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thepaperpanda · 1 year

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A Little Snowball Fight || Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: Your friendship with prince Igor dates back to when you cared for him as a child. One day, he introduces you to Ivar, the Viking prince from the far north. After first courtesy, a little snowball fight ensues. At the end of the meeting, Ivar makes a very interesting offer that you cannot refuse

Warnings: none

Word count: ~ 2215

Authors: Fenrir & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: Snowball Fight

Ice skating was one of your favourite pastimes, so you couldn't say no when young Igor invited you to skate - skating was especially fun when you had someone to skate with.

"Do you want to meet my new friend?" Igor asked, holding your hand as you glided across the ice together.

You glanced at him while humming softly. "Does this refer to this Viking prince? What was his name again... Ivar?"

After nodding immediately, the boy raised his head up and waved at Ivar.

Standing on top of a deck that provided a vantage point, Ivar nodded gently at Igor who was ice-skating below. Despite spending almost an hour outside, Igor was far from fatigued; Ivar was impressed by his stamina. The wooden railing was a perfect place for Ivar to rest his folded hands while watching Igor and rethinking his own matters.

In the same way that Igor did, you waved your hand to attract strangers' attention as well. Despite hearing about Ivar, you never had a chance to speak with him personally.

He kept his face straight, attempting to stay polite as he waved his hand back at you.

Soon, Igor pulled you off the ice so the two of you could join Ivar on the deck.

Ivar's lips were tinged with a smile as Igor and his female friend joined him. "Hope you are tired now, my boy," Ivar said as he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "There is nothing better than returning to the warmth of the indoors when you are freezing."

"Who said I was freezing?" Igor asked, raising his eyebrow and tilting his head as he looked at Ivar. "I am fine, but I would like you to meet Y/N. I used to be cared for by her when I was younger."

Ivar's blue eyes inspected your face and features with ease. A tone of pride permeated his introduction, "My name is Ivar, Ivar the Boneless."

"My name is Y/N. It is nice to finally meet you in person," you said, bowing your head a little.

The smile on Igor's face was contagious. "You see, Ivar? I told you I have a very pretty friend."

In response, Ivar nodded his head a little, his smile growing wider. "There is no doubt in my mind that you did not lie in the slightest."

As Ivar's eyes slipped over your body, he met your gaze and had no choice but to admit you had the most stunning eyes he had ever seen on a woman.

You gazed at Igor, then grabbed some snow to rub into his cheeks, causing him to whine and laugh simultaneously. "As I told you before, Igor, be careful not to say things like this. It is rude to suddenly speak in such a manner."

It would have never occurred to Ivar that you would be the first to initiate a fight. He watched the scene with amusement. His question came out of the blue moments later, "Are you Russian, Y/N?"

A smile spread across your face when Igor hugged you, hugging him back you looked at Ivar "Как думаешь, красавчик?"

"My first impression of you was that you're one of the most temperamental women I've ever seen."

Laughing softly, you bend down to whisper something into Igor's ear; a smile spread across Igor's lips. Looking back at Ivar, you smiled. "Thank you so much for your kind words. I really appreciate them."

Observing Igor interacting with you, Ivar slowly cocked his eyebrows. "My lady, aren't you aware that whispering in company isn't considered polite?"

"Aren't you aware that strangers shouldn't listen to certain matters?"

In spite of a temperature way below zero, Ivar's soft chuckle that escaped his lips was accompanied by a little cloud of steam. "That's right."

"Don't worry, I didn't say anything derogatory about you, or did I?" You teased, looking directly into Ivar’s eyes.

"She said she loves your eyes," Igor revealed your little secret without hesitation.

Ivar observed the two of you and decided not to comment on what Igor said, instead he nodded his head. "Maybe we should take a stroll back inside?"

Igor shrugged and said, "The two of you can go inside, I'd like to stay a little longer."

As you sighed, you looked at the boy and shook your head; he was impossible to get fatigued easily.

After politely waiting for you to move, Ivar followed you to the stairs and down on the ground level.

Taking a look at Ivar, you asked, "How's it going here for you? I hope Igor isn't bothering you too much."

The man shook his head eagerly, "No, he isn't bothering me at all. Igor is such a wonderful young man. He reminds me of myself when I was his age," Ivar's tone faded into silence. "Are you from here or did you come from somewhere else?" He asked, smoothly changing the topic.

"It's funny how you are so curious, aren't you? I was born and raised in this place, so I can truly say that I am from here," you replied politely, raising an eyebrow.

While walking through the ice and snow covered path, Ragnarsson listened to your words. A crutch-dependent person found walking in such conditions to be a challenge, so Ivar was stopping from time to time.

A worried look crossed your face as you looked at the young man. "Ivar, I am sure all the snow must be a great burden for you. Can I help you in any way?"

Your polite pleas for assistance went unanswered. Who did you think he was? Although he was crippled, he was capable of walking on his own, so he didn't need any kind of assistance. "Isn't our winter beautiful?" He asked, again changing the topic.

The hint was taken and you did not press any longer. "Despite the cold, it's beautiful. As usual."

"Do you like winter?"

"Well, not really. It's cold, and I don't really like skating because of it, but it's still fun."

"What other winter activities do you fancy?"

As you walked behind Ivar, you quietly grabbed some snow and moulded it into a ball and threw it at Ivar's back. "Snowball fights."

The moment Ivar was hit in the back, he turned around to look at you. "Seriously? Have you thrown a snowball at me? Isn't it kind of silly for someone like you?"

"You asked what winter activities I enjoy, so I showed one to you," you gave him a shrug in a form of response. "You don't have to be so stiff."

Ivar stuck his crutch in a snowdrift and slowly leaned forward to collect some white fluff, which he formed into a ball before throwing it skillfully at you - the ball hit your left shoulder. "I'm not stiff, Y/N, as you put it. I just prefer observing and planning."

"Isn't that exactly what you called? I observe and plan how to..." You threw another show ball at Ivar, hitting him in the stomach, "... Successfully throw snowballs at you."

Observing you, Ivar cocked his eyebrow and threw another ball of snow at you, hitting your cheek with it this time.

You gasped and wiped snow off your face. Your response was, "Oh, you! You're dead!" By saying this you made a big snowball and got ready to aim it.

When Ivar observed you making a snowball, he wondered how a dodge could be made.

The snowball was thrown right at his face as a way to pay him back.

As Ragnarsson couldn't dodge, snow got into his eyes when the ball struck his face. With his vision blurry, Ivar took one tiny step back and flopped on his butt in the snow as he tried to wipe his eyes.

You ran up to him, whispering, "Oh, gods! I should have been more careful!"

Ivar's facial expression initially displayed anger and disbelief; eventually, these emotions dwindled and he laughed as a smile spread over his lips. "Okay, that wasn't what I expected. It was a strong hit, Y/N."

As you wiped snow from his cheek, you quickly began to apologise. "Thank you for not being angry with me, but I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have... Your legs..." Your voice was nothing more than a tiny whisper as you looked at his face. "Forgive me, please."

He caught himself staring bluntly into your eyes - they were huge and had the most beautiful colour he had ever seen. He had a burning sensation in his cheeks from your hands as you slowly rubbed snow off of him; he discovered your palms were so warm and felt cosy. "It's fine."

"You seem to be getting warm... Are you feeling sick? Oh! I shouldn't keep you out too long today, it's cold," suddenly, you started to panic.

Your sudden solicitude surprised Ivar, who raised his hand to signal you to remain silent for a moment. “First of all, it is cold, yes, but I am accustomed to it, so no worries there. Second thing, stop worrying, nothing wrong is happening. Deal?"

Biting your lip, you nodded slowly, still feeling bad and hoping you didn't hurt him. "Let me assist you with getting up."

After a moment of thinking, he accepted your hand and slowly stood up. "Thanks."

A smile of apology appeared on your face as you squeezed his hand. There was still a feeling of guilt in your heart.

Another snowball aimed at Ivar's shoulder struck him suddenly. "For Valhalla's sake, what was that this time?" The young man grunted, looking around, only to see Igor gathering snow into his hands already, forming another ball with a smile on his face.

Looking at Igor, you blinked and shook your head. Before a snowball hit you right in the face, you managed to utter only a quiet, "No, Igor, don't..."

Using his forearm to block another snowball aimed at him, Ivar shouted, "Better stop it now, dear boy!"

"Come on, Ivar! It's fun! You can practise your combat skills with me now! Let's fight!" Igor shouted enthusiastically.

Ivar, instead of responding, slowly leaned down, made a huge ball from the snow he gathered, and then threw it at Igor, hitting him in the face. "It's for aiming at the lady."

A snowball thrown by you hit Igor before the boy could prepare another snowball to throw at Ivar.

"It's time to show the little one what it's like to start a fight with the adults!" You briefly looked at Ivar, a mischievous grin dancing in the corners of your mouth.

Ivar was throwing ball after ball at Igor, occasionally chuckling to himself as he did so.

As soon as you did what Ivar did, poor Igor was scrambling to surrender.

Ivar slowly limped closer to you with his crutch in hand and asked you quietly after leaning closer to you, "Y/N, are we accepting his surrender?"

Keeping your eyes on Ivar, you hummed softly. "It seems like it might be a good idea. What do you think?”

"I agree."

"Then I agree too," you nodded at Ivar, then looked at Igor. "It's time to get inside before we get sick."

After looking at you for a moment, Ivar gave you a nod of approval. Although Ivar wore a thick fur coat and a hat to keep himself warm, he began to feel cold under the clothes. "The idea is good, Y/N. We could get some warm drinks."

Before Igor joined you, Ivar offered you his shoulder after shaking the snow off his thick fur. "Shall we, Y/N?"

In response, you accepted the offer, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and discovering with surprise that his shoulder was very well-built and seemed to be very strong, even with the fur covering it.

Biting inside of your cheek, you tried not to get distracted by thoughts that crossed your mind. "With pleasure, Ivar. Also, I’d like to point out that your combat skills are also impressive, you have a very sharp eye,” you praised him, feeling the blush spreading across your cheeks.

In spite of his crippled appearance, Ivar was far from being an idiot, and he immediately noticed a slight change in your behaviour after you got closer to him. He suggested politely, "I was wondering if we could enjoy a pint of mulled wine and discuss our likes and dislikes a little more?"

Your eyes never left his as you tightened your grip on his shoulder and gently nodded your head. "It will be my great pleasure, Ivar the Boneless."

Both of you didn't seem to notice Igor standing right beside you, hands resting on his hips. "It is not my intention to interrupt your lovely exchange of views, but I am hungry, and I know Oleg will send guards looking for us if we don't return inside soon. I know you two get along really well, but let's leave it for later, shall you?" The young prince gasped and walked to the front door of the palace. “I can’t handle their teeth-rooting sweetness,” he whispered to himself.

Ivar rolled his eyes after listening to Igor's rant and led you back to the palace. "Having Igor between two fires tomorrow might be a wise idea if he continues to behave this way."

#ivar the boneless #Ivar x reader #ivar x you #Ivar the Boneless #Ivar the Boneless fluff #Ivar fluff #Ivar the Boneless x reader fluff #Ivar the Boneless fic #Ivar's heathen army #Ivar Ragnarsson #vikings #prince igor #vikings x reader #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fluff #vikings ivar #paperpanda winter writing event #writers on tumblr

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ivarandersen · 22 days

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I’ve started watching Vikings again! And getting the inspo to write that fic I started like… 5? 6 years ago? … You know, back when I had free time and I didn’t have to pay for health insurance T_T

(All my old tags are still queued up and ready post so that makes life easy lmaooooo>

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bouncehousedemons · 1 year

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Milk

Rating: E Pairing: (Modern) Ivar the Boneless x female character (second person, no use of y/n) Warnings: Smut, cunnilingus Word count: 450

Summary: Ivar hates milk. Until he tastes it on your lips.

Read the full fic here.

#vikings fan fiction #vikings history #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar fanfiction #ivar's heathen army #vikings ivar #ivar x you #vikings fic #vikings history channel #vikings fandom

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underscorewriting · 2 years

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Destiny | Part two

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: heated make out, fluff

Part One

1076 Words

The woods were quiet. Peaceful. They hid their beauty between the tall trees. Her breath was going fast, her smile still on her face, she doesn't think it even left, ever since she saw Ivar. The time went by, waiting for him she begun to feel a worry settle in her stomach. What if he wouldn't show up? She'd look like the biggest fool.

Hearing the leaves rustle around her she released a breath she didn't know she held. As she looked at the prince she saw him walking with his crutch. A frown was on her face, thinking about how uncomfortable it must be for him to walk with it in the woods. "Good morning, my prince." With a smile she bowed her head down slightly.

Ivar chuckled softly shaking his head. "Even though I do love how it sounds, coming out of your mouth. Just call me Ivar." A blush crept onto her cheeks as she nodded. "I'll remember that, Ivar." She smiled at how his name left her lips. A small smirk was on his face as he watched her reaction to saying his name.

"So, why the woods?" As they started walking, her nerves came to an ease. "It's quiet. Not many people come out here and if they do then they don't stare." The lines on his forehead told her that he got stared at a lot. "I wouldn't stare..." She whispered quietly lowering her eyes to the ground. The prince shook his head softly. "But you did, back in the great hall before we talked. You stared at me."

A deep blush made it's way onto her face. "You saw that?" He nodded slightly, watching her carefully. "I apologize deeply, but it wasn't what you think it was." Ivar was confused. Why should her staring be different, everyone tried to talk themselves out of it, but he was ready to listen to it this time, because it was her trying to talk herself out of it. "I didn't stare, not out of pity, I mean. I thought you were quiet attractive."

His eyebrows shot up. This changed the situation a lot. A smirk found it's way onto his face as he watched her even more careful this time. "I didn't have any bad intentions or thoughts behind it, I promise." She gave him an apologetic smile.

Without knowing it she pushed his ego more than what was healthy. "So you thought I was attractive, huh?" The smirk didn't seem to leave her face, holding his head high. The girl lowered her head, secretly liking the teasing tone of his voice. "I did, my prince. After talking with you the feeling deepened." It was her turn to tease him. A soft innocent smile on her face as she stopped to lean against a tree, watching Ivar closely.

The boy turned to her, looking her up and down. "You're quite the tease, aren't you?" His thoughts of the night before coming back into his mind. "Honestly? No, but I'm happy it's working." She giggled shyly. "It's working wonders..." He whispered walking closer. His eyes not once leaving hers. Again, she felt like she was drowning in his eyes. Drowning in the ocean behind them. His free hand was on her hip as he pushed her up against the tree. A quiet gasp escaping her, only encouraging him to continue.

The smirk just wouldn't leave his face as he looked down at her. "I'll be sure to tell your brother how I had to look up to you..." Not knowing what to say in the situation the girl thought back to how Sigurd interrupted them the night before. The prince chuckled softly, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're too precious for your own good, love." He kissed her cheek softly. She could feel a burning sensation the moment his lips met her cheek, almost letting another gasp escape her.

"I should let you go, protect you from myself and save you from being so perfectly ruined by me." He squeezed his eyes shut, almost like he was in pain, his forehead back against hers, letting a sigh escape him. "But I can't. I want to be selfish, have you all to myself." Her hand found his cheek. "Ivar, you can have me." Her voice was sincere, he never felt like he did right now. His heart was beating out of his chest. "No, not that." His face twisted in disgust for a second. "Oh..." She was about to pull her hand back.

He was quicker, grabbing her wrist and placing a kiss on her palm, placing it back onto his cheek. "I didn't mean it like that. Well, maybe that too, I wouldn't mind laying with you, pretty girl. But I mean being with you. I want to have you in any way." His eyes opened again, looking at her with an intensity, that if she wouldn't have been pushed against the tree, she would've got weak knees.

His mouth placed kisses everywhere, her neck, her cheek, her forehead, but they wouldn't go near her lips. "I need your answer." His voice was husky as he was torturing her with kiss. "Please, Ivar.." A whimper left her lips and he chuckled darkly shaking his head. "Keep those words for later, just tell me, can I have you in any way I want?" His hand wandered up to her chin, making her look up at him. His thumb pulling her lip down slightly.

She was trembling at that point, trying to stay strong, so she could tease the young prince, but her self control was getting weak. "Yes! Yes, Ivar, I'll let you have me in any way you want to. Just please-" A loud gasps escaped her, but it barely left her before Ivar kissed her hard, pulling her closer, caressing her cheek. His crutch long forgotten on the floor. His hand grabbing her hip, pushing himself up against the tree in secret as well. As they both needed to breath, he pulled away, keeping his forehead against hers.

A smirk was on Ivars face as he mentally pictured how shocked Sigurd will be, when he walks into the great hall with his newly found woman by his side. He would marry her, he knew it. That's what he meant with having her in anyway he wants.

He could already picture them dining with the gods in Valhalla. Gods, how he couldn't wait.

#ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fluff #ivar fanfic #ivar the king #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar x y/n #ac valhalla ivarr

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mrsalwayswrite · 2 years

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Fjaka (Ivar x reader)

Summary: You dwell on the thought of how sometimes doing nothing with Ivar makes you the happiest.

This is my entry to @doctorwhoandfairytaillover short and sweet challenge! Congrats on all your followers! I'm so happy for you!

Fjaka (Croatian)– "the sweetness of doing nothing"

The book quote at the beginning of the story comes from one of my favorite books 'Mara, Daughter of the Nile', page 210. (if anyone is interested)

Words: 699

Warnings: Pure, sugary fluff. Soft Ivar. One swear word.

Triumph swept over Mara, giving way immediately to something so much stronger and deeper that every other reality dropped sway. She found herself clinging to him fiercely, caught up in an emotion more compelling than any she had known. For once she did not plan or scheme or use her wits, since it was quite impossible. She did not even think.

You closed your eyes for a brief respite, allowing the emotions of the story to flow over you like a gentle stream. The character Mara could not place a name to this new feeling carving its way into her being. But you could – love.

Lifting your gaze, you stared at the man sitting on the couch with you. Your legs stretched over his lap, his arms rested on them as he held a game controller. His radiant blue eyes glued onto the TV screen, playing some video game that frequently made him swear and grumble about getting his brothers back. Laying the book in your lap, but careful not to lose your page, you rested the side of your head on the leather couch, admiring your fiancé.

You thought back to your own declarations of love. It was not intense or overly romantic like in the book you were reading. A slave and a lord, betraying customs and social conformity, throwing themselves into an well of hopeful love, only to hit rock bottom.

No, your own declarations were much simpler, more tranquil. It happened laying in bed next to one another, the morning sunlight spilling over you two. Neither of you moved, even as both of your alarms had blared repeatedly already. Instead, words of contentment, satisfaction and love filled the narrow space between your bodies. Nothing profound. Nothing world-shattering. Just an acknowledgement shared in that moment, solidifying the dedication and love between the two of you.

He must have sensed your gaze on him, since he spoke without removing his eyes from the TV screen. "What?"

"Nothing."

This time he quickly glanced at you before turning back and humming his disbelief.

"I just…I guess I was just reminded of how much I love you."

"Are they fucking in your book right now?"

"Ugh! No! That's not why!" You smacked his shoulder lightly with the side of your book, not that the book was actually thick enough to do much damage. "I was just….thinking."

With a quirk of his lips, he paused his video game. Using a single finger under your chin, he guided your lips to his. The kiss he placed was so gentle, so tender, you were unable to do anything but melt under his touch and lean into him wanting more. No confection, no sugar, no candy or chocolate could ever be sweeter or more satisfying than this kiss. For it delved deep into your soul, further wrapping you in the knowledge of his complete and utter love for you.

Ever so slowly, he drew back to kiss the tip of your nose and then turn to his prior spot. "I love you too." After that, he returned to his game, unpausing it only to then colorfully swear about some idiot on the screen.

The smile on your face could easily rival the sun in its brightness. With that adorning your face, you opened your book back up, returning to the characters and their newfound, forbidden love.

You were happy in the contentment, the simplicity of your life with Ivar. It may not be riveting or dramatic. Certainly nothing that would ever be written about or made into a song. But that did not matter. It was these quiet moments shared between the two of you that were your favorite, and his. Unlike the characters in your story, whose love was like a threatening storm; the love shared between you and Ivar was an oak tree – strong, resilient and peaceful with deep roots.

Your life with Ivar had its ups and downs, like all relationships, but it was these moments where you seemed to be doing nothing together….they were what spoke loudest of the happiness surrounding you two. The joy of companionship and just being with one another. A simplicity that is profound.

Tag List:

Vikings (all)

@youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille888 @quantumlocked310 @errruvande-2-0

Vikings-Ivar

@breezykpop @frankie-undead-dame

#mzwrites #short and sweet challenge #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar's heathen army #ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless x reader #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern vikings

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nanahachikyuu · 2 years

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five-star hotel // modern!ivar x reader (part one of two)

Summary: sometimes, love results in heartbreak. That’s just life, and there was nothing she could do about it. But what if the reason for her anguish was also the very same one that brought her so much bliss?

Pairing: ivar x reader

Type: miniseries

Warnings: angst, heartbreak

Word count: 3.325

Music insp.: Hotel Caro by Baco Exu do Blues & Luísa Sonza (at this point, let’s just assume me picking Brazilian artists is the norm).

A/N:

This is the first time I’ve written for Ivar, but the moment I listened to this song I immediately related it to him. I guess my brain is just wired to connect anything angsty with our dear Ivar The Boneless. It’s very different from what I usually write, and I am aware that this trope has been done a thousand times, but I wanted to give it a try

Please, listen to the song! I know it’s in Portuguese, like most of the songs I pick, but I believe it’s possible to feel the heartbreak just from the rhythm. Nevertheless, I loosely translated some of the lyrics that inspired the fic.

Gentle reminder that English is not my first language, and this was not proofread.

I'm thinking of you smoking a cigarette An empty bathtub, an expensive hotel Honestly, I’m tired If it was you who made a mistake, why do I feel guilty? (hotel caro by baco exu do blues & luísa sonza)

Y/N was over-the-moon excited when Ivar shared his plans with her.

She had been invited by her boss to work with her for a trimester at another branch and had jumped at the opportunity. But, as amazing as it was for her career, it’d keep her away from Ivar for three whole months.

Altogether, they had been apart for two months now, and there was still one more to go. So, when Ivar called to share the news, how he had already booked a hotel room for them, the best available in town, she was over-the-moon excited with the possibility of seeing her boyfriend earlier than expected, and, better yet, have a romantic weekend away with him.

Y/N had gone all in on his idea, even spending more money than she normally would in a dress she just knew he’d love. She had spent the hours before they’d meet getting ready, choosing the lingerie he loved to see her in, putting on makeup that made the colours of her eyes stand out, even watching a YouTube tutorial to master the technique. When Y/N looked at herself in the mirror of her small temporary bathroom, she felt powerful. She was ready to slay, and Ivar Ragnarsson was her chosen victim.

It never crossed her mind the fact that Ivar hadn’t contacted her the whole day, neither to confirm or cancel their plans.

She arrived at the hotel room early, wanting to surprise him. She wanted to see the look on his face when he walked in the room and saw her already there, waiting for him. Also, she missed him like crazy and couldn’t wait to see him.

There was an armchair in a corner of the room, and she moved it, so it was facing the door. Grabbing a bottle of wine she found in the minibar, she sat on the chair, legs crossed, and a glass in hand. The clock on the wall told her it was almost eight pm. Ivar would be there at any moment.

So, she waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It was nearing midnight when Y/N finally accepted that he was not going to show up. By that time, she had finished almost two bottles of wine, still sitting on that same armchair, staring blankly at the door. By then, she had stopped listening to the elevator, no longer perking up to every noise out in the corridor. Was that the sound of his crutch hitting the floor? Well, if it was, she didn’t care anymore.

The one thing she could not believe was that she was, once again, in that situation. She had trusted him with her heart one more time, and he had stomped it to pieces. Again.

She knew Ivar. She knew him better than anyone else, even better than his overprotective mother. She knew that if there had been an emergency, he’d find a way to contact her. If he couldn’t reach out to her himself, he’d send one of his brothers, he’d find a way.

Y/N remembered a specific episode a couple of months into their relationship, when they were supposed to have dinner at their favourite Greek restaurant. But he was over an hour late and all her calls kept going straight to voice mail. That was the first time she thought he had abandoned her. However, just as she was about to leave the restaurant, hungry and desolate, she spotted Ubbe. Ivar had had a minor accident that afternoon, and was in the hospital ever since, just as a precaution, but since he didn’t have his phone and couldn’t contact his girl, he had sent his brother to find her.

But this, left stranded in a hotel room, in a foreign country, when he was supposed to meet her? She knew better. He had every intention of leaving her. This was part of a thought-out plan, a meticulously crafted one. Honestly, she couldn’t even blame him for this one. What was it people said? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

The first time Ivar pulled something like this, she had cried her heart out for days.

Y/N was telling her friends and family about this amazing guy she had met. All her friends noticed how smitten she was, walking around with heart eyes. Even her mother pointed it out when she brought him to a family festivity. Ivar had won over her mother and aunts the second he walked into her childhood home, carrying a small bouquet for each one of them. Y/N believed she was living the fairy tale she loved to read about as a teenager. Until she wasn’t.

One day, he simply disappeared. Ivar stopped answering her calls and replying to her texts. He had disappeared with the blink of an eye, as easy as that. When a week had gone by without any news from him, she decided enough was enough. After work, she went straight to his apartment. Y/N was going to make him talk, weather he wanted it or not. Civilized people had conversations and she was going to make him act like one for once in his life. However, when she got to his building, the doorman said he wasn’t home, and hadn’t been for the whole week. But he did leave a box for her to pick up, with all the stuff she had left at his place inside, she later found out.

That night, Y/N had gone back to her apartment and cried into the night. And the following days. She didn’t tell a soul about what had happened, how could she? How could she face her family and friends after everything she had told them about Ivar? She believed he was her very own Prince Charming, but it turned out he was just another jerk. Who believed in fairy tales, anyways?

For days, she regretted going by his place. She should’ve known better. If he wanted to talk, he’d come looking for her. All her life, she had judged her friends who always wanted to talk to their partners, to tell them how much they had hurt their feelings. Y/N never understood that need. She’d always argue that they knew that, they just didn’t care. Not receiving a message is also a message, right? Well, just look at how the tables have turned!

However, two weeks later, he came back. She had gone to the movies, her first outing since he left, and when she came back, he was sitting by her door, a huge bouquet of her favourite flowers in hand, one for each day they were apart. For hours, she let him apologise, beg her for forgiveness. He had gotten scared, he got cold feet. He loved her and didn’t realise how much he needed her until it was too late, how he couldn’t live without her. They could go away together, just the two of them and rekindle their relationship. But please, please, she had to forgive him, she had to accept him back!

It was the first time she had ever seen him cry, and the last one. That’s what had gotten to her, she had to admit. Seeing Ivar shed tears for her touched a place in her heart she thought he had damaged forever. So, she agreed. Y/N accepted him back into her life with the promise that he’d never do something like that ever again. If he had doubts about their relationship again, they’d talk it out, together, as a couple.

And just like that, they were back into their very own fairy tale. It was like they were never broken up at all. Their love was stronger than ever, and nothing could tear them apart. Or so she believed.

She just couldn't understand how they ended up here. Again. Y/N kept repeating the last months of their relationship in her head, trying to find the moment where things had changed. Trying to understand if she had done something wrong. However, she knew there wasn’t one. During their time together, Y/N hadn’t been anything but faithful. She knew Ivar had his own issues, even understood some of them; he also required attention, so much attention. Ivar needed someone who understood he wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, but that would devote themselves to him, nevertheless.

So that’s what she did.

Y/N loved Ivar, and there was never a day that went by where she didn’t tell him that. She’d repeat it to him until he’d get embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning red. She’d point out every little detail about him that mesmerized her. Be it his looks, his intelligence, his devotion to her and others he cared about.

She loved it when he’d frown his eyebrows when reading a book. How he’d always pick her favourite movies for them to watch before she even said anything. The way he’d defend her against his brothers’ mocking, even though she was pretty well capable of doing so herself.

In return, she’d keep her fridge stocked with his favourite drinks. She’d send his favourite lunch to his work every time she sensed he was so deep in his work that he forgot to eat. When his legs were hurting too much, Y/N would have his medicine ready, his work brought to him, his bed, or her bed, if they were at her apartment, clean and comfortable. She’d do all that without acknowledging his condition, because she knew how much he hated to feel incapable.

She hadn’t done anything wrong; she was sure of it. So, why did she still feel guilty?

What did he tell her once? Oh yeah, he might break a bone, but he could never break a promise. Oh, well. Apparently, she wasn’t included in such promise. Who would’ve thought? Not Y/N, for certain.

Lingerie the colour of late afternoon Who taught you the way to me? Lying is also hiding the truth Why didn't you take care of me? My darling, loving you so much is not good But it makes no difference I don't want your presence Don't trade me for anyone What is fighting good for? May you win

“Weren’t you going away this weekend?” Hvitserk asks his brother.

They were having their usual night out, just the brothers, and it wasn’t unusual for Ivar to tag along, even if he claimed to hate the city’s club life. But he was almost certain Ivar had mentioned something about travelling to meet his girlfriend.

Ivar takes a moment to realize his older brother was talking to him. But when he does, he just glares at the man.

“Trouble in paradise, I see”, Hvitserk remarks. Honestly, he was surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Ivar had the bad habit of pushing away everything that was good for him.

“Mind your own business, brother”, Ivar answers back, already regretting his decision to join his brothers at the bar.

“What did you do, Ivar?”, Hvitserk tries again.

“Why is it always me that does something wrong? Why couldn’t it have been her?”, the dark-haired brother rebuts back.

Hvitserk doesn’t bother with an answer, just stares at his little brother, one eyebrow raised. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the audacity of Ivar. The nerve!

The last thing Ivar wants is to talk about his relationship with Y/N, that being the very reason why he joined his brothers. Luckily for him, Björn got Hvitserk’s attention, distracting him from the matter momentarily.

The weight of what he’d done was heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t shake off the image of her alone in that hotel room. When the hotel management had called him to let him know that his guest had arrived, like he had instructed them to do, Ivar wanted to cry. He wanted to get on the first flight, make up an excuse about his delay, and spend the rest of the weekend apologising to her.

But he couldn’t.

He was so sure what he was doing was for the best. Why postpone the inevitable? Just so he could have a few more memories to replay when he was laying by himself in bed, missing her warm body pressed up to his? No. Ivar wasn’t like that, he wasn’t one to avoid pain, life had built him like that. Thus, better than wait for his heart to be broken, he anticipated the result. He ended the relationship before it had the power to end him.

Ivar was about to open a bottle of whiskey to drown out his thoughts when he remembered his brothers were meeting up that night. At the time, anything seemed more appealing than spending the night by himself, thinking about her. So, he jumped at the opportunity. But now, sitting at a crowded bar, still nursing the same beer Björn had handed him when he arrived, and, worst of all, facing his brother’s scrutiny, he regretted his choice. He should have stayed home.

“What crawled up your ass?” Sigurd asks suddenly, noticing the sour look on Ivar’s face.

“Fuck off, Sigurd” Ivar snarks back. He was already at his tipping point, and if Sigurd wanted to start a fight with him, so be it. He needed a way to let out some steam anyways.

“I just asked a question, no need to get offended” his brother argues back, but the little smirk on his lips makes it clear that he knew what he was doing. He wanted to get a reaction out of Ivar, and he was about to get one.

“Come on, guys. Let’s chill, ok?” Ubbe, always the peacemaker, intrudes on their exchange.

Ivar could feel Hvitserk’s stare burning on the back of his head. He knew that his brother had not fallen for his bullshit attempts to distract him. He could never lie to his brother; he’d always see straight through him.

“Hey, Ivar” Hvitserk calls, “I’m not feeling too good. Think you can follow me home?”. It was clearly a lie. The man, being the designated driver, hadn’t touched a drink all night.

He debated his options for a second. It was already past midnight, and it would be next to impossible to get an Uber home. He could walk, but his legs were a bit sore from spending the day on his feet. But most of all, even though he didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he also didn’t want to stay at that bar a second longer.

“Yeah, sure” is all he responds, before standing up, gripping hard to his crutch.

The drive home is silent, and he’s thankful for that. Hvitserk had the habit of opining on his life whenever he got the chance. But, as they grew older and closer, he also learned when not to interfere, and Ivar would be forever thankful for that, especially on a night like this. Not that he’d ever tell his brother that.

“Do you want me to go up with you?” Hvitserk breaks the silence when they arrive at Ivar’s apartment building.

“No!” he answers abruptly. As much as he was thankful for the get away ride, he didn’t wish to spend anymore second with his brother, because if he did, he knew he’d cave and tell him exactly what had gone down that night, and he was not up for the speech that would follow. “I mean, no, but thanks”, he tries again, in a much gentler tone, one that surprised Hvitserk as much as his abrupt response, if not more.

“Hey, Ivar” he hears his brother call for him, just as he was about to leave the car. Standing by the passenger door, Ivar bends down so he can look at him.

“Whatever happened, between you and Y/N, I know you two can work it out. Just have a little faith in yourself, ok?”.

Ivar doesn’t answer, just closes the car door, and walks towards his apartment.

It was hours later when Ivar finally dragged himself to bed. After he had gotten home, he wandered around the apartment, purposely avoiding his bedroom, the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep Y/N out of his thoughts. They shared so many good memories inside those four walls, and now it felt like they were all coming back to haunt him. How was it possible that a place where once he felt so much peace, now left him suffocated?

Now, laying in bed by himself, Ivar wondered if what he did was really the best choice. If he had followed through with his plans like he had initially planned, he’d be with her right now. They would’ve gone to dinner, where she’d share with him all the news about her job, and he’d complain about working with his family. Then, they’d make their way back to the room, where he’d show her just how much he had missed her. Finally, she’d put on his discarded shirt, and lay in bed with him; her hands running through his dark hair, softly lulling him to sleep. He never had a good night of sleep as good as the ones he spent with her.

The images were playing out so vividly in his head, it was like it was happening right in front of him. Ivar could feel the tears burning his eyes, so he finally let them go. He’d let himself cry, just for tonight. Tomorrow, he’d put his armour back on, and move on with his life.

The fact that he kept himself away from what would’ve been her side of the bed wasn’t helping. But Ivar couldn’t bring himself to lay on her side. He was sure the pillows would still smell like her, even though it had been months since they last shared the bed, and the sheets had been changed many times ever since. Reaching out, he touches one of the pillows, fingers running through the soft material.

He never understood how someone could sleep with so many pillows, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to put them away. It was like a part of him expected her to come back. As if one day he’d wake up and find her sleeping peacefully by his side, hands tucked beneath her head, lips parted, hair disheveled. Every time he woke up first, he’d stay in bed, admiring her features, imagining what would it be like to wake up next to her every single day, for the rest of his life.

He knew he had made the right decision. Loving someone as much as he loved her couldn’t be considered healthy, and he knew their tragic fate was just around the corner. One day, Y/N would realize the mistake she’s made. She’d finally understand that he wasn’t who she deserved. She’d get tired of putting up with his sorrow ass and leave.

Or worse.

She could be lying. What if all this time they were together she was lying to him? What if all the times she had said she loved him, she wasn’t being truthful? What if she had already met someone new? She had spent the past couple of months by herself in a different country… Weren’t there a million rom-com movies about that trope?

Honestly, the possibilities were infinite. So many things could happen. Just look at his father’s history. Ragnar married twice, had children, built a family. Both his wives devoted themselves to him, and still he wasn’t satisfied. Nowadays, he was just a shallow of the man he once was. He had so much and still couldn’t find happiness. What if that was his fate too?

No, he couldn’t end up like Ragnar. He was better than that. And that’s exactly why he did what he did, he had to remind himself. It was better to end things by his own terms than live by the volatility of other people's feelings. It was better to suffer now, when he was prepared, than be taken by surprise, be blindsided by her.

So, that was it.

Tonight, he’d let himself feel the pain of the breakup. He’d allow himself to remember all the reasons why he loved her so fiercely. All the little things that made her so unique in his eyes.

But tomorrow, it must come to an end.

Tomorrow, he was going to move on with his life, whatever it takes.

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#vikings imagines #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar imagines #modern ivar #ivar's heathen army #vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #ivar the boneless #nanahachikyuu

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the-girl-in-the-box · 1 year

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Not Today XLII

A/N: And we're finally back with another update! I posted on my last update to Can You Imagine? That I was going to try and get on a system of posting an update weekly, rotating which fic I'm updating, which means this will probably be updated about every three weeks going forward. So that said, I hope you all enjoy being back to this story, and I hope you'll stick around for the coming updates- I told you this wasn't abandoned XD Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Asta felt like she was going to explode. Talking to Olaf had brought up all the grief she’d felt over the years, everything she felt she had locked away when she left Kattegat, and now it was threatening to burst out of her if one more thing happened to bring it out of her. That’s why she needed to talk to Ivar- if anyone would know how to stay sane in the face of everything they were facing… Well, it wasn’t him, but he could help her sort through things at the least.

She let Hvitserk lead her back through the town quickly, indulging herself in the protective arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders. How would she be able to stand it if something were to happen to him, or to Ivar? She’d already lost so much… Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle it- and not like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d handled what had happened so far just yet. If she went through it in her mind- the father she hadn’t known, Heahmund, the father she had, Aethelred, her mother, Freydis, Lagertha, Bjorn… And those were only the deaths. What about Alfred, and Torvi and Ubbe who she hadn’t heard from in… who knew how long at this point?

Her mind turned back to something her beloved Freydis had once said to her, after the death of the Bishop Heahmund. When she had confessed her heart had broken with news of his death, Freydis had told her that her heart would repair. But that had been before everything else she had lost. She wasn’t so sure anymore that was true. Very suddenly, she held out her hand and held it to Hvitserk’s chest. “Wait,” she said, and he looked down at her confusedly.

“Princess?” he questioned. “What is it?”

“I think I need to be alone,” she confessed. “I need… I need to think. Please.”

“Of course,” Hvitserk replied. “Where will you be should we need you?”

Asta swallowed, looking out over the mountains. “I’d say wandering, but that wouldn’t be of any help, would it?” she said with a quiet chuckle. “There’s a clearing not far from here, take the path out of Vestfold and follow it to the east. I’ll be there.”

Hvitserk nodded a little. “Be careful,” he warned her. “Keep your sword about you at all times, just in case.”

“I will, thank you, Hvitserk,” she replied. “Will you let Ivar know?” She didn’t worry about clarifying, sure enough of him to believe that he would know what she was asking him to tell his brother. And happily, she saw she was right, as Hvitserk asked no questions. Instead, he kissed her on the head and wished her well before heading toward the palace.

Now all alone, Asta started down the path she’d indicated to Hvitserk, keeping an eye out as he’d requested. Besides, as little as she trusted Oleg and his men, she didn’t want to take any risks.

In the days since Asta left Wessex, she had noticed something about the way she’d picked up Viking customs. She didn’t pray the way she once did, not anymore. She had grown up praying in church, on her knees in the pews, hands clasped together and head bowed. Now, she just… prayed. The rituals had all stayed behind in England, and in their wake was left comfort and familiarity, a relationship as opposed to religion. Freedom she hadn’t once known.

Unlike Kattegat, Kiev had been stifling. She had to hide so many things there, for fear of what Oleg may do if he learned, even having to resort to hiding away to say a prayer. It wasn’t because Oleg had something against Christians- on the contrary, the man claimed to be one himself- but rather because everything he believed about her would begin to unravel if he learned this one truth about her. Asta knew Oleg would never understand how a wanderer who came to Kattegat, and became the wife of Ivar the Boneless, had become a Christian in her time there in Kiev- and to not partake in the rituals of the Kievan Rus would simply make him question things even more. She knew if he continued to pull on that thread, it would inevitably lead him to the truth- that she was English, and nearly everything he knew about her was a lie. No, she couldn’t allow that.

Thus, she waited until she was well enough alone to pray, and even sought out a hidden place to do so. Somehow, she found that just stepping into that space released the restraints she felt she now lived her life in, and she let out a long breath as she felt the peace of it wash over her. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed quietly, her voice nearly a whisper. “My life has changed… so much in the past years, Lord. My family are all but gone, my past buried so deeply inside me that I can hardly tell where the truth ends and this lie begins. Add to that how miserable I feel with each and every lie I tell, and I just… I’m so lost. Telling my story to King Olaf has brought it all back, every part of myself I’d silenced, and I know now that I cannot continue on this path I’ve set myself on. But what happens to Ivar and Hvitserk, if I reveal the truth? They’ve known me for years now, won’t Oleg know this? Know what they’ve done in helping me to conceal this? What will he do to them for covering the lie? I need You to show me what I am meant to do, to give me the strength to do it. I’m so afraid, Lord… of losing anything more than I already have.” She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “Help me overcome these fears. Bring me back to You. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted Asta, and she turned back to see Hvitserk running down the path. “Asta, you need to come now,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “They are going to kill King Olaf.”

Asta’s eyes widened as she processed the words, and she blinked a few times. “What are we doing?” she questioned. “What does Ivar want us to do?”

Hvitserk shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered. “He wants us to attend the execution, but we will not interfere. He wants to keep Oleg’s trust still.”

As little as Asta liked the idea of just letting this happen, she nodded. “Alright,” she replied. “Then we should go.”

They nearly ran back to town, to the docks where the execution was to take place, so they wouldn’t miss any of it, and by the time they wormed their way up to the front Asta could see that Olaf had already been tied down to a chair. Ivar, Oleg, and Igor were there as well, standing up at the front to watch the execution. Hvitserk moved to lean against a post nearby, while Asta came to stand beside Ivar, watching as two men stepped forward and began to pour oil all over… the wood piled around the chair? Oh. It was then that Olaf began to speak, and Asta’s eyes widened.

“There is someone beside me,” he said.

Oleg frowned. “There is no one beside you,” he said. “You are all alone.”

“No, there is someone beside me,” Olaf reiterated. “Although I cannot see Him, I know He is here.”

“How do you know, you old fool?” Oleg demanded.

“Because He speaks to me,” Olaf said. “I hear His voice.”

Asta swallowed as she realised what he meant, and a chill ran down her spine. Anticipation began to build in her. Listen.

Hvitserk glanced over at Asta, noticing the suddenly attentive gaze she had pinned on King Olaf. He hadn’t confessed to this earlier, but he’d heard the tale end of her prayer. He knew now what the woman was struggling with, so he asked, “And what does He say?”

Olaf answered, “He says, ‘He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. I am the resurrection and the life. I shall walk beside you. Always. Always.”

Asta was stunned. I shall walk beside you. She glanced over at Ivar, who she could tell understood the point of Olaf’s words, and had grown concerned. Why, she couldn’t say, but she knew what it meant to her. She had to do what was right, and the rest wasn’t up to her.

Still, she was distracted from trying to figure that out by Oleg’s interruption, as he instructed Igor, “Don’t listen to him, get on with it.” When he shoved the boy forward, a torch in hand, Asta felt anger boil up inside her. He was really going to make a child do this? He had the gall to order a man’s death, but not to go through with it on his own? To do it himself? She wasn’t sure her opinion of him could get any lower than this. Then, she noticed how anxious Igor clearly was, and her heart clenched.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured from beside Ivar. “He’s a child…”

“I know,” Ivar whispered in return. “But we cannot stop it. Not without raising suspicion.”

She swallowed again as she heard Olaf trying to comfort Igor, even as the young Prince was preparing to end his life. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, though in Asta’s experience that rarely actually helped.

“I can’t,” Igor replied.

“Think of me as already dead,” Olaf advised. “Nothing more can hurt me. Not the thunder, nor the deep swell of the waves, nor yet, the tongues of fire.”

Igor turned back to Ivar, as if silently asking whether or not he should go through with this, and while Ivar nodded to encourage him, Asta glanced over at Oleg. He was clearly quite unnerved by this, seeing that Igor preferred Ivar’s encouragement to his own, and that, at least, brought a small smirk to Asta’s lips as she turned to watch the execution again. Let him stew on that. Children rarely sought strength from the person who pushed them too far, anyway.

The boy knelt down in front of Olaf, lowering the torch toward the pyre built at the King’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Olaf replied. “My lands are in order, and I am ripe for Heaven.”

He offered Igor a reassuring smile, and Igor finally lit the pyre, before standing and beginning to back up. Ivar reached out and wrapped his arm around him to pull him back, protecting him from the flames that grew quickly to ensnare Olaf within them. To the surprise of most there, however, the man lifted his hands as if in prayer, and gave nothing even close to a cry of pain as he was consumed. Oleg shook his head and stalked off.

For once, his behavior left Asta unbothered as she watched Olaf’s life fade before her eyes. She hadn’t known him for very long, but she had quickly realized how wise he was, the depth of his knowledge, and the fact he had asked the question that had been the catalyst to her awakening was something she couldn’t simply overlook. It hadn’t taken very long at all, but King Olaf had become quite an influential figure in her life. But the Lord worked in mysterious ways, she knew, and all paths crossed for a reason. She found herself thanking God for Olaf’s life, and for the chance she got to meet him, swallowing as she blinked to clear the wetness from her eyes. The crowd began to disburse, and Ivar asked her if she was coming along with him, Hvitserk, and Igor, but she answered that she wanted to be left alone for a while.

She stayed until there was nothing left to stay for, a lone figure on the dock.

Eventually, Asta returned to the Great Hall, and she quickly became aware of Ivar at her side. “My love,” he whispered, disguising it with a kiss to the side of her head. “Are you alright? Hmm?”

She nodded slightly and leaned her head over against his. “Just tired,” she answered. “I don’t think I’ll stay for the feast tonight. I need to get some rest, think about some things.”

Ivar frowned, not convinced at all that Asta really was ‘just tired’ as she said. But, he wasn’t about to force the truth out of her in front of this crowd, so instead of trying he simply nodded and kissed her head again. “I’ll come and join you soon,” he promised. “And I’ll bring you food and drink. Go rest.”

Asta smiled up at him lovingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t know how much of a comfort you are to me.” She leaned up to kiss him softly, and rested her forehead against his, taking a deep breath as if she could draw some sort of strength from him. Ivar returned her kiss before pressing one of his own to her forehead, and releasing her.

She wandered off to head to their room, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Igor’s head and telling him she was proud of him, and when she got in there, the sounds of the feast now distant, she felt a weight come off her shoulders. Running a hand through her hair, she went and flopped down on the bed. It was then that her door opened, and she looked up to see who had come in.

If there was anyone she had expected to see, it wasn’t Igor. Still, she smiled a little when she saw him, sitting up to greet him. “Igor,” she said. “Can I help you with something?”

“You did not seem like you were well when you left the feast,” he told her. “I wanted to come and see what was wrong.”

Asta let out a touched sort of sound and smiled at him, reaching out to invite him to come and sit with her. “Oh, sweet boy,” she said affectionately. He did as she offered and settled in beside her, so that she started to run her fingers through his hair. “I’m more worried about you than you need to be about me. How are you after today?”

Igor swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to kill him,” he said. “I’m not even sure what he did wrong.”

This brought forth a sigh from Asta, who ended up laying back with Igor and holding him close still. “Nothing,” she said. “Your uncle wanted him dead because he feared the loyalty King Olaf could inspire in the remaining Vikings. This sort of thing isn’t exactly uncommon in war, but…” She paused and gave a soft sigh. “It wasn’t right, especially not the way it was done. Your uncle made the decision, and he should have seen it through himself- not passed it off to his young nephew. I can’t tell you how sorry I am he did that, and how much I wish he hadn’t.”

Igor shrugged a little as if he wasn’t all that bothered. “He said he wanted to teach me how to be strong,” he said. “So I had to be the one to do it.”

“Killing a man doesn’t make you strong, darling,” Asta told him. “Although you are strong for enduring what your uncle made you do today. But killing in itself isn’t what defines strength. In fact, your uncle showed a lack of it when he didn’t kill King Olaf himself.”

“He did?” Igor asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She hummed as she nodded. “He did,” she confirmed. “Never forget this, Igor. If you ever decide to execute a man, you must always be willing to carry it out yourself. If you aren’t so convinced it’s the right thing to do that you have the strength to do it, then it isn’t right. Do you understand?”

He nodded at her. “I think I do,” he confirmed.

It was just then that the door opened again, and Ivar was coming in with a plate full of food, a cup balanced carefully on it and leaned up against his arm. He blinked a few times when he saw his wife and Igor laying together. “Did I miss the invitation?” he deadpanned.

“Yes,” Asta teased him in response. “I was just telling Igor how he couldn’t trust you anymore, and he could only trust me.”

Ivar raised a brow and asked Igor, “Is that true?”

“No,” he replied. “She was teaching me about strength.”

“Ah,” Ivar said. “This makes more sense. I did not think she would betray me that way.”

Asta chuckled softly. “Mm, but he could be lying, you’ll never know,” she joked.

Ivar smirked and brought her food and drink to her. “Then I suppose I will just have to trust you,” he answered, and once the food was sat on the small table beside the bed, leaned down to kiss her softly.

That was when Igor gave a fake gag and got up. “I’m going to go now,” he announced, causing Asta to fall into a fit of giggles. “Enjoy… that.” He shuddered and then walked out of the room.

“Should we have stopped him?” Asta asked, looking up at Ivar and trying not to laugh, especially when he shrugged.

“I wanted to see if you were doing better anyway,” he said. Her laughter died down instantly. “Mm, you are not. Hvitserk told me you had left the village to pray. You only leave for that when something is bothering you. What is it?”

Asta swallowed and looked away from him, sitting up slowly as she took in a deep breath. This wasn’t a conversation she had expected to have this way, but… she had asked for a path, hadn’t she? The time had simply come to take it. She looked back up at him, and said, “I think we need to talk.”

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @crashbyers, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood, @lotr-got, @dekusdante

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc #ivar's heathen army #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #not today #chapter forty-two

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oddsnendsfanfics · 1 year

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This one makes me think of Modern Finan. Or Modern Ivar 🤷‍♀️

#mark rowley #alex høgh andersen #oddsnendstlk #oddsnendsvikings #ivar the boneless #finan the last kingdom #finan the agile #the last kingdom #let's be danes ⚔️#vikings #ivar's heathen army #Spotify

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ceridwenofwales · 1 year

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I hope you haven't stopped completing the writing.

This is frustrating every time I look for a new update

If you have been bored

please just say that

I mean a sequel

Alpha and Omega:

As a reader, I completely understand the frustration of waiting years (literally) for an update.

As a writer, it's just a combination of real life challenges and lack of inspiration, not boredom. I have a timeline of events planned for the story, but it's difficult to find energy and inspiration to fill in the holes of the almost written chapter.

I still have the intention of adding more chapters to Alpha and Omega, but I won't give a deadline anymore as life throws some curve balls at us.

#vikings #fanfic: alpha and Omega #ivar the boneless #ivar x moyra #ivar x ofc #vikings fanfiction #ask: alpha and Omega #ivar's heathen army

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cbouvier23 · 2 years

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#sons of anarchy imagines #sons of anarchy #soa #ivar lothbrok #vikings #vikings imagine #herman kozik #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivarthebonelessimagine #juice ortiz #ivarthebonelesss #samcro #vikingshistorychannel #ivar's heathen army #kenny johnson #alex hogh imagine #kozik #vikingimagine

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thepaperpanda · 1 year

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Affected By Music || modern!Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: Although Ivar dislikes the Christmas songs you listen to, you somehow convince him that they're not that bad.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1435

Authors: Rouge & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: enjoying the Christmas music

You sat at the table, trying your best to cut a neat Christmas tree from the thick, green glitter paper you held in your hands - the task was far from easy as the paper was thick enough to be difficult to cut through, even with the kitchen scissors. You were listening to Last Christmas by Wham! from a radio playing quietly, standing on the windowsill. Throughout the song, you weren't even aware you were rhythmically rocking your foot.

"For Fuck's sake!" Ivar yelled, walking to the radio and turning it off.

Since the morning, the song had been drilling into his brain - he was sick of it. "I will throw the radio out the window if I hear this cursed song again."

After his outburst, you stopped cutting the shape in the paper. You rolled your eyes and said, "Don't be a drama queen today. It's Christmas time! Cherish it! Christmas songs are all over the radio right now in the end, so better get used to this."

"Sweetheart, I see what you mean, but Christmas is only like two days, right?" Ivar looked at you annoyed. "And they start playing this shit on repeat a month before. It's annoying."

"It's not annoying," you replied, putting down the scissors and paper. When you got up, you walked to the windowsill and turned the radio on once more. "... but the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special," the song was crooning on the radio.

In a frown, Ivar pulled out the plug to make sure the radio wouldn't play again. "I'm serious Y/N. I'm tired of hearing this song everywhere."

Leaning forward, you pulled the plug from his hand and reconnected it. "That wasn't fair! Why are you always so angry and grumpy?"

"Because it's annoying. When I'm annoyed during a game, you tell me to put on my headphones," Ivar commented. "And I do it because I respect you, so it's your turn to respect me as well."

It annoyed you when Ivar acted like that, and unfortunately he was prone to it quite often. "There's no comparison between the two. Whenever you play your games, you become nervous and show your worst traits. I respect you, but it also goes the other way, doesn't it?"

"So you can open Spotify and put on headphones, sweetheart," Ivar said with a wry grin dancing in the corners of his lips.

It hurt you to hear Ivar's words; you had worked hard to create a festive atmosphere in your shared flat, and Ivar had never been so wry toward you as he was now. "Whenever the weather cools down, I can't wait to hear Christmas music. I even listen to it in the summer when I craft or while I read, because I like this type of music, but if you don't like it, I'll switch to Spotify," you said, unplugging the plug and putting it down on the wooden floor. As you returned to your seat, you got your JBL headphones, put them on, and paired them with your phone.

It was just a stupid song and you acted like you would be locked up in the house, so he rolled his eyes.

While he was happy that it was quiet again, you started humming whatever you were listening to soon after.

You hummed with a smile; your notes fell carefree in the air around you as you were rocking your feet again, this time shaking your head from time to time.

As Ivar let out a heavy sigh, he walked towards you and placed his hand on your back before leaning forward to kiss your lips.

The reaction was unexpected for you, but you returned the kiss. You looked at your boyfriend after removing your headphones. "What was that for?"

"To stop you from humming that cursed song," he raised an eyebrow after explaining.

After exhaling, you made a sad face and rubbed your temples. "Ivar, Ivar." You stood up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice before returning to your seat. After setting the glass on the table's counter, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know what?"

As Ivar wrapped his arm around your waist, he muttered, "What?"

You began singing and rocking your hips from left to right, "Last Christmas I gave you my heart..."

"... But the very next day you gave it away," he sang along, shaking his head. "You are an annoying brat, you know that?"

You rubbed your nose against his and reminded him, "This is exactly why you fell in love with me."

"Honestly? I'm not sure if I did the right thing," he said with a sigh, furrowing his brows a little, smirking as he looked down at you.

You climbed on your tiptoes and stole a kiss from his lips, discovering with amusement that his mouth and tongue tasted like the gingerbread you baked the other day. While humming the song, you asked him playfully, "Not too much frosting on the cookies though?"

"Shut up," Ivar scoffed, wrapping his arms fully around you. Slowly, he began to rock with you, humming the song along. "They were a bit sweet."

"Despite their sweetness, you ate them all," you giggled, rubbing his nape.

"Yeah, but I'm sure I'll get sick of their sweetness," he joked.

While you rocked to the beat of the music, you nuzzled his chest and listened to his strong heartbeat.

Before saying anything, Ivar rocked with you for a moment. "I'll let you listen to those annoying Christmas songs if you keep being so cute."

"I will listen to them even if you will be angry with me," you said. "The sweeter you are, the more I would like to apologize to you."

"You're a brat," he sighed and squeezed your hand tightly. "Turn on that radio before I change my mind."

After clapping your hands, you immediately went to do what he told you.

He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping you wouldn't actually turn it on.

Soon, Jingle Bells filled the room with its rhythm and you began bouncing around to the music.

Facepalming, he already regretted that he let you turn the radio on.

Your arms reached out to catch his shoulders and soon you were dancing with Ivar.

As Ivar's hands moved down your back and rested on your ass, he murmured, "I'll never understand why people may consider all those silly, thematically similar songs during Christmas time. They are so fucking annoying!"

"Once the Christmas spirit fills you fully, honey, you will stop finding them irritating and you will realize they are sweet and they help spread that spirit all over," you told him, wrapping your arms around him.

"If you say so," Ivar shrugged lightly, but when Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You played on the radio, he closed his eyes and hissed. "No, no, not this fucking one! Sorry, Y/N, but you'll never convince me Mariah isn't annoying. Can you hear this voice? It's so shrill!"

After observing Ivar's reaction, you giggled and tugged on his thick, dark hair, causing him to raise his head, enabling you to kiss his jawline. "I have a little, angry kitten here, haven’t I?”

A sigh escaped Ivar's lips. "We could do something nice together and I'd be happy to let those songs play in the background. What do you think?"

"Ivar, what do you have in mind?"

Smirking mischievously, he tugged at your shirt. "Don't make me beg for it, you know too well."

Obviously, he meant some cuddles with a "happy ending", but you had a cunning idea. I'm sure you'll help me bake gingerbread again to compensate for the fact that you've eaten all of it apparently, and I promised Hvitserk that I would deliver a portion of it to him this Christmas."

Slowly, Ivar's eyebrows rose, and he grunted deeply. "Oh, okaaaay! But later you're mine, in all the fucking ways. And fuck Hvitty, his only ability is to eat all the time, fuck.”

Your lips were tinged with a smile. "That's true, but it's so sweet in my opinion."

"That's cute in your opinion, but you scold me every time I eat anything you cook! And you somehow don't make heart-eyes while speaking about it!” Ivar seemed to get offended.

Ruffling his hair, you asked him to follow you to the kitchen. “Let's stop talking and start baking or I’ll sing All I Want For Christmas Is You all day long!"

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therealcalicali · 1 year

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Ivar the Boneless - Vikings

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivars heathen army #ivar ragnarsson

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bouncehousedemons · 1 year

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Lust

Rating: E Pairing: Hvitserk x female character, Ivar x female character (written in second person, regrettable use of y/n) Warnings: Smut, angst, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, brief mention of abortion Word count: 8k (7 chapters)

Summary: Hvitserk liberates a farmer’s daughter from her quiet life in Northumbria, only to have his younger brother take a keen interest in her.

Read the full fic on AO3

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voxmortuus · 2 years

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Consideration

Okay... so after much consideration on leaving and coming back... I've chosen to come back... I want to focus on a few fandoms... Peaky Blinders, The Boys, and Hannibal... and MAYBE Dracula Hemlock Grove Vikings, and Stranger Things... Maybe I'll take a few requests... kinda get me going....

#peaky blinders fanfic #the boys fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #dracula fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #the boys x reader #hannibal x reader #dracula x reader #peaky blinders smut #the boys smut #hannibal smut #dracula smut #hemlock grove fanfiction #vikings fanfic #ivars heathen army #vikings smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #tellingyouastory

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nanahachikyuu · 2 years

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five-star hotel // modern!ivar x reader (part two of two)

Pairing: ivar x reader

Type: miniseries (read part one right here)

Warnings: depictions of an unhealthy relationship, angst, kind of a happy ending, ooc Ivar

Word count: 5.131

Music insp.: five-star hotel playlist

A/N:

When I first started writing this story, it wasn’t meant to have a happy ending. In my head, there was no space for forgiveness. I’ve been breaking my head to turn things around so I could deliver something happier, and this is what I came up with, thus the unhealthy relationship warning and why it has taken me so long to post it. I’m sorry if I let anyone down by it.

The pictures on the moodboard are from Pinterest, and the bench one is by Will Paterson on Unsplash.

Gentle reminder that English is not my first language, and this was not proofread.

You lie so badly, pretend so badly It's on your face, you haven't forgotten me Different bodies, different smells to forget mine

The first time Ivar tried to leave her, he succeeded for exactly 19 days.

At the time, everything in his life was going downhill. Or perhaps he just felt so overwhelmed that it seemed like nothing was working out for him. Was it his lifelong treatment that was weighing down on him? Did he have another fight with one of his brothers? Maybe his father had let him down once again? Honestly, after all this time, he couldn’t quite place what was going through his mind then.

But, despite all the turmoil in his life, all he cared about was her. She was the only thing that mattered to him. Not his problematic family, not his overprotective mother and detached father, not his ungrateful coworkers. Her. Only her.

That’s exactly what scared him the most.

He needed Y/N. No, he craved her – her ongoing presence in his life, in his house, in his bedroom. The security of having her beside him while everything else was going to shit. A feeling he had never felt before in his life. She was his very own personal haven.

He had never planned this, to be in love.

The issue is that Ivar never realised that was exactly what he had been looking for. Throughout his life, all he ever wanted was for someone to love him past his disability, despite his difficult personality, and exclusively because of who he was. That’s exactly what he found in Y/N – he just never realised it until it was too late. Until she was gone.

Also, Ivar believed himself to be a pragmatic man.

So, one particular night, instead of calling Y/N like he wanted so badly to do, to soothe the ache in his chest like only her could, he spent the night playing out scenarios in his head. Each and every one of them ended up exactly the same way: with him being heartbroken, betrayed, left behind, abandoned. There wasn’t a single possibility of a happy ending.

The very next day, Ivar ghosted her.

However, things didn’t work out the way he thought it would.

Ivar planned everything down to every second. He had schemed his whole life – to every new scenario, he had a response ready. That’s how much he liked to be ahead of things. If something worked out differently than what he had initially thought-out, he already knew what to do. Still, none of his plans included falling in love. Not once in his life he considered the possibility of having such strong feelings towards someone he wasn’t related to, and thus morally obligated to love. Therefore, a decision that was taken in his best interest only resulted in the exact heartbreak he wanted to avoid in the first place.

In the first week, he read all of her text messages. He stared at his phone when she called, until the screen would go dark again. He listened to every single voice mail she had left, craving to hear her voice just one more time. Y/N had disappeared completely from social media, so he lived off the crumbles she was leaving him through her attempts to contact him.

That is, until even the crumbles weren’t an option anymore. After his doorman had called up to his apartment, to let him know that she’d been there to pick up her things, the text messages stopped; there were no more calls, no more voicemails. All he had from her were the memories she had left behind. It hurt more than he ever thought possible.

19 days later, Ivar was at her door, begging her to take him back.

He had meant everything he had promised her then. He really did. But then he recalled why he had left in the first place. So, he did it again.

This time around, though, things were much different. There was no news from her. She never came looking for him, never tried to contact him like she had done before. Just 45 days of radio silence. But, unlike the last time, he witnessed firsthand how she had moved on. Or as firsthand as Hvitserk’s Instagram account would allow him to.

“By the gods, Ivar!” Hvitserk snapped. “Why do you need my cellphone for?”.

Ivar had stormed into his brother’s office the moment he noticed his arrival at the company and hadn’t left since, not before he got what he came for.

“I just need to check something on your Instagram”, he replied matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal, but something he did all the time, which clearly it wasn’t.

“Please Ivar, enlighten me on what exactly is on my Instagram that’s not on yours. As far as I know, we follow the same people”, he asked, leaning back on his chair, arms crossed on his slim chest. Hvitserk knew exactly what Ivar wanted, he just wanted him to say it out loud.

“You know what, never mind” Ivar answered simply, leaning into his crutch to stand up from the chair in front of his brother. He wasn’t going to leave really, but he knew exactly how to get what he wanted from his big brother – if he had to play the “drama queen” card, then so be it.

“Why don’t you just reach out to her instead of torturing yourself like this?”, Hvitserk voiced. He just couldn't understand why his brother was putting himself through hell like this. Not that he didn’t deserve it for pulling what he did, but still.

Ivar doesn’t answer immediately, but only sits back on the chair in front of Hvitserk’s desk and stares at the other man like he just told the funniest joke.

“I suppose it would be this easy for you, huh? Just a snap of your fingers and all your women come back crawling to you”, Ivar challenged, not at all happy with the turn of the conversation.

“It’s not what I meant, Ivar, and you know it. I’m just saying that maybe if you talked things through…”

“What? She’d come back to me?” Ivar interrupts him. “She’d come back to the cripple who abandoned her?”.

“Come on, Ivar…” he starts, but he knows there’s no use. Ivar was in over his head and nothing he’d say would help him change his mind. So, instead of pressing Ivar to continue the conversation, Hvitserk just scribbles down something on a piece of paper and hands it to his little brother.

In return, the dark-haired man stares at the paper his brother handed to him, sighing with relief that he finally got what he’d come for, and could now leave.

“Your password is ‘Shaggy and Scooby’?”.

“GET OUT!”.

She hadn’t blocked him; he was certain of that much. Her profile picture still the first icon he saw every time he logged into his own Instagram account. But Ivar was indeed a very proud man and didn’t want her to know he was checking all her pictures and stories. So, he turned to Hvitserk, annoying his brother until he gave up his password.

That’s how he found out she had moved to a new apartment, on the other side of town from his own place. That she had adopted a cat, a black ball of fur named Frigga that followed her everywhere. He never thought he’d ever be this jealous of a kitty. Ivar saw all her new pictures, watched every single story she shared, he even went as far as stalking the strangers who left comments on her photos. Y/N looked even more beautiful, if that’s possible. And he was more hurt with each new day that passed.

Every morning, Ivar woke up oblivious, imagining that she was still sleeping peacefully next to him. And every morning he opened his eyes to find the space next to him empty. There was no warm body pressed up to his, no arms holding on to him for dear life, no fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. Only the ghost of her left behind, and the reality of having to face yet another day carrying that heavy loneliness on his shoulders - one he'd brought upon himself.

45 days after he had left her alone in a hotel room, Ivar was, once again, facing the abyss her absence created in his life. Honestly, he was proud of himself for keeping his distance this long. But that particular day he just couldn’t take it anymore.

He wondered if he told her he was sorry, it’d be enough for her to come back to him, to forgive his latest mistake. He wondered if he apologised, he’d once again come home to find her in his kitchen, wearing his old Zeppelin shirt. He wondered if he’d once again have the opportunity to come up behind her, slip his arms around her waist and pull her closer to his chest, his face hiding in the crook of her neck while she cooked their dinner.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to go home that day. The reality of getting home to an empty apartment, to yet another silent night – he just couldn’t face it. At that point, he wished walls really could talk, just so he wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened, not really. He woke up still feeling desolate, endured a day’s work and Hvitserk’s ongoing scrutiny, attended meetings with Ragnar, had lunch with Floki, and more than once considered quitting his job and pursuing a career away from his family’s company. However, when he entered the car, instead of telling the driver to head home, he gave him Y/N’s new address – an information he had acquired due to his pitiable stalking, helped by the fact that Kattegat wasn’t a very big town, and had very distinguishable streets, especially for him who had spent all his life there.

Ivar had felt pain in his life, but nothing compared to what her absence was doing to him. And he just couldn't take it anymore, he had reached his breaking point.

The driver had stopped the car a block away from her apartment and, while he was gathering up the courage to walk out of the car, Ivar saw her. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, otherworldly to his eyes.

Y/N was at the park across the street, sitting on a bench with an open book on her lap, cellphone in hand. From afar, Ivar sees the moment she breaks into a smile that takes his breathe away. He couldn’t hear her laugh from this distance, but the magical sound played out in his head as if she was right there next to him.

As a tear slides down his cheek, Ivar signs for the motorist to drive away.

Two weeks later, he’s at her door again. A part of him can’t stop from laughing at the irony of his current situation. Almost a year before, he was at that exact same position. That time, he had waited for her for hours, and when she finally appeared, he had begged her to take him back, to accept him back into her life.

Only this time, he didn’t go in. He couldn’t bring himself to knock on her door.

Even from outside in the corridor, it was possible to hear the music and the loud voices coming from inside her apartment. She was clearly having a party – just another proof that she had, in fact, moved on without him.

Ivar raises his hand to knock on the door but can’t gather up the strength to do so. She’s got company right now. It’s better to talk when they can have privacy, right? In all honesty, he barely had the courage to come up to her apartment, let alone face her for the first time in weeks with witnesses to his misery.

So, rather than knocking, Ivar turns around and enters the elevator.

Prioritizing myself seems to choose to lose you Don't leave me alone, leave me close to you Bad relationships are much easier to forget I know it's going to hurt since it was so good

When Y/N left that hotel, she promised herself she would never, ever, allow Ivar Ragnarsson back into her life again.

After she cried herself out of tears, Y/N changed out of the dress, gathered up her things and as she walked away from the building, she’d also walk away from the love she had for him.

Easier said than done.

Moving out of her old apartment and into a new one as far away from his as possible was the only way she found to distance herself from the memories that haunted her. When the loneliness in her new place became too much for her to bare, she adopted a kitty to keep her company. Little Frigga was the only light in the darkness that had taken over her life. She kept going out with her friends, as if she wasn’t dying in the inside. Her plan was simple – if she acted like everything was fine, then eventually it would be, right?

She was alright. She was alright. She was alright.

Maybe, if she repeated the words enough, it would become a reality.

What she couldn’t understand was why, after all Ivar had put her through, after all the pain, all the tears, after he had let her down and broken her heart in so many pieces she couldn’t put it back together. Even after all this, she still missed him. She still suffered for what they had and what they could’ve been. She still longed for the man who hurt her so deeply.

All Y/N wanted was to teleport back to those days where it was just the two of them. When Ivar would talk endlessly about his latest discovery on his family’s Viking heritage, and she’d listen to him intently. But every now and then she would lose herself in the depths of his blue eyes, until he’d pinch her thigh to get her attention, complaining that she wasn’t listening to him. He was an introvert to the world, but not with her. When it was just the two of them, he could talk for hours on end.

Y/N wished she could live forever in that brief moment when someone wakes up, and before reality comes crashing in. She wished she could spend all her waking minutes in that peaceful instant, when everything felt right, and she didn’t have any recollection of being rejected. Where he was still laying beside her, eyebrows frowned because they had, once again, forgotten to close the blinds in their rush to get to the bed the night before. But then she’d turn on her side, arm reaching out to him, only to find the empty space, and the realisation that no, she didn’t have a nightmare. It wasn’t a bad dream she had in her sleep, but her true reality. Ivar really wasn’t there anymore.

Other times, she wished she had never met Ivar. Y/N wished she could go back to the day they met – when she was new in town and dependent on her inexistant sense of direction. She walked into the little café seeking help, and Ivar had come for the rescue. And to change her life forever. She wished she could go back to that day, only to warn herself about the heartbreak the handsome man with those dazzling blue eyes would inflict on her.

She tried to maintain a routine, something that’d give the impression that things were normal. She woke up, got dressed, went to work. Y/N went out with her friends, attended birthday parties and celebratory dinners. She even went out to a pub one day, but the possibility of meeting Ivar or one of his brothers kept her on edge the whole time. But then the night would come again, accompanied by that never ending loneliness. She’d go home only to be suffocated by her walls, like it was closing down on her. That deafening silence that was the new playlist to her dinners, a remarkable contrast to the sound of Ivar’s laughter.

In contrast, one of the things Y/N loved to do was visiting the small park near her new place. She loved watching the kids play and listening to their giggles and laughter of pure joy brought her a peace she hadn’t felt since that fateful day. So, whenever she had a day off, Y/N would take a book and seat on one of the benches by the playground, watching the afternoon fading away.

Another thing that was helping her keep her sanity was her newfound and unexpected friendship with Hvitserk, one of Ivar’s older brothers. It started a couple of weeks after she had gotten back from her time abroad. Apparently, Ivar had finally broken down and shared with him what had happened between them, and he only wanted to check on her, make sure she was doing alright. They had been texting every day since.

Their exchange was always silly and innocent. Sometimes he’d text her about a funny Tik Tok, a show they both liked, or his opinion on a restaurant she wanted to go and, being the food driven person he was, he had already been to and had a whole essay ready about each course they served. One day, when she was reading in the park, he sent her a video of a bear cub trying to climb a wall. She laughed so hard that a couple that was walking by looked at her like she was a lunatic.

There was only one implied rule: he never, ever, mentioned Ivar to her. It was better like this - what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel.

However, even with all her attempts to mask her true feelings, her friends still saw the truth. Even though she didn't reveal what had actually happened between her and her ex-boyfriend, it was obvious that their fairy tale didn't have a happy ending. So, Y/N's friends made it their mission to bring back the smiling girl who had left the country months before. And one of those attempts included having small gatherings in her apartment. Nothing too big, so as not to frighten her, but just something that would prevent her from being alone for too long, drowning on her sorrow.

On the one hand, Y/N felt deeply grateful to have people in her life who cared so much about her well-being, even if it made her a little upset that she couldn't hide how the breakup had hurt her as well as she'd imagined. However, other times, she wished they would just leave her be. After an especially difficult week, when even sleep didn't come easy, all she wanted was to be alone, with only little Frigga to keep her company.

Once, in one of those times when she wanted more than ever to escape, she had proof that she was worse off than even she had realized. Intending to be alone for a while, Y/N figured it would be a great idea to hide in the hallway on her floor. No one would look for her there. However, when she opened the door to her apartment, she smelled his perfume, that scent so unique it would be etched in her memory forever, the fragrance so strong it was as if he had been right there, moments earlier.

The sound of the elevator doors closing brought her back to reality. And along with it, the realization that she was going mad without him.

You’ll call pretending that nothing happened Asking what time you can come by my place The feeling is gone, but the lust doesn't end This is the fifth last time We lack compromise

When Y/N woke up that morning, she felt like that was going to be her day. The sun was out, the birds were singing, the weather was pleasant for the first time in ages. So, after having breakfast, she picked up a book and left her apartment, heading to her new favourite spot in the park.

But fate has its way of playing tricks on their subjects. And apparently, she was the chosen victim of the moment.

Just as she was walking out into the street, the lobby doors closing behind her, she saw him. Ivar was right there, standing in the sidewalk in front of the building. Cellphone in his ear as he looked down at the ground. In her back pocket, her own phone started to ring.

Ivar noticed her a moment later, his gaze meeting hers. Those intense ocean eyes staring at her for the first time in so long was enough to freeze her in place, her heart beating so fast it felt like it was about to bust out of her chest. Y/N brings the book she was holding to her chest, hugging it tight, attempting to keep her mass of feelings inside.

“Hm… Hi”, he’s the first one to break the silence, staring deep into her eyes. She notices he’s holding so tight to his crutch that his knuckles had turned white, a sign that he was just as nervous as she felt.

When she doesn’t respond, Ivar continues, “I was… hm…”, he clears his throat. “I was just about to call you”.

A car passing by breaks her out of the shock she had fallen into. Still, Y/N can’t gather up the strength to look at him, the scowl she just knew he had, and mostly to stare into those beautiful blue eyes she loved so much. Not without breaking down into tears, and she wasn’t going to let him see her cry, not because of him. Not again. Not so easily.

“I was wondering… I mean…”.

“What do you want Ivar?”, she cuts him off, her tone masking her agony for impatience.

“I just… I just want to talk”.

“Oh, now you want to talk?”.

“Please, Y/N. Just, please…”. his voice cracks, and it's clear in his tone how much he was suffering, the pain he was feeling, which surprises her. Not even in the first time he reappeared on her doorstep to mend their relationship did Ivar seem so distressed.

Watching Ivar so broken in front of her made Y/N realise something: no matter how many times he broke her heart in two, three, so many pieces, when it healed, it’d still beat only for him. It’d still crave to be close to him, to love him. But was it enough to accept him back into her life after what he’d done?

Looking around on the street, Y/N decides she would listen to Ivar and his explanation of the hell he'd put her through. She owned herself that much, as well to their years of relationship, that for most of it was a happy and loving one.

“We should probably do this upstairs” she says, turning her back on him and walking back into the building, Ivar following right behind her.

As she opens the door to her apartment, it is possible to hear Frigga meowing from inside. The kitty hated to be left by herself, even if just for a short time. When Y/N enters the living room, she is immediately attacked by a small ball of fur.

“Frigga!”, she exclaims, picking up the cat, that was currently attacking her legs, and bringing her to her face.

Meanwhile, Ivar admires the scene in front of him. Seeing Y/N so happy causes an inexplicable grip on his heart. He always knew he loved her, that was one of the reasons he did what he did - because of his fear of loving her so fiercely and not being reciprocated. However, seeing Y/N interact with the little kitty, an easy smile on her face, was a clear reminder of what he had given up in the name of doubt.

“Please, sit”, Y/N interrupts his thoughts, pointing to the couch in the living room. When he takes a sit, she follows right behind him, but chooses the armchair, preferring to keep a safe distance between them.

As she takes a seat on the armchair, Y/N takes the opportunity to really watch him for the first time. His hair was a bit longer, now loose on his shoulders instead of his usual braids, and the blue eyes she missed so much were hidden behind prescription glasses. What caught her attention, though, was the grey sweatshirt Ivar wore, one she remembered stealing from him countless times before. Even such a small detail, such an insignificant memory next to everything they'd lived through, made her heart ache.

A few minutes pass, but they remain in an awkward silence. A silence that Y/N refuses to break, however. She knew Ivar well enough to know that if given enough time, he would start talking. Besides, he was the one who came to her in the first place, so let him be the first to speak.

And that is exactly what happens.

“I-I don’t know where to start”, he confesses, looking down at his feet instead of looking at her.

“What about from the beginning?”, she proposes. “Why did you do it Ivar?”. In all honesty, she couldn't tell how she was managing to keep her calm like that, when all she wanted was to demand that he tell her the truth behind the cruelty of his actions.

“I don’t think you’d understand”, he surmises. “Not really, anyway”.

“Why don’t you try me?”, is all she says.

Another moment passes before Ivar speaks again, and when he does, his voice is choked, and his eyes shine with the tears he was trying with all his strength to hold back.

“Because my heart is broken, I’m broken”, he laments, a few tears streaming down his face. He chooses that moment to look at her, noticing how she was fighting with her own emotions.

“Why would you say that?”, Y/N demands, and then adds when he doesn’t answer her immediately, “Please, Ivar. This time at least, talk to me, you own me that much”.

Frigga chooses that moment to make her presence known. The kitty jumps on Ivar's lap, curling up on his lap and making it very clear that this is where she had chosen to take a nap. Ivar laughs at the kitty, scratching behind her little ear, causing her to purr softly.

“Ok…” he says, then.

So, they talked. They talked for hours about Ivar’s insecurities and struggles. He shared moments of his childhood that he hadn’t before – how he always felt like he lived only to try to catch up with his siblings, to show his worth and, most importantly, that his disability would never stop him from having his own achievements.

If Sigurd learned to read by the age of five, he did it when he was only four years old. If Ubbe got accepted into the most prestigious college in the country, so did he and three others. He spent half his life trying to prove that he was just like his brothers, and the other half that he was, in actuality, better than them.

However, Ivar failed to remember that life could be more than that, beyond a one-sided rivalry with his older brothers. While they focused on their personal lives, living, loving, and building their own families, he made it his mission on earth to win this competition that only he was participating in.

Until serendipity put her in his life.

He was never one to be surprised, to stray away from his life plans. But Y/N managed to break all his rules.

Even then, even after all the beautiful moments they had, even after she had caused feelings in him that he never imagined were real, he just couldn't believe that anybody would ever fall in love with him. As a consequence, he preferred to run when things were good. All because he didn't understand that when Y/N looked at him, there was nothing but love in her gaze in a way that no one had ever showed him before. Thus, his ignorance struck again, and he broke her heart.

“I-I know…”, Ivar starts. “I know you may not have it in you to forgive me and I can’t blame you”. He was fidgeting with his fingers, not able to look her in the eye. Even so, she could listen to him sniffle, watching as he ran his fingers under his eyes, cleaning the few tears running down his face. “I’ve played this out in so many ways and in none of them you forgive me. Honestly, I wouldn’t either if I were you”.

“But… I wanted to say I’m sorry and... thank you. I’m sorry for all the pain I inflicted on you and thank you for giving me the happiest years of my life”.

That was the final straw for her.

All this time, throughout their entire conversation, Y/N has been dancing in a fine line – confused between accepting what he was saying as the truth and with so taking him back into her life, like her heart was demanding her to do; or deciding with reason instead of with the heart.

But his words tore apart her indecision, deciding for her. Better yet, pushed her in the direction she knew she wanted to go, and would eventually go, the moment she invited him up to her apartment.

She launches from her spot in the armchair and straight into his awaiting arms. Ivar holds on tight to her, keeping her body as close to his as their awkward position would allow. He was still sitting on the couch, slightly hunched over in her direction. Y/N was kneeled on the floor in front of him, arms reaching up around his back, face hidden in his neck and her body shaking from the sobs cutting through her throat, little Frigga squashed between the two of them.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”, Ivar keeps repeating, holding on to her just as hard as she was hugging him.

It was hard to tell how long they stayed like that. Holding on to each other, gluing back the pieces their time apart had broken.

Part of her believed his words, that he truly loved her. However, she knew they had a long way to go. Trust could not be restored overnight, with some sad stories and some shed tears. But the other part of her knew the immensity of the love she felt for him, and how being away from Ivar's arms would be so much more difficult than the path they had ahead of them.

Ivar had walked through hell during the time he was away from her, and he had no intention on going back. Even more, knowing how much she had suffered because of him broke a part of his heart that he was not sure would ever recover. However, he knew the fragility of what they had at that moment, but this time he would not break her trust on him. This time, he was going to keep that promise. Because he might break a bone, but he could never break a promise to her, not ever again.

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @istorkyou @southernbe

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the-girl-in-the-box · 2 years

Text

Can You Imagine? XVIII

A/N: Hello all! Finally back with another update! I'm so excited to *finally* get to post this, as difficult as it's been to find time in my schedule for writing! Please bare with me as I'm probably not going to have the most consistent posting schedule in the world for at least another three weeks, but I hope to even out after that! Until then, I will be updating as soon as I have chapters ready, and I hope the wait won't be too horrible! Until the next one, I hope you enjoy! Skål!

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive… she may have to learn to trust him again.

Masterlist

We Move As One

The dark of night was the perfect cover for Björn, Freydís, and Ivar to begin their journey to the facility that had once held them all captive. He and Ivar had both begun to notice Freydís changing along this journey, the way her eyes looked tired now, the darkness and shadows around them. Something was happening to her, something bad.

But that wasn’t the only thing. No, they’d also both noticed how her attitude was changing. She’d started snapping more often, letting herself be angry and threatening, even with the two of them. It had gotten to the point that they’d glance over at each other each time something happened, checking to see if they had both noticed it. With each thing, it became more and more obvious that they were both noticing it all.

They waited until they had a chance to speak alone, when she’d gone off to practice something a little more dangerous where it wouldn’t hurt one of them, to speak about the changes she had undergone. Ivar came to sit beside his brother then, and Björn lifted a brow at him. “You are here about your wife I take it?” he asked.

“I am,” Ivar confirmed. “You asked me to come, didn’t you? So I am here.”

Björn gave a small nod, then took a deep breath. He knew how Ivar could be, and didn’t think any sort of criticism of Freydís would go over very well with him. But, he figured that as this wasn’t so much criticism as it was concern, perhaps Ivar would be more open to hearing him out. He certainly hoped so. “I am afraid she is messing with something she does not understand,” he said. “I heard whispers of what her power is… It is not safe, Ivar. Not for us, and not for her. Not unless she fits a very specific condition.”

“And what condition would that be, hmm?” Ivar questioned Björn.

“She would have to be the one meant to wield this power.”

What Björn and Ivar did not know, was that Freydís had never been alone in the training of her power. It wasn’t as obvious as someone standing beside her, an external being helping her to train, but instead a presence she now felt with her at all times. But when she was training, practicing her craft, it was as if the presence was manifested, always just behind her where she couldn’t see.

The presence encouraged her to branch out, to attempt new things with her powers, and unbeknownst to her husband and his brother, it was pushing Freydís beyond a point from which she may never return. It wasn’t easy to get candles out that far, but she had managed it, and had set them up in a circle around her, lit so she could levitate in their center. The presence whispered words to her, instructed her on what she was meant to do, which pages in her book to find to give her the spell, and then it was cast.

It was disorienting to pass through so many different people’s consciousness, seeing different perspectives as she walked through their memories searching for the mind she needed. The path was long, from one to the next to the next, having to pass from a memory into the next person’s mind, where she searched for another memory which she could jump through.

This use of her power was supposed to be forbidden. The horrible effects it had on each person whose mind she borrowed might last for weeks or months, if not longer. Everyone took trauma differently, but no one would shake easily the image of someone crawling into their head, fingers grasping at their mind as they were overtaken by splitting pain, flicking through memories until suddenly she’s gone, nightmares left in her wake.

It was no wonder she wasn’t willing to use Ivar’s or Björn’s mind for this. They were her friends, more than that with Ivar and close enough at least with Björn, and she wasn’t going to subject them to that sort of violence. Besides, she shouldn’t need their minds anyway. They weren’t the only people in the world who knew Doctor Schmidt and Professor Andersen, so why should she have to resort to using her allies’ minds to get to theirs?

Unfortunately, she found that the final connection was proving difficult to make. She wasn’t finding someone with that last path to just one of the two, though she was finding people with memories of Björn and Ivar. The more she tried to find that last bridge, the more frustrated she grew, beginning to push harder and harder, moving through minds at a horrible pace, ripping through memories as fast as she could, until suddenly she gave an infuriated scream and released her last victim from her control, ending the spell with eyes wide, panting.

Björn and Ivar heard her scream, and they stopped their conversation about Freydís immediately to rush to her aid.

Freydís was hitting the ground, falling to her knees when they reached her, her eyes wild and furious. Björn hadn’t seen such a look since he’d faced off against his brother on the battlefield. To see it now in her, it was unnerving to both Björn and Ivar.

The latter of the two bent down to help his wife to her feet, but a shock of concern coursed through him at the sight of her fingertips. Where once they had been just the same color as every inch of the rest of her skin, now they looked like she had dipped them in black tar, almost as though her skin were decaying before she was even dead. “Freydís,” he managed, unable to tear his eyes away from them. “Your hands…”

This brought Björn’s attention to the offending limbs, and his eyes went wide with shock. “What were you doing?” he asked her, and she looked up at him slowly.

“I’m trying to get information for us,” she replied. “I can connect to people’s minds through other people’s memories of them, and use those memories to continue into the mind of the person I want. But I can’t start with someone who has a strong mind, I can only enter their mind through someone’s memories of them.”

“Freydís, where did you learn this spell?” Björn questioned, beginning to look intensely troubled by her explanation. She stretched out a hand, and out of thin air materialized a book, which hovered between them. Like Ivar, the sight of it alone caused dread to creep into Björn’s chest, making him want to get away from the thing as fast as he could. “Why do you have the Book of the Damned?”

A cold wind blew over them as Björn spoke the book’s name, causing Ivar to look up and around into the trees. Everything went still again, unnaturally so, and his eyes turned back to his wife. “Freydís…” he said softly, and her eyes hardened.

“It was a gift from our generous benefactors,” she said, almost hissing out the bitter title. “But I understand this book, unlike anyone else who has ever tried to read it. It’s as if it were meant to be in my care, as though the spells in its pages were meant to be cast by me.”

Horror washed over Björn as he realized, “That’s because they were.” Ivar looked at his brother with confused eyes, wondering why he seemed so shaken, and finding that this response was likewise shaking him up. “I should have realized when you said you wielded chaos magic…” Björn mumbled. “No wonder your fingers are turning black, Freydís, those spells are the darkest in the world!” He gestured toward the book eagerly, making Freydís snatch it back as though she were afraid he would try and take it.

“Maybe they are!” she snapped at him. “But they are my spells and I will use them when and how I see fit! Get off your moral high horse, Björn Ironside. You know you would do the same given the chance! Both of you would! But this power is mine, and as you told us, mine alone!”

Björn shook his head. “I don’t think I would,” he replied. “Ivar might, but I think you know that, and you want to believe I would too. It makes you feel better about what you’re doing now.”

Freydís hissed out, “You don’t know what I would do.”

This caused Ivar and Björn both to look at each other in concern. “Freydís…” Ivar began. “I know you’re desperate to stay free, and to help the others, but…”

“Do you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Then you will understand why I have to do this.”

Ivar, unlike Björn, knew better than to argue with her just then. Freydís had always had a tendency toward stubbornness- just as he had- and so it wasn’t any surprise to him that she was quickly getting stubborn on this matter. It seemed like whatever that book was doing to her was causing a darkness to grow in her, one that reminded him of how he himself had once been, when he had called himself a god and forced the citizens of Kattegat to follow him with undying fealty. It had been a dark time in his life, and he didn’t like seeing it reflected in her now.

“What will you do once it’s done?” he questioned in return. “Because I don’t think this is the sort of power you want to give up. Is it? Would you give it up?” Freydís smiled as if everything were just as simple as the day they’d met in York, so long ago.

“Of course not,” she replied. “What’s to say there won’t be another threat? What if our lives are to be shortened because we have already been dead? Why would I give up the power to bring you back again?”

“Freydís, you sound like Doctor Schmidt,” Björn said. “I thought we were angry at her for interrupting the design of the Norns and the gods? Now you want to do the same?”

She shrugged slightly. “I may as well be a Norn now. Maybe this is my place.”

“And now you sound like me,” Ivar pointed out.

“No, you said you were a god, but you only had their favor. I can do whatever I wish with this world- you’ve seen it, have you not?” she countered. As he had seen it, he swallowed hard, remembering their reunion. “See? You remember.”

“I also remember that no matter how much I believed I was a god, I was not a god. Freydís, you are a witch, not a Norn. Your powers can obscure reality, but they cannot control it.”

“Can’t they?”

Freydís tilted her head, something in her eyes causing a feeling of dread to grow in her husband and his brother. “You both know I can rewrite reality if I wish to. It wouldn’t be the same as what Doctor Schmidt did when she woke us from death. I would just… rewrite things so that you had never died, and so that you were healed of whatever took your life.”

She said it as if that were some small feat, not a big deal in the slightest, while Björn and Ivar both recognized the disastrous effects that she could bring about, using her powers this way. “This is why I say I may as well be a Norn,” she clarified. “If I can rewrite fate, what is the difference between us?”

“The difference is that it is the role of the Norns to write fate- it is not your role to rewrite it,” Björn argued. “As a witch, you can guide people to their fates, and seek out your own, but you cannot rewrite it!”

“But I can!” she shouted, shooting up to her feet to get in Björn’s face. “Perhaps I should rewrite your own! Would you like that, Björn Ironside? Perhaps I should send you back to Kattegat and declare that you do not let Ivar kill you, and you will remain King there until Ragnarok comes for you! Is that what you want?”

“Freydís-”

“Be quiet!”

Freydís whipped around to face Ivar as she snapped at him, cutting him off from his attempted intervention, only to find that in her anger, she had rid his face of a mouth. Björn gasped in horror as Ivar’s eyes went wide, and his hands came up to feel at the suddenly all too smooth skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as panic began to set in, and something began to flicker in Freydís’s eyes, making her obey immediately when Björn cried out, “Freydís, let him go!”

Her hands shot out and there was a flash of red as he regained his mouth, and they shared a distraught look, before she suddenly pushed hard against the ground with her magic, vaulting herself into the sky and immediately disappearing from sight.

Ivar looked as though she may as well have struck him- but then, he might have deserved that, he thought. He had struck her before, and far worse, but even as Björn helped him up, he found that wasn’t the reason he wouldn’t hold this against her. No, that would be because he could tell this wasn’t really her.

“It’s that book, isn’t it?” he asked Björn, looking at him anxiously. “Don’t try to spare me from the truth. She is my wife, and I need to know-”

“It’s the book,” Björn answered. “They warned me about its power before they sent me to hunt you down. Every spell in it is corruptive, and the one who can use it… she is its rightful owner. She would have been able to use it as early as Kattegat, if she’d known she had this power.”

Ivar’s brows lifted as he looked up at Björn. “I thought she gained this power here, from the experiments?” he questioned.

Björn shook his head. “It was being exposed to whatever they gave her that brought it out- she already had it.”

Understandably, this was quite an unnerving revelation for Ivar. If he thought back to everything he had ever done to her- starting with Baldur and concluding with taking her own life- it began to occur to him that she could have simply spoken him out of existence with little more than a word, just the same as she’d done to his mouth only a moment ago.

“We need to find her,” Björn continued. “We know where she’ll be going, but we can’t let her get there first. If she’s been reading that book too much, I don’t think she’s thinking of mercy anymore. We’re past the point of her being reasonable.”

He shook his head. “We both have specific experience with Doctor Schmidt,” he pointed out. “Think about it. If she needed to reach her mind with that spell, she only needed someone with memories of her. We have memories of her. All she would have had to do is go through our minds, and she’d be there.” Björn’s eyes went wide as he realized this. He didn’t know just how horrible it was, but she’d stopped instead of pressing through the people she knew and cared about.

“So you’re saying…”

Ivar nodded. “That was her being reasonable.”

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @sylki-simp, @heavenly1927, @punkrocknpearls, @pomegranates-and-blood

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #freydis #queen freydis #ivar x freydis #freydis x ivar #freyvar #alex høgh andersen #alicia agneson #ivar's heathen army #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #can you imagine?#chapter eighteen

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