastically.
“Precisely that. Tell her you’re in love. And free her if you haven’t already. I’ve heard nothing bad about that girl, and it’s obvious to me she loves you back.”
Ivar nodded, handing over the money before quickly leaving the stall, necklace clutched in his hand. She enjoyed gossip, entertaining his mother whenever she came to her stall, Ivar knew that. She also enjoyed making money. Was it really true that she liked him?
She’s spinning the girl around as Ivar comes closer, before she hugs her and turns around to find him. She almost bumps into Ivar.
“Oh sorry.” She apologizes. “I’m a bit dizzy. You know, from all the turning.”
Her hairdo is dangerously close to falling apart, and Ivar wants to fix it for her later.
“Who was that?” Ivar asks.
“That’s Bodil. I gave her the oranges so she can share with her family and friends.”
“What about you?”
“I already got fabric and a dress, AND a fur coat. I don’t need more luxuries.” She shrugs.
Shakily, Ivar grabbed the amber pendant. “I still want to give you this.”
She accepts it carefully, as if it’ll crack if she cradles it too harshly. “Thank you, Ivar. It’s absolutely beautiful.”
Then, she hugs him, in the middle of the main road. Ivar freezes, not knowing what to do. Carefully, he lays his head on her shoulder.
They walk into the Great Hall the moment Ubbe and Hvitserk return, and Ivar shoots her a regretful glance as his brothers pull him away.
“I’ll clean your room and change your bedding.” She calls after him, disappearing with her new things.
Aslaug’s POV:
Ivar and his thrall had come back from the market just in time for Aslaug to watch her disappear into his room. She didn’t trust this woman. Perhaps she would use Ivar’s trust to steal something he wouldn’t miss. Perhaps she was as ambitious as Margrethe.
Aslaug was going to find out.
The thrall didn’t notice her at first. She was pulling the linens off of Ivar’s bed, her back turned to the door. Only when she turned around did she see Aslaug.
“My Queen.” She said, bowing her head. “Prince Ivar bought you oranges. I’ve had them brought to the kitchens. Is there anything specific you’d like them with?”
“What are your intentions with my son?”
“I don’t have any intentions.” She replied.
“Why did you sleep with him?” Aslaug continued.
“I thought he was attractive.”
“Despite his legs?”
“I’m not as superficial as some other women.” She said calmly.
“Would you like to be free one day?” Aslaug asked
“Which thrall doesn’t?”
“Do you love him?” Aslaug asked finally. There’s silence from this quick-witted thrall. It lasts too long to be a lie. She doesn’t answer Aslaug at all. The queen grabbed the thrall’s jaw, making her look up at her. Aslaug noticed how young she looked. She couldn’t be much older than Ivar.
She remembered her vision. Aslaug had dreamt that Ivar would marry a thrall one day. She had also dreamt that Ivar would die at sea before he would marry. Her visions did not help her. They only conflicted each other.
“He cannot free you.” Aslaug told her.
“Being his thrall has already made me happier.” She replied.
“He’ll marry someone else. A worthy princess or an earl’s daughter. Not you.”
For a moment, Aslaug sees her façade drop. A second of hurt and jealousy. Then it was over, and Aslaug let go of her jaw.
“Break his heart.” She told the girl, “And you’ll have his family lining up to kill you before he does.”
“I know.” She replied, as if that didn’t scare her. Then, the thrall continued cleaning the bed, as if their conversation had never happened.
Ivar’s POV:
She was talking to Hvitserk. Why the fuck was she talking to Hvitserk?
He creeps closer, trying to make out what she’s saying. Hvitserk’s laughing at something she just told him, and it makes Ivar’s blood boil.
“I can teach them how to make the bread.” Ivar can finally hear her say. What?
Hvitserk sees him, and smiles at Ivar brightly. Absentmindedly, he hands her his cup, and Ivar wants to start a fight with him for disrespecting his woman. Except that she is a thrall, and all she’ll ever be is his property.
“I was just asking her about the bread she made. Now that she isn’t in the kitchen, it’ll be the old bread again.” Hvitserk explains.
“Stay away from her.” Ivar tells him, before going to her.
“Jealous?” Hvitserk teases.
“Shut up.” Ivar almost roars over his shoulder.
“If it’s alright I’ll teach the others in the kitchen how to make the bread sometime next week.” She offers.
“I don’t want you talking to Hvitserk.” Ivar says.
“He’s your brother. I’m bound to see him when I’m living in your home.”
Ivar’s hand shoots up, resting on her neck.
“He’s good with most women. I’m not.” Ivar presses out.
“And I am not most women.” She replies quietly. “I thought we’d already established that.”
Ivar could feel the anger creeping up on him. Suddenly, every man in the room was staring at her. The two shieldmaidens making out in the corner seemed to be waving her over, asking them to join. Sigurd was there, Hvitserk was there, Ubbe was there, even Bjorn was there.
They all look like they were going to take her from him. And the worst part was, Ivar knows they could.
“Go to my room. Now. Take that dress off.” He tells her, before letting go of her neck.
He stays until he can’t bear it anymore before he walks towards their room. Hvitserk throws him a look that used to be reserved for teasing Ubbe, but no one else in the Great Hall notices.
When he gets to their, no, his room, the dress is barely over her shoulders.
“That was fast.” She comments. Wordlessly, Ivar grabs her, pushing her against the door. Her back hits it with a quiet thud, and she lets him tear the dress down her shoulders. The necklace rests between her breasts, a reminder that she’s his.
His fingers are on her, groping greedily because Ivar wants to somehow show her that he loves her, and that he wants her to be his – in a way that she cannot be.
“You’re mine.” Ivar says harshly, “Only mine.”
She nods frantically, and Ivar knows that, in any other situation, she would’ve said something snarky.
“Say it.” He demands. He can feel the desperation inside him growing, he wants her to tell him she feels the same way. He needs her too.
“Yours.” She breathes out, the word ending in a moan when his hand finds her pussy.
She repeats it from her own volition, over and over as Ivar leads her to his bed and sucks dark splotches onto her skin. Her hands trail down his chest, towards his breeches and Ivar lets her do it, because this is something he can trust her with.
Her hand finds his cock and she pumps up and down, until Ivar is groaning into her neck, almost ready to beg her. When he pushes into her, it feels just as good as the first time, but this time, Ivar isn’t tense, only angry.
He wants to be gentle with her, so he kisses her slowly, lets his touch become softer. He still squeezes her neck and grabs her hips, because that’s as gentle as Ivar will ever get. When he’s done, he pulls out, using his fingers to get her to finish too.
They lie side by side in silence, and Ivar can hear the sounds of the feast taking place behind his door. He wonders if they heard them. A part of him wants them to know that he can do it. Another part wants her to be his secret.
Her hand finds his. She holds it as carefully as her necklace of amber, staring up at the ceiling. Ivar looks at her, but she doesn’t notice, and for the first time, he sees her. He sees a reflection of his anger in her. It’s hidden much better, but it’s there.
“Why are you angry?” he asks her. She hesitates, as if she’s considering lying to him.
“The merchant.” She replies.
“I can have him killed if you want.” Ivar offers. She shakes her head, beginning to smile.
“And what would that do?”
“He wouldn’t be able to disrespect you without a head.”
“It wouldn’t change anything. There’ll always be people treating me like I am worth less than cattle. It’s stupid to be angry at them, but I can’t help it. Even if someone freed me, I’d always be the former thrall.” She explains. Ivar knows that he cannot understand fully what she means, and that makes him angrier than before.
“They wouldn’t disrespect you if you were a queen.” Ivar blurts out. She turns to face him, a hand running through his hair.
“My Ivar.” She says, and his heart skips a beat. “We both know that won’t happen. You love your mother far too much.”
I love you too. Ivar wants to say, because he can hear it between the words she does say, I love you and I’d break my promise to my mother for you. I think.
“You’re the only one in the world who understands my anger.” He says instead. It has to be enough, for now.
#ivar#ivar x reader#vikings#ivar the boneless#history vikings#ivar lothbrok#ivar x you#ivar x oc#ivar x y/n#angry ivar#ivar fanfic#ivar imagine#ivar smut#vikings fanfiction#ivar ragnarsson#hvitserk#ubbe#sigurd#aslaug
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The heathen and the christian part 2
Word count: 4k+
Pairings: Ivar x OC
Warnings: depiction of violence, sexual harassment, mention on sex
As requested by @youbloodymadgenius , here`s part two
Summary: Frigyth finally arrives on the Viking`s homeland, and just when she thought things are finally settling in, things take a south.
The moment Frigyth left the safety of her family, everything seemed to be a blur. Any ounce of trust she might have had in Ivar from when they first met, was all gone. She couldn`t remember clearly how she ended up in a strange, unfamiliar tent, her hands bound tight together by a rope. To say she was frightened was an understatement. From this moment onwards, anything could have happened to her and no one.... NO ONE would come and save her.
She desperately analyzed the room, noticing a huge bed in the middle, some sort of table, and a pair of crutches resting next to a chair. Only when she directed her eyes towards the exit of the tent, did she notice a creepy looking figure, sitting on the ground and watching her, with a sinister looking smile. Her heart was back at pumping blood faster and faster, and she inaudibly gulped.
Ivar slowly crept up towards the table, grabbing his crutches, so that he could dominate over her with his height and intimidate her even more -not that it was necessary since the poor girl was already wishing she could just die rather than be there with him-.
Once he got in front of her kneeling figure, he tsked, silently ordering her to look at him.
'' I trust you know what your status is from now on, right?'' He questioned her, as if waiting for her to say no, just so he could arrogantly remind her of her new role.
Frigyth shrugged, keeping the silence of a mouse, refusing to accept that this was her new life. Because acknowledging it would be too hurtful.
'' Well, dear Frigyth... as of now... you are my new personal slave.'' Although it was pretty obvious that this was what would become of her the moment she was rudely taken away from her family, she still had a spark of hope that maybe Ivar would be kind enough to not undermine her like that. But of course that was a foolish thought.
Fighting hard against her own body, she couldn`t help but let a few tears run down her cheeks. And after those, more and more tears escaped, making her a crying mess. She was attempting to respond to him but simply couldn`t, as she was now sobbing. Ivar huffed, waved at her in a 'stop being so dramatic' way and turned around, walking towards the empty chair and taking a seat, and waited for the girl to calm down. Placing his chin in his palm, he watched her boringly as she was shaking her head in madness.
After a few good minutes, she took a big breath, calming down and finally being able to spill what she has been trying to tell him for the past hour.
'' You... YOU MONSTER. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU?! WHY ME?? LET ME GO BACK!!'' She was yelling, thrashing her body around as much as it allowed her, since her arms were tied behind her. Ivar watched with curiosity, observing how she was slowly being driven mad. She continued screaming, kicking her legs in plain air. Her tantrum was heard by two guards outside the tent, who rushed inside, going straight for the girl, grabbing both her arms and lifting her up. Ivar frowned deeply, noticing how they were going to take the girl out of the tent - and probably move her to the slave tent, where they were to be tortured-.
''LÁTTU HANA EIGA SIG. FARÐU ÚT'' Ivar shouted angrily, and by the looks of it, people around here listened to him in a heartbeat, without oposing for a second, or stumbling. Dropping her back down, she fell back on her knees, glaring as hard as she could at the guards, who turned swiftly and left the tent. ( Leave her. Get out)
Once she was once again in the presence of the crippled Viking, she huffed frustratedly, while Ivar raised his eyebrows questioningly.
'' Are you done now?'' Pointing with his hands towards the entrance, from which the two buff Vikings appeared a minute earlier, he continued '' I don`t think you appreciate what I do for you. Those guards would have taken you to training. You know what that is?'' Shaking her head no, he chuckled. '' Training is what every slave goes through. Especially those who do what you just did. They get tortured until they learn to behave and listen to their masters.''
Shuffling uncomfortably trying to find a more comfortable position, Frigyth widened her eyes, thinking of the horrors the other women must endure. She hoped with all her heart that all this was worth it, as long as her family would stay alive.
'' My parents... sisters.. they are all right? You promised to not hurt them.'' Her voice broke, eyes looking down at the ground submissively.
'' Yes. I talked to my men. Told them not to raid your little cottage. Happy?''
'' Can`t say I`m happy. I just lost my freedom to some Viking haven`t I?'' She retorted back sarcastically, subtly testing the boundaries and seeing how far she can go with her witty remarks.
Ivar hardened his gaze, once again creeping up to her slowly, planting his crutches under the ground with more force. He then threw his crutched to the ground, and dropping next to her, now they were both level to level. The only difference was, he was a head taller than her, and his status as king was intimidating her. The young leader raised his right hand, cupping her cheek in his hand, and running his thumb over it. With one quick and precise move, he slapped her firmly, leaving her in a state of shock more than pain.
'' Whatever might have happened on that day we first met, forget it. I am now your king AND master and I will expect you to act like a good slave and keep your thoughts to yourself. What I just did was the lightest form of punishment. From now on only worse ones will follow if you keep that attitude. UNDERSTOOD?'' The same hand now was having a solid grip on her neck, squeezing only softly to ensure he made his point across and she would now stay in her lane.
The first week in her new position were awful, to say the least. She was to follow Ivar around at all times, helping him around, carrying anything for him, cooking for him, preparing his baths. And as sad as it might have sounded, she was the luckiest.
Throughout her trips outisde the tent, when she was following her new master around, she was able to observe how the other female slaves were being treated worse than her. Raped, groped, disrespected and even beaten if one refused to offer themselves to one of the thirsty disgusting men, she did have to admit it to herself that she had it good. While being with Ivar, no one dared come close to her, or order her around. At least she didn`t have that to worry about.
During her first days at camp, when she and Ivar were heading towards the council to plan more strategies and talk about the future of the army, she met the other Ragnarssons. Ubbe was the second oldest, and the most mature one out of all of them. He was the first one to break a fight between his younger brothers, which was usually started by Ivar. Hvitserk was a funny guy, though he never tried to hide the lust that was poorly hidden behind his eyes when they first greeted eachother. He would often shamelessly stare at her up and down, smirking, right before Ivar would yell at him and threaten to smash his face with an axe.
One particular night, while Frigyth was warming up Ivar`s water so he could bathe, he insisted they were to discuss something important.
''We`re leaving tomorrow.'' This was the ice breaker. She didn`t know what tha meant exactly. Is he leaving and letting her stay here with her family? Very unlikely, but she would not dare ask, so she preferred to let him continue.
'' We are going back to Kattegat. And I want to tell you some things before you go...for your safety.'' He observed the girl, trying to hold any sort of eye contact, but not being succesful since she was avoiding his eyes.
Ivar sighed, both from being tired and annoyed, and cleared his throat.
''You can speak,you know?'' He reminded her, amused by her reaction when he saw her jerk up at the mention of her being able to talk. Last time she checked, he asked her to keep her thoughts to herself.
'' Ugh thank God I can speak. I was starting to feel as if I`m losing my voice.'' She joked, half expecting to get slapped again, but instead she was taken by surprise when the young boy actually let out a small laugh.
'' In Kattegat, slaves, especially christian slaves, are harassed more than others. So I make a suggestion, for your own good. Stay close to me and you will be fine. Do NOT pray to your God, or talk in that weird language, just be a good slave and listen to orders.'' He explained simply.
'' What if I DO want to pray to God hmm?'' Frigyth challenged, feeling a new sentiment of bravery.
'' Then you`ll do it in my chambers only, when everyone is busy.'' He offered begrudgingly, seeing as he had to give something to the eager girl, otherwise she would complain all day.
The following morning began earlier than usual, with Ivar commanding her along with his personal guards to pack his things and move them on his long boat. Frigyth was pushing through the mass of giant Vikings to load some of the easier belongings that she could carry for her master, trying to avoid getting stepped on.
With one final look at her homeland, she started feeling homesick already. Thinking about the fact that this might be her last time seeing those hills, the forests, this exact shore they were soon casting off from. With Ivar sitting at the end of the longboat, and next to him his dear slave, the Viking army all sailed off into the distance, back to the cold lands.
Kattegat was abnormal. That was Frigyth`s first impression upon arriving there. First thing she noticed, or rather she felt, was the cold. It was barely end of summer and back in Northumbria, the weather was still pleasant around this time. But here, it was torture. Ivar took notice of her shivering frame, and yelled at one of his men to hand her a thicker dress that seemed to have been made out of wool.
The girl did not hesitate and threw the new piece of clothing over her already existing attire. Instantly, she sunk down in the warmth it was providing her, trying to keep as much heat inside her clothes as she could.
Ivar smiled - almost lovingly- at her. ''You`re welcome.''
Frigyth blushed, out of fear or embarassment not even she knew, and replied with a quiet `thank you'.
The arrival of the army was welcome with a big feast, which was something the anglo-saxon girl was not familar with. Before the big party that night, Ivar showed Frigyth the surrounding area, trying to bring some familiarity in her.
'' These are my chambers. Where I`ll be sleeping. And that in the corner is your bed, where you will be sleeping.'' He pointed his sharp end of his crutches to a tiny bed sat in a corner. She nodded her head, not coming up with an adequate answer.
'' You should probably go to the kitchens, help some of the other servants, get familiar with the chores.''
'' But-'' Before Ivar was about to yell at her for opposing his command, she quickly continued '' I don`t speak the language. I will not undertsnad them and make a fool out of myself.'' She ended on a sad note, trying to bring the most vulnerable side of her out, in hopes to guilt trip Ivar.
Instead, as a means of comfort, he approached her, and made a new unknown move to her. He placed his dominand arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him, so now she was at evel with his chin. She glanced up at him fearfully, not knowing what his next move might be. Maybe another slap? But she was surprised all he did was lower his head and place his forehead on hers, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
Frigyth was frozen up, not daring to breathe or move an inch. Still with his eyes closed, he instructed her. '' Follow whatever they are doing. And if they give you any trouble, come to me immediately.'' And with that, he backed away from her, lowering his arm to her bum and patting it softly, indicating she left.
Opening the heavy worn-down wooden door slowly, she stepped shyly inside the warm room. Slaves and servants were running around frantically, working stressfully under the eyes of a very severe looking middle aged woman. It seemed everyone was equipped with a task. Some were cooking the food, others were preparing the mead or other drinks, some were taking horned cups and placing them in the great hall.
Her presence was noticed by a few younger girls, who seemed just as fidgety and nervous as her, so she thought they must be new as well. Not knowing what to do, she stood there awkwardly, stepping out of the way every once in a while when one of the girls was carrying something, she was spotted by the big lady that was watching over everyone, and with big, fat steps she strode over to her tiny figure.
''HVAÐ ERTU AÐ GERA ÞARNA? EKKI LÁTA HJÁLPAST AÐ.'' She yelled angrily at Frigyth, making her flinch. With watery eyes, she tried replying to her, but all in vain.( What are you doing there? Don`t just stand, HELP!)
'' I- I don`t speak your language.'' She stuttered, wishing she could get a grip on herself and not cry everytime someone yelled at her.
The lady seemed to be fuming after hearing her. Throwing her hands angrily and pointing at the girls cooking something she signaled for her to go up to them.
Striding over to one girl that seemed to her to be the nicest out of all here, Frigyth smiled kindly at her. The stranger returned the smile, and shoving her a piece of dough, indicating for her to start kneading it.
Moments later, after they were both working in a peaceful manner, and ignoring the noise from the rest of the kitchen, Frigyth stopped her actions, pointing her hands to herself and repeating her name slowly for the other girl to understand.
Furrowing her brows in response, and then slightly giggling, the young maid smiled kindly at Frigyth. '' I am Berwyn. I am from Northumbria as well.''
The gasp that left the red headed girl was so audible that other two girls turned around to look at the pair of them.
'' No... WAY. This is fantastic. I thought I would never see anyone from my homeland ever again. You do not understand how happy I am.'' She hugged the girl tightly, taking her by surprise, but she soon warmed up to her and reciprocated the gesture.
The two girls engulfed in the hug almost forgot where they were for a second, embracing each other in a comforting way, but were roughly interrupted when the old lady pulled them apart aggressively, tugging at their hair, making them wince.
She immediately started scolding them and shouting something that sounded aggressive to Frigyth, and when the old hag turned to her and asked her something, she was yet again oblivious to what she was saying.
'' She`s asking who our masters are so she can go tell them we have been misbehaving.'' Berwyn informed her fearfully, shaking in terror at the thought of what her master might do to her. Frigyth was thinking the same, only until she remembered what Ivar had told her before coming here. ' And if they give you any trouble, come to me immediately.'
Straightening her back, she proudly mentioned Ivar`s name, upon which the other girls in the room paused for a second, looking at her, some with fear, others it seemed with jealousy. The old lady widened her eyes in shock, but quickly composed herself and in an alerting rhythm, she left the kitchen.
Berwyn turned to her shocked, mouth agape. '' You never told me you are King Ivar`s slave.'' Shrugging simply, she replied wittily. '' You never asked.''
'' Who is that lady?''
'' That is Mistress Greta. She takes responsibility for us. She trains new slaves, and breaks them into becoming the most obedient for their masters.''
'' So.. what is she going to do now? Tell on us for hugging and laughing?'' She snorted.
Berwyn looked down sadly at her kneaded dough, nodding sadly. '' She is going to inform our masters we were misbehaving. And from there they will decide what to do with us.''
She was praying to God, or any other deity that was willing to listen, that Ivar would be in a good mood and would take her side. She did not wish to know what his REAL punishments must feel like.
The saxon girls both went back to work quietly, with a nervous feeling settling in their guts for the return of Greta.
The wait was cut short when the door was pushed open harshly, and Greta, alongside Ivar stepped inside. Everyone in the room, including Berwyn bowed down to him, not daring to lift their faces from the ground, or at least not until he had passed by them.
Frigyth was eyeing Ivar, who was already gazing at her with a piercing, intense look. Wetting his lips, he gestured with his hand for her to go to him. Passing by a few girls, she noticed how some looked at her with pity for what was about to happen, meanwhile others were glaring at her with envy, and she couldn`t understand why.
Being next to Ivar, he pulled his free arm around her shoulders, squishing her into his side. '' Greta has been telling me you have been neglecting your duties.'' He repeated what the hag has been telling him casually, not even a hint of anger being present in his voice.
This was her chance to win or lose it all. She could agree with that fact and let the punishment come, or she could tell him the truth and try to manipulate him into taking her side. It was about risking it all.
'' She is lying. I was working but I just hugged my new friend and she yelled at us for laughing. But WE WERE working I promise you Ivar.'' She pleaded, trying to reason with him.
The young king softened his pupils, staring into her eyes, trying to detect any lies, then at her lips, and for a second time ever since they`ve met, he was tempted to feel her soft looking lips on his own. Quickly snapping back to reality, he looked to Greta, who was eagerly waiting for a verdict, and hardened his gaze at her, talking harshly in old norse, making her gasp, along with the other slaves in the kitchen.
'' Go to my chambers.'' He whispered in her ear, and similar to a few hours ago, he smacked her butt softly, pushing her towards the exit. Frigyth left the kitchen hurriedly, but not before hearing the way he was screaming at Greta as if they`ve done him wrong.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she was fiddling with her fingers, occupying herself with anything to distract her mind from thinking what was about to happen. When she heard the door crack open, she quickly stood up and went over to Ivar, getting on her knees in front of him and placing her palms in a prayer way, she pathetically began apologizing for her actions.
'' PLEASE... Please... I promise I will no longer talk to anyone. But please don`t punish me.'' With her eyes closed, she could only feel his hand patting her on the head.
'' Get up.'' Sighing, he looked at her, sitting in front of him, her head at the same level with his cock, and he tried stopping the inappropriate thoughts circling his mind before it was too late.
'' I am not going to punish you.'' Confused, Frigyth stood up, and faced her master, tilting her head to the side. '' No?'' She asked confusingly.
'' No. You did nothing wrong. I told Greta and the other slaves that if they ever harass you, I will burn them alive.'' He smiled innocently, stroking one of her cheeks fondly.
Frigyth, for the first time in days, felt a sense of safety. She noticed, if she stayed on Ivar`s good side, he would protect her from anyone wanting to harm her. Maybe she was now beginning to understand why those servants were throwing her looks of jealousy. After all, she was one of the closest people to the king. She was going to sleep in the same room as him for God`s sake. Of course others were envious.
The feast was like none other she has ever seen. Not that she`s been to many before. Ivar instructed her to stay by his side, and by NO MEANS to go and pour the other Vikings ale or mead. She was made aware that she was HIS slave and his only.
With a small wooden chair placed next to the throne, she was overlooking the large hall. She could see anyone entering the longhouse, the slaves and servants serving thirsty men ale, and when she observed how the buff Vikings would grab the servants` bottoms, or pull them in their laps and forcefully grope them, all she could as a form of greatfulness was make eye contact at
Ivar, and thanking him for letting her sit next to him. All he did was smile, and grabbed both her hands and intertwined his hands with hers, bringing them in his lap.
It was odd for her to say it but the way he was hoding her, warming her ever-freezing hands, almost made her feel at home, in a twisted way.
Halfway throughout the evening, a drunk Hvisterk stmbled upon the steps that were leading to the throne, throwing Frigyth a very drunken looking wink, that made her giggle. Ivar just scoffed at his brother and went back to analyzing the crowd.
Hvitserk kept conversing with Frigyth, even though she couldn`t understand a thing. She was just laughing along because every two words he said, he would start hiccuping of laughing like a maniac, which in return made her do the same.
Ivar was squuezing her hands every so often, but she didn`t know why exactly. Only when towards the end of the feast, when the king seemed to hold a look that usually arrived before he would kill someone, he pushed Hvitserk away from his slave, and broke his hands free from the grasp he was having on hers, putting them around her face, and bringing her closer to him until he finally planted a rough kiss on her lips.
He moaned in her mouth, but she was too stunned to speak. Bringing her face for another kiss, she tried pulling away but he was a lot stronger. He started kissing her again, but this time was poking her entrance with his tongue, creating a feeling she has never felt before. Frigyth was desperately trying to push him away, and only after a few minutes did he finally let go of her.
As if snapping from a trance, Ivar immediately realized what he had done and before he could talk to her, Frigyth ran away, far from him.
She was now officially realizing that this is what it meant to be a slave. Only God knows what was going to happen once Ivar returned to their chambers, and she deeply wished Him and other gods would be there to protect her from his wrath.
#vikings#ivar x you#ivar x reader#ivar the boneless#ivar lothbrok#ivar x oc#hivtserk#abuse mention#harassment#ivar the boneless x oc#ivar the boneless x reader
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Ravenblade - Part 3 // Ivar Lothbrok x OC
Summary: The battle against the saxon forces is about to occur, so Ivar wants to inspect the grounds. Liv and Ivar are having an intimate moment.
Warnings: Language, light smut
Pairing: Ivar x OC
Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl
Liv watches the landscape passing to their left and right with an alert gaze. They are on their way to Wessex to bring King Ecbert to justice. Again and again, Liv feels the youngest Ragnar's son's look on her, but she tries to ignore it.
"He stares at you all the time," Sven whispers to her, and Liv looks to the other boat, where Ivar immediately averts his eyes. "His gaze is like that of an animal seeing its prey."
Liv looks at her most loyal companion. "Are you jealous, Sven?" she asks, amused, and he shakes his head.
"I'm not saying that… Just that somehow he seems a little off to me."
"So are we. Do you think my brother or Ubbe and Hvitserk trust us? Probably not," she says, steering the boat slightly to the left. "I know, my brother. He probably doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me. He knows what our motives usually are. But this time, it's different. It's something personal!"
Sven looks at Ivar again and then lets it go. Liv is right. Probably no one trusts them.
As night falls, Liv begins to sing to herself.
My mother told me
Some day I would buy
Galleys with good oars and
Sails to distant shore
Stand up high on the prow
Noble bark I steer
Steady course for the havens
Hew many foe-men
Hew many foe-men
In the second verse, Sven joins in, and Liv looks at him with a grin. In the third verse, everyone joins in, and Liv gets goosebumps.
When the song dies down, and Liv only sings lightly to herself, her gaze wanders to the boat next to them, and she notices Ivar looking at her. She holds his gaze and then smiles.
When they finally dock, they continue on foot. Liv walks next to Hvitserk er and chats with him. He actually seems quite nice.
"Why are you helping us anyway? I thought you only fought for reward," he says suddenly, looking at Liv. "And Ragnar wasn't your father."
Liv smiles, but honestly, this time. "No, he wasn't. But I did know him. In the ten years you didn't see him, I saw him often. Did you know he was responsible for me ending up with the Ravenblade?" Hvitserk looks at her in surprise.
"How so?"
"Well, I grew up with Lagertha and my father. My father was not a good man. He beat mother, and he beat me too. Lagertha had lost her will when Ragnar left her for your mother. I probably have Bjorn to thank for that being the worst thing my father did to me."
Liv lifts her tunic a little, and Hvitserk recognizes a long scar on her side.
"Björn protected me, but anger was building up inside me. Anger at my father for being such an abusive person and anger at my mother for allowing him to do such things to me. All I ever heard was what a fierce shieldmaiden my mother was, but it didn't look like that. I have never forgiven her for that. So when Björn decided to go with Ragnar, I was even angrier. Angry at Björn. But Ragnar came to see me before he left. He promised me that when the time was right, I could leave Hedeby. And so it was… He had contacts with the Ravenblade, and they came for me when I was 12 years old."
Still amazed that Liv is revealing so much to him, he listens intently.
"And how did you come to be the leader?" Now Liv laughs again.
"The Ravenblade trained me. Of course, I had training with Lagertha before that, but what I learned from them is worlds apart. I honestly don't remember what it was exactly, but suddenly I was face-to-face with my mentor. He raised me and trained me. He was the leader before me, and now I had to fight him. I later learned that when the leader of the Ravenblade takes in a ward, that tradition wants you to fight your ward when the time comes. This is where you show whether you have trained them properly."
"And you killed him?"
"I'm here, aren't I? It's part of the test. When you kill someone you love, it destroys the last bit of empathy you have in you. So you become the perfect weapon. And the perfect leader."
"That sounds kind of… extreme."
"Maybe it is. That was three years ago," she says, shrugging her shoulders.
Hvitserk and Liv continue talking, and of course, Ivar watches his brother and the young warrior closely. A stab of jealousy hits him, and he squeezes his eyes shut as Björn stops them all.
One of their scouts comes riding towards them. He tells them that the great Saxon army is a day away from them, prompting Björn to set up camp here. But it seems Ivar has other plans.
"You can set up camp," he calls to his brothers, and Liv looks at him with interest. "I want to see the place where we fight."
"What are you talking about?" asks Björn, looking at his younger brother.
"They will expect us to fight in a certain way. Why should we do that? Why don't we plan to fight in a different way and surprise them?" he asks, and Liv likes his way of thinking.
Björn waves his brothers closer to Ivar's chariot, and Liv also stands next to it. None of the brothers seem to mind.
"Our warriors will not understand what is happening," Hvitserk reflects. "We fight with the shield wall. That's how we fight."
"But we have a bigger army now. And they have a bigger army, too, Hvitserk. They don't fight the same."
"It's too late to change that now," Sigurd interjects.
Liv takes a deep breath and listens intently to the brothers' conversation. They really can't work well together.
"Who are you to say such things? Shut your mouth!"
"We are brothers! Together!" Björn now says firmly. "Why do you want to change tactics?"
"Do you want to win, brother?" Ivar asks. He knows he has Björn with him. For a moment, the two look at each other. Then Ivar rolls his eyes. "Listen… Come with me, Björn. Let's survey the battlefield. Maybe it's better if we don't keep the battlefield on a plain but expand it to hills and a few miles further, and we need their landscape. They have only hills and forests."
The brothers all look eagerly at Björn. He has the last word.
"What do you say?"
"If it works, it's a good plan. If it doesn't, it's a bad plan."
A man brings Björn a horse and he sits up.
"What are you waiting for?" asks Björn, and then Liv steps onto the chariot.
"Me," she says casually and Ivar looks at her in surprise.
"What are you doing?" he asks and Liv raises an eyebrow.
"I'm coming with you."
"Liv…" says Björn warningly, but she just looks at her brother.
"What? Six eyes see more than four. Let me help." Björn takes a deep breath and then rides off, and Ivar follows him.
In the evening, Liv is sitting by the fire when Sven sits beside her. He holds out a cup to her, and she accepts it.
"Thank you," she says.
"What are we going to do after this? When we have killed this king and avenged the death of Ragnar Lothbrok?" he asks, and Liv shoves a piece of bread into her mouth.
"The thing we always do?" she asks him and he smiles at her.
"Fighting is all good, but I'm more the quiet fighter than the one on the battlefield."
Liv smiles and takes a sip of her mead. "You've done well for yourself, though."
Sven laughs too, but then Liv notices in the corner of her eye Ivar creeping towards his tent. She sits up and follows him with her gaze.
"Liv…" says Sven, but she gets up and follows Ragnar's son into his tent.
The latter is pulling himself up onto a chair and straightening his legs. When he catches sight of Liv, his eyes grow wide for a moment.
"I'm impressed," she then says and walks towards him. "You really have strong strategic thinking. You're smart. I like that," she says, brushing her blonde hair out of her face.
"Um… Thanks, I guess," Ivar replies, then fills two mugs with mead and holds one out to Liv. She accepts it and then sits down beside him.
"You are much smarter than your brothers…. At least when it comes to tactics. You should take advantage of that."
"I know… They always think straight. But at least Björn listens to me."
Liv takes another sip and looks Ivar in the eye again. Then she stands up and sits on his lap. She takes his face in her hands, and her grey eyes meet his piercing blue ones.
"They don't give you enough credit. You are worth much more than you might think, Ivar," she whispers to him. Then she leans down and kisses him. When she pulls away from him again, he looks at her in amazement.
"Why are you doing this?" he asks, and Liv smiles.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, this? You bring me affection, but I don't know why. You're an incredible woman. And I'm just a cripple."
"Don't say that. There's so much more to you. And I don't know what it is, but something about you draws me in."
Again Liv leans in and kisses him. A little more demanding this time. She strokes his muscular chest and shoulders. She runs her tongue over his lower lip, and he opens his mouth. Their tongues dance together, and Liv can't suppress a smile.
Then she runs her tongue along his stomach and down to his trousers. As if by reflex, Ivar grabs her wrists and stops her. Liv raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"We've been here before," she smirks, and Ivar slowly lets go of her wrists.
Then she stands up, unbuckles her belt, and lets it fall to the floor. Ivar follows her with his gaze as she walks towards the bed and pulls her tunic over her head. He sees her back, which is covered in tattoos and some scars to boot.
She is wearing a bandeau that covers her breasts and holds them in place. She sits down on his bed, covered with furs, and slides back a little. Then she beckons him to her with her index finger.
Ivar hesitates momentarily but then pushes himself off the chair and crawls to the bed. He pushes himself up with his arms and slides towards Liv. He examines her body, which is simply incredible.
She is muscular but also defined by all the training and fighting. He spots a long purple scar on her left side, briefly runs his fingers over it, and Liv flinches.
"What's that?" he whispers, and she looks down momentarily.
"An old memory," she only replies, probably not wanting to elaborate.
Then he looks into her eyes again and sinks into the grey eyes that look at him in the same way. He lies down beside her, and their faces are only inches apart.
"You are beautiful," he then breathes, and Liv smiles. Warmth rises in her, and she doesn't usually know such feelings.
She never thought a man could throw her off the track like Ivar. He strokes her stomach again and slides closer to kiss her again. The feeling is just incredible. Not like with Margrethe, but really good. Her lips are soft, and Ivar's desire grows with every kiss.
He caresses her soft skin and kisses her demandingly. He feels Liv unbutton his tunic and pulls it over his head. Briefly, she looks at him, and his upper body is just incredible. From all the years on his arms, muscles have naturally formed.
Then she strokes his belly with her cold fingertips as light as a feather, which makes him wince briefly, yet the son of Ragnar sees how Liv reacts to his body. He pulls her to him and kisses her. Then Liv turns them both and sits Ivar astride.
Her hands rest on his chest. Then she reaches behind her back, undoes the button holding the bandeau, and lets it fall. She is so perfect. It seems as if the gods had carved her themselves. Ivar doesn't let this go on for long, though. He turns her again and leans over her, stroking her cheek briefly.
"I want you, Liv. You have no idea how much I want you," he whispers, and she feels his breath on her face.
Liv closes her eyes in pleasure as Ivar explores her body with his hands, kissing her repeatedly. Ivar climbs over her half-naked body and starts kissing her all over, which earns him a satisfied moan from Liv. Then he unbuttons the button of her trousers and pulls them down so that the young woman is completely naked. He looks at her briefly and takes it all in before looking into her eyes.
Then she turns with Ivar again so that he is lying under her. Slowly Liv pulls down his trousers without breaking eye contact with Ivar. As she throws the trousers aside, she looks at his deformed legs, which makes Ivar visibly anxious. Then Liv looks him in the eye again and smiles.
"You're perfect just the way you are, Ivar," she whispers, and he pulls her to him again.
He kisses her gently at first, then more and more demanding. He turns them both around again, so he has the upper hand. Liv feels his hardness against her middle, and now she, too, becomes slightly nervous.
With slightly trembling lips, she looks at Ivar. It's not Liv's first time, but it's the first time it's even remotely meant anything, which makes her all the more nervous.
He winces briefly as she reaches down and takes his hardness in her hand. Ivar kisses her again, but the feeling of her hand down there is just overwhelming. When she has placed it that far, Liv looks at him approvingly, and he slides slowly but firmly into her.
A tentative moan comes from her; for Ivar, the feeling is simply outstanding. He can barely hold himself up, so he pulls back a little and then penetrates her again, but not so gently this time. Liv opens her mouth in surprise and then slaps him on the shoulder.
"Hey!" she says firmly and looks at him.
"Sorry," he mumbles, now softening again. Slowly, eyes always on Liv to stop immediately if he should hurt her again, Ivar starts moving again.
And in her eyes, he finds only approval. And lust. He can read that in her gaze, for her grey eyes are like a storm.
He braces himself right and left against her and penetrates a little deeper, and Liv closes her eyes with pleasure before moaning. She throws her head back, and Ivar moans her name softly. She is giving him so much now that she doesn't even notice.
Not only that, he is really having sex for the first time, and then with the woman he wants, but he can do it. Carefully he takes her ankle and puts her leg on his shoulder to penetrate even more profoundly, and Liv looks at him, surprised but not averse. Suddenly he notices her tightening around his member.
"Liv?" he asks sceptically, not sure what that means, but she still has her eyes closed.
"Just keep doing that," she breathes and he does as he's told. And then she moans loudly and tears her eyes open.
A wave of pleasure rolls over her, and she presses her fingernails into Ivar's back. Then she slumps a little and breathes heavily. He has done it. He has satisfied Liv.
Confidence grows in Ivar. Then he looks at the woman of his desire. She nods.
"Go on," she whispers, and Ivar doesn't have to be told twice.
Still careful not to hurt her, Ivar begins to move faster. Liv tries to help where she can, and he can feel her. A little later, his body also tenses, and he pours himself into her.
For a moment, only their heavy breathing can be heard. Then Ivar wipes the sweat from his forehead, pulls out of her but stays on top of her. He looks at her beautiful face from top to bottom. He notices that she is trembling and then sees that Liv has closed her eyes.
All the exertion and sex with him must have taken more out of her than she thought, so he reaches for the furs and spreads them over them both. When she opens her eyes again, she looks at him.
"That was… That was amazing," he says and Liv can't help but chuckle.
"Liv, I…" he begins, but before he can finish speaking, the tent entrance is opened, and Hvitserk and Ubbe come in.
"Ivar…", Hvitserk says, but then he notices that his brother seems busy. "I uh… Sorry," he says quickly and turns away, and Ubbe does the same.
Ivar pushes himself off Liv and lies down beside her. Liv quickly gets out of bed and puts on her tunic. It is long enough to cover everything essential. She picks up her boots and puts her trousers over her arm.
"It's all right. I'll leave you to discuss your things," she says quickly and Ubbe and Hvitserk turn back around. The young woman approaches Ivar once more, presses a passionate kiss to his lips and then leaves the tent. The two brothers look after her with open mouths.
"What do you want?" Ivar then asks, annoyed that they have driven Liv away.
#Vikings#Vikings Fanfic#Ivar x OC#Ivar x Reader#Ivar the Boneless x OC#Ivar the Boneless x Reader#Ivar Lothbrok x OC#Vikings Fandom#Ivar the Boneless#Ivar Lothbrok#Part 3#Ivar Fanfic#Ivar the Boneless fanfic
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