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undiscovered-horizon · 7 months

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"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

#vikings #vikings series #vikings tv series #vikings fanfiction #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless imagnie

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woahhhgwendolyn · 8 months

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Ivar With His Children Would Include...

-Ivar would be awesome with his kids. He would be one amazing father to his kids. He is so loving and caring and would also love to do anything for them.

-When he first learns that you are with his child, he becomes really protective over you and also starts thinking about the child that is soon to be born.

-When you are still holding the child, he loves to fantasize about the child and what he or she would be like when they are older.

-He not only talks about the child with you, but he loves to brag to the rest of his family that he is having a child with you and how amazing you are because you are carrying the child.

-When the child is born, he thinks a bit differently now than he had before. He has become more mature and acts more like an adult.

-When the child is older like 8 Ivar would love to play with them and teach them how to fight. That is his favorite things to do with his children, play and fight.

-He has no intention on having weak kids. He does not want his children to be weak minded and to be gullible. So, he often teaches his children good ways to make sure they are not this way.

-When he has free time, he loves to also take his children on rides and teach them about the gods and the history behind their village and the great stories of their amazing grandpa Ragnar Lothbrok.

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midnightstar16 · 2 months

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Whispers of Love: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Reader is new in Kattegat and catches the attention of a certain Ragnarsson.

Warnings: Assault, murder, slight swearing(i think)

You came to Kattegat just a couple days ago but it didn’t take much time at all for you to notice the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. You only saw them from a safe distance as they talked to one another. You noticed one of the boys was crippled but not before you saw his face. You were in awe, to say the least. But your eyes must have lingered on him for quite some time for he met your gaze with an intense stare that sent chills down your spine. You never had more reason to leave and go back to the hut you were staying in.

You became an orphan at the mere age of 12 and had taken care of the farm for many years with your older brother. But the two of you had recently decided that you wanted a far more exciting future than just farming on the land so you sold the land and took the money to buy a hut and look after yourself just until you had settled in. You forgot about Ivar soon enough once you reached you new home and moved on with your new life.

A month passed by and living in Kattegat was so much more different than the farm. It was much louder, faster and there were more people than you could count. But it was not to your dislike, it was the contrary actually. You had started your training to be a physician and you were doing nicely. Everything was working out better than you or your brother could’ve imagined.

Ivar had not stopped thinking about you ever since that little eye contact in the market and it may have been a bit delusional of him to still believe that he would see you again. You were probably not even in Kattegat anymore because he could not find you anywhere. You were the first girl to look at him with such admiration and he drowned in your beauty the second he laid eyes on you.

During dinner he seemed to have zoned out because Sigurd had to throw some food at him to get his attention. Ivar was immediately annoyed and glared at him. Trying to stop himself from flinging his axe at his brother, he asked, “Why are you throwing food around like a child?”

“You wouldn’t listen. Had to do something to bring you back to Midgard,” he replied.

Ivar rolled his eyes, already feeling great anger towards his brother but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted, “We are celebrating Yol tomorrow.”

Ivar drowned in his thoughts once more. He would know if you were in Kattegat by tomorrow night. If you were in the town, then you would be at the feast and he would approach you. He wanted to know all there was to know about you; all the important and unimportant things of your life.

You and Kalf, your brother began cleaning up the plates and horns after dinner. You broke the silence, “It is Yol tomorrow. There will be a great feast.”

“Yes, I have not been in the Great Hall since the Thing, where I got my arm ring. Just thinking about the food that will be there makes me hungry all over again,” Kalf spoke excitedly.

“We have just had dinner, you fool. How are you always this hungry?” You spoke laughingly.

“Your cooking will make any man excited to eat something else,” he commented.

Gasping, you threw the nearest thing you could find at him at which he simply laughed. You spoke sarcastically, “I won’t make food for you if you really hate it that much.”

“Well, I mean it’s not THAT bad if I think about it,” he retaliated.

Smiling smugly, you spoke, “Better.”

The feast was spectacular. You sat on a different table from your brother though because you knew he would embarrass you the first chance he got. The food and the ale was so good you could feast all night. There was music as well and many were dancing to it but you weren’t drunk enough yet to give yourself away to the music. You simply talked and laughed with your newly made friends.

Looking around the hall, you suddenly noticed certain eyes on you and then the memory came back. Those blue piercing eyes and that face, he was perfect in every way. You maintained the eye contact for long, getting lost in his eyes until one of your friends whispered, “That’s Ivar. The crippled one.”

You looked at her. You had heard of Ragnar Lothbrok’s crippled son. The girl continued, “They say he is a menace, quicker to anger than most men, so don’t let his legs fool you and not only that, but I’ve heard that he is stronger and better at fighting than any of his brothers. Apparently he strangled a boar with his bare hands but that is probably not true.”

“Of course it is not true,” you scoffed. After waiting a second, you suggested, “Come, let us dance. The music is lovely.”

The both of you giggled and rushed to give yourself away to the music. You soon felt the beat through your veins and the rhythm matching with your heartbeat. You danced uncontrollably, partly because you wanted to see how the crippled prince would react, if at all. His eyes had barely faltered from you and it was making you uncomfortable but you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want him to know that he made you feel weak by simply looking at you but every now and then you would give him a glance.

You suddenly felt a hand around your waist. You didn’t know who the man was for you had never seen him. His hold on you was not budging when you struggled. His other hand was roaming at places on your body that made you terrified and the hall was crowded enough for no one to truly notice your struggle.

“Let go of me!” you said, struggling.

“Oh what’s a bit of harmless fun? Especially with a woman of your beauty,” the man spoke.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as he continued to ‘dance’ and play around with your body until something that you hadn’t expected in a million years to happen. A knife suddenly struck his head as his eyes remained widened with shock. You quickly stepped away as his body fell to the ground. The tears ran down your face and you looked around trying to figure out who it was until you saw everyone looking at Ivar who was glaring at the man’s limp body. It was different to how he had looked at you in every singly way but you didn’t stay around to find out more. Feeling absolutely overwhelmed, you stormed out of the hall with Kalf following.

“What happened back there?” Kalf spoke worriedly.

“I-…” you hesitated. Before you could speak, your brother interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me. It is fine… Come on, let us go to our hut.”

Ivar had had his eyes on you all evening, his brothers even teasing him about it but he quickly turned them away angrily. But when he saw that asshole trying to touch you without consent, Ivar felt an uncontrollable anger. He wanted to skin the bastard alive but he couldn’t simply watch you struggle like that. Even after killing the man, Ivar felt no guilt. Why should he? He was simply protecting you, making sure you were safe.

No one had asked him about why he had done what he did. Perhaps it was already too obvious. Perhaps he had scared you off. You wouldn’t even want to go near him now. He felt his insecure thoughts weighing him down during the night.

You barely slept through the night, the picture of the knife piercing the man’s skull replaying in your mind and then seeing the look Ivar had on his face. That menacing look, the one that could take down entire armies.

The next day, you went away from the town to feel the quiet of nature that you had already begun to miss. You walked around the forest, finding a riverbank to sit nearby quickly enough. You thought about what had happened last night, how, in some really fucked up way, Ivar saved you. But he also killed a man who will never experience Valhalla now. Then again, that monster didn’t deserve Valhalla. You sat there wondering what would’ve happened if Ivar had not intervened.

“Mind if I join you?” you heard a voice from behind. When you turned your head and saw that it was Ivar, you quickly stood up.

“Were you following me?” you realised in this moment, you were terrified of him.

“Will it help if I said no? Either way, you walk too fast so I had to find you myself,” he spoke. When you didn’t say anything, it didn’t take him long enough to realise how you felt, “You are scared of me.”

Scoffing, you reasoned, “Who wouldn’t be? You killed a man while I was simply inches away.”

“He was hurting you,” Ivar remarked as if that was reason enough.

“But you could’ve killed me,” you argued.

Ivar grinned, “I didn’t though, did I?”

“Well… No but still, it was terrifying,” you said while Ivar made himself comfortable by sitting against the trunk of a fallen tree.

Even though Ivar worked very hard to not show it, he had been very nervous to actually talk to you. Now that you were here, he didn’t want to ever leave.

You stood there silently before sitting down in front of him. What was it about him that you felt so drawn towards?

He looked at you lovingly, “What is your name?”

“Y/N is what they call me… But I already know who you are, Ivar,” you acknowledged.

“Do you?” Ivar joked.

“That anger in those gorgeous eyes of yours, how could you be mistaken?” you replied.

“My eyes are ‘gorgeous’?” he couldn’t control his smile.

You blushed, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t mind the compliment though, please, y/n, carry on about my gorgeous eyes,” he teased. Truth was, he felt a thousand butterflies. He’d never gotten a compliment from anyone.

The two of you continued making jokes at one another, laughing constantly and time flew by ever so quickly. Ivar couldn’t believe the sun was about to set. With you, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He felt at peace.

When his brothers asked where he had been, he simply smiled and shrugged. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel furious. There was something about you, like you were a goddess who appeared to save him. The next day Ivar went up to the same place, hoping you would show up. He was almost about to leave until he saw you show up.

You finished your work as a physician for the day as quickly as you could and relied on your friends to cover up for you. Once out of Kattegat, you practically ran to the same spot on the riverbank as yesterday. You didn’t know how but you just knew that he would be there, nor did you know why you felt so eager to go to him either.

You continued these secret meetings for as long as you could. No one was aware of who or where you actually went but you didn’t care even if they found out. Ivar had become your sanctuary as you had become his.

During one such evening, as the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the riverbank, you found yourselves lost in a conversation filled with laughter. Ivar had a knack for weaving humor into every exchange, and you found yourself charmed by his wit and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Ivar grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth. "See? I told you I was the funniest person you'd ever meet."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth filling his eyes. "I'm glad you find me amusing, y/n."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. "You have a way with words, Ivar."

He chuckled softly. "Only when I'm with you."

The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and before you could think, you found yourself leaning in closer to him.

Ivar's hand gently brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "You're beautiful when you laugh, y/n."

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Ivar reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. His touch was tender, sending a shiver down your spine as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

As your lips clashed with an overdue feeling of affection for one another, Ivar kissed you passionately and possessively almost as if declaring that you were his.

You pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, you found yourself lost in Ivar's eyes once more, a sense of belonging settling deep within your soul.

“I am yours, y/n, now and forever and you are mine,” Ivar’s words echoed in your heart as you buried your eyes in his, expressing a thousand unspoken words.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar x yn #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ivar #vikings tv #vikings series

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blue-sadie · 2 months

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Tracing Tattoos

Imagine:

Being in bed with a sleeping ivar and slowly tracing his tattoos, your finger tips grazing his skin leaving a trail of goosebumps, your touch slowly makes him stir in his sleep.

"Hm that feels good my love but I'd prefer if your hands scratching my back as I fuck you making you squirm and scream my name letting the village know your mine"

#viking #vikings netflix #vikings series #vikings x reader #vikings x reader smut #vikings imagine #vikings #vikings ivar #vikings smut imagine #vikings smut #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar x reader smut #ivar smut imagine #ivar x reader smut imagine

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incorrectvikings · 5 months

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Rollo: Athelstan’s eyes are brown, right?

Ragnar: They’re blue, with hints of gray when the light hits just right.

Rollo: And when was the last time he smiled?

Ragnar: Last night at 2:03AM.

Rollo: Right. And when is my birthday?

Ragnar:

Rollo: When is my birthday, Ragnar?

#source: twitter #rollo lothbrok #ragnar lothbrok #athelstan #athelnar #vikings #vikings series

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levithestripper · 2 months

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“Earl Ingstad? Never heard of him. Why is he not with you?” VIKINGS— 02x07 “Blood Eagle”

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aikaterini-drag · 9 months

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I am revising my Vikings story and making slight improvements so a new Harald post is much needed to boost my efforts.

#vikings #vikings: valhalla #vikings valhalla #harald sigurdsson #vikings harald #vikings ubbe #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe imagine #ubbe x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x heahmund #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings valhalla season 1 #vikings fanfiction #vikings series #leo suter

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bxwitched · 10 months

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Captive - Part 4

Warnings: Explicit 18+ only, please read at your own risk. Noncon / dubcon, slavery, manipulation, sexual content, violence, descriptions of wounds and blood.

Character Pairing: King!Ivar the Boneless x Slave!Reader

Summary: You find yourself a captive of Ivar the Boneless.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I finally found the inspiration to continue this fic after a whole year. Comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You stirred as cold fingertips traced along your leg, a large callused hand smoothing shapes over soft the flesh, waking you from your dream. You kicked out at the explorative touch, making a sound of displeasure as Ivar caught your ankle in his firm grip and snickered in amusement.

"It is time to get up, Valkyrie." You groaned, burrowing your face further into the furs.

"Leave me be, King. Let me sleep." He huffed at you from his perch at the end of the bed and you gasped in surprise as he leaned forward and snatched your leg from beneath the blankets, jostling you as he hitched it over his broad shoulder. His icy eyes locked with yours as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your knee.

You tried to ignore the heat simmering in your belly as his lips brushed against the sensitive flesh, leaving fire in their wake. His intense gaze bore down into you and flashes of the night before came rushing back; the way that Ivar had looked at you as you had taken control of him and used him for your pleasure.

You had behaved no better than a common whore, desperate for the gratification that his body could offer and you felt your cheeks heat at the memory, your stomach twisting into knots.

You leaned back on your elbows and studied Ivar, he was already dressed in his light armour; with his axe fixed to his hip, his knives stowed at his waist, and metal braces in place on his legs. You didn't have time to wonder what his plans for the day were before he brought you out of your thoughts, his breath tickling your soft skin as he spoke.

"I thought that you would be eager to see your little mouse, Valkyrie. But if you would rather remain in bed-" His voice was teasing and you bolted upright, wrenching your leg back from his grip as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, suspicious.

"You will allow it?" He nodded once, his bright eyes fixated on you.

"You have been good for me, haven't you? Torsten is waiting outside to escort you." You tried and failed to hide your excitement as you stood from the bed and rushed to get dressed. Ivar's lips tilted up at the corners and his eyes remained glued to your form as he watched you ready yourself for the day, beguiled by you.

As you walked the streets of Kattegat you had quickly learned that Torsten was not a talkative man; he was tall and well-built with short hair, shorn at the sides and a dark beard. He was more of a mountain than a man, clearly battle hardened and you had no doubts that he was one of Ivar's finest warriors.

You travelled in silence, trying to ignore the stares of the townspeople as you passed through the busy market, some offered you looks of pity, whilst others flashed you looks of distaste. You couldn't decipher the hushed words and low whispers that were spoken, but you imagined that it was gossip of the king's newest toy, his foreign concubine.

You wondered how many there were before you and what words were spoken of them, whether they were also from Eire or from lands further afield.

Torsten came to a stop when you neared a large barn and gestured you in ahead of him. You entered the dimly lit space hesitantly, mindful of the other thralls as they bustled around, readying for their tasks of the day.

You eyes flitted through the crowd of women, searching for the head of golden hair when a weight suddenly barrelled into you, taking your breath and nearly knocking you backwards as a smaller figure clung tightly to your waist.

Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.

"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, hiccuping as she tried to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.

"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and managed to steady her breathing once more.

She looked up at you with glassy eyes, deep emerald irises that she had inherited from her mother's side.

"Come." You took her hand in yours and lead her away from the barn, down to the waterfront where it was quieter, calmer. You both walked in silence along the waters edge, taking in the warmth of the sun on your face and the sound of the waves as they lapped gently at the shore. Torsten followed behind, giving you just enough distance to speak privately, a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior.

Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.

"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, trying to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.

"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and steadied her breathing.

She looked up at you with glassy eyes, a deep, rich emerald that she had inherited from her mother's side.

"Come." You took her hand and lead her away from the barn and down to the waterfront. You both walked along the waters edge, your shoes sinking slightly into the damp sand as Torsten followed behind you at a distance, giving you enough space speak privately. It was a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior but appreciated immensely.

"Where did they take you?" Your heart wrenched at the concern and fear in her shaking voice.

"They took me to the king." Alva's face paled, her eyes widening further. She looked akin to a doe in the forest, startled by a waiting hunter in the trees.

"Ivar the boneless." Her fear was evident now, her eyes moving over your body franticly. "What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"No Alva, I'm fine." Your stomach twists at that and you let out a deep sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly. She was six summers younger than you but she was naive for her age, fragile. She wasn't hardened like you, she was innocent and she couldn't begin to understand the complexities of your situation.

She was a lamb amongst wolves and you knew that you had to do everything you could to protect her, even if it meant being the king's whore.

"King Ivar has taken me as his and so long as I am good to him, useful to him, our safety is guaranteed here. We may be thralls here but we are alive Alva, and we are protected. That is all that matters." She chewed her lip nervously and her worried gaze dropped to the floor.

"I have heard things, whispers from the other girls.." You stopped and crouched down to her level, ignoring the cold water that seeped into the hem of your gown as you searched her face with questioning eyes.

"What things?"

"They talk about the king, they say that he is a great warrior, that he is favoured by the gods and has never lost a battle. But-"

"Go on, Alva." You insisted as she shifted her weight nervously.

"They say that because of his legs, he cannot please a woman. He has hurt slave girls and threatened to kill them if they speak of it. They talk of a woman called Margarette, they say he strangled her."

Your eyes lowered to the sand and you nodded your head solemnly, you would not be surprised by such things given your experience of Ivar's volatile nature. You returned to your full height and forced a small smile, one you hoped would reassure the young girl.

"Come along, let us enjoy the water a little longer."

Torsten allowed you to spend a few hours with Alva, soaking up the warmth of the sun and the feel of the salty ocean breeze before telling you that it was time to return to the Hall.

Alva was unhappy to leave you and return to the thrall house but she finally relented when you reassured her that you'd be okay with a soft smile and promised that you would see her again soon.

You were almost back at the Hall when you heard your new moniker being called in the distance and turned to see Hvitserk making his way towards you.

"Valkyrie!" The man was completely different to Ivar, not only in his physical appearance but in his demeanour; whilst Ivar was impassive and unpredictable, Hvitserk was open and seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

He grinned widely at you as he rested on the fence of the training ground, his hair mussed and cheeks red from sparring.

"I see my brother has finally let you spread your wings." You huffed at his jest and moved to rest against the fence beside him, watching as Ivar's men fought each other with vigour, the sharp clashes of steel and crashes of shields heavy in the air.

"They are fine warriors. Though not as fine as you I'm sure.." Hvitserk raised an eyebrow at your taunt, his grin widening as mischief danced behind his eyes.

"You told me that you were a fighter, Valkyrie. Perhaps I wish to see it for myself." You raised your chin slightly, your eyes narrowing in playful challenge.

"My father always believed that I possessed enough fury to rival that of a berserker, maybe we should test that." The blonde man's eyes flashed in delight and he held a hand out to you, helping you over the wooden fence and into the training arena, ignoring Torsten's protests and silencing the larger man with a raised hand.

"Hand me a sword, Ragnarsson." He passed you a short-sword, lighter than you had used before but well-balanced and finely made. Hvitserk opted for a larger sword, heavier and better matched for his larger frame.

"Don't worry, Valkyrie. I will go easy on you." You scoffed, watching as his grin widened and his eyes changed, the mossy green growing darker with his building battle-lust.

You watched his feet, anticipating his initial attack and dodged each skilful slash of his sword. You moved in time with him, keeping up with the prince despite your heavy dress weighing down your movements.

You grinned as you blocked several of the beserker's attempted hits. Hvitserk's expression was positively wild and the fight between you became more intense the more you challenged him.

He barely managed to block your attack to his torso and you grinned as he growled in irritation. You were so focused, until your name was shouted from the fence line.

Your head turned for no more than a second but it was enough time for Hvitserk to land a hit, successfully slicing a line of crimson across your forearm. You gasped as the flesh stung and you clutched at the wound as the blood began to seep from it, running down your skin and dripping into the dirt beneath your feet.

Hvitserk froze, his face dropping into one of remorse as he realised what he had done, then one of uneasiness when he noticed Ivar stalking towards you both with his men in tow. His face was stony but his sapphire eyes gave away his rage, they were practically glowing as he glared at both of you.

"What do you think you are doing, hm?" His voice was level, an unnerving contradiction to the storm brewing behind his eyes. He turned on Hvitserk then and the older Ragnarsson visibly tensed. "I suppose that this was your idea, brother?"

You were quick to speak up, stepping in front of Hvitserk to shield him from Ivar's wrath. Although he had been the one to challenge you to spar, you had been just as willing. He hadn't meant to injure you and you had enjoyed the rush of it, the freedom.

Despite being your master's kin Hvitserk had been civil to you during your time in Kattegat, amiable even. From what you had witnessed he seemed to be a decent man and you didn't feel that he deserved to be reprimanded for your poor choices.

"It's not his fault, my King. I challenged him to fight, if you are to punish anyone then it must be me."

"Is that so?" Ivar tilted his head at you with a raised brow and you nodded, his face said everything his words did not. This is not over.

He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and nodded once, his jaw tensed.

"Very well, Torsten will take you back to our chambers." He dismissed the larger warrior with a wave of his hand and turned to face Hvitserk, fixing him with a false smile that left no room for argument. "Brother, you will go and fetch the healer. And the next time that you wish to fight? I suggest that you find a different opponent."

@wittysunflower @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius @that-virgo-witch @helleiaiwritting @the-king-of-kattegat-ivar @nukyster-blog @ietss @belladaises @victoria-styles

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editfandom · 1 year

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Vikings

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precambrian-sea-pancake · 2 months

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#idk what I’m doing anymore lol #vikings series #meme #athelstan

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undiscovered-horizon · 7 months

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Vikings preference: your friend hits on you and gets aggressive

@ivartheb0neless

Ragnar Feels genuinely hurt because he thought he could trust your friend. Whenever Ragnar went away, he'd ask your friend to keep an eye on you and generally make sure you're safe and sound. Makes veiled threats and passive-aggressive jokes at first, hoping that he can both force a boundary and not sour any relationships but his humour is gone when he realizes that your friend is not keen on taking no as an answer. If you raise your concern about "safety vs. keeping a friend", Ragnar makes a sarcastic comment about your sentiment - because a guy who forced himself on you is such a great friend to keep, right?

Gives you a knife to keep on you at all times. If you have the guts, and such an occasion arises, to stab the man once he gets physical with you, Ragnar will have your back no matter what. Also, low-key thrilled. But if you don't end up fighting your own battles, he'll gladly do it for you. Not an ounce of regret on his face during or after.

Bjorn Pretty direct. Makes plausible threats and will fulfil them. Terrifyingly calm and collected for the most part. He's angry but also disappointed that someone you considered a friend could repay your kindness and affection in such a way.

If you tell Bjorn that you're unsure what to do because you want to keep your friend or you think that he's overdoing things, he might get short with you but it's not out of malice. He's worried that if you don't see your male friend for the lying snake that he is, you might get even more hurt and that possibility enrages him so much he doesn't entertain that thought longer than necessary.

Bjorn is definitely the type to make his revenge somewhat public. Not only will that make others keep their distance from you but it will also earn him respect among other men - he takes his husbandly duties seriously. Whether your "friend" lives or dies is entirely up to them and how callous they have been with you. Whether he meant to or not, Bjorn causes people to look away from you when you're walking through the town. No one wants to risk getting your friend's treatment.

After that, Bjorn will never trust any man who tries to be your friend or claims to be one.

Ubbe Tries to be the bigger person at first and has a stern word with your friend. Ubbe is probably the only one to seriously take your word/assurance that there's nothing to get worked up about. He will also wait relatively the longest before getting seriously involved - not because he doesn't care, it's quite the contrary. He doesn't want to impose on your independence, so even if he's uncomfortable with the situation but you keep saying "I've got this", he will keep to himself although will voice his concerns (and will refuse to leave you alone at any place or time). When things become serious and the man starts to get physical, Ubbe will make it clear that from now on he's more concerned about your well-being than your freedom: "I'm sorry for disregarding your wishes but I can't sit and watch you get hurt". Believes to be responsible for your safety as your husband.

Ubbe is the type of person who will seek your friend out on his own and resolve the issue right then and there. He goes to the other man's house one night and leaves it only when an agreement is reached - doesn't matter how far he has to go to ensure that. Ubbe's not afraid to get his hands dirty for the right reasons.

Hvitserk Also hurt because he was actually getting along well with the other man. Hvitserk will ask about your perspective and wishes but if your safety is compromised, he won't make them a priority. At first, he's trying to get you out of harm's way, so you're leaving your house only if he's by your side. But once he learns that your supposed friend forced his way into your home and put his hands on you, Hvitserk is determined to take things into his own hands. He won't seek out your friend on his own but rather wait for an opportunity to arise; doesn't start the fight but surely will end it. The next time another unwanted advances are made towards you, Hvitserk has an axe in his hand and this time, he's the one who doesn't take no for an answer.

If you ever befriend another man after that, Hvitserk will tolerate him but never let go of any suspicions. Also, might tell the story of your previous "admirer" to scare your new friend into behaving properly.

Sigurd The most probable to get into a brawl right away. At first, he feels quite self-conscious seeing another man flirting with you but when the man in question starts to become aggressive, Sigurd coins his insecurity into hostility, effectively picking a fight. After what seems like lakes of blood and an entire concert of bones breaking, the brawl ends. Sigurd looks like he's been through Hell and still that's a lot better than your friend, who would be pronounced dead if it wasn't for the sporadic raise of his chest as he tries to take in a ragged breath. Sigurd will also voice his anger as he's caving in the other man's skull ("Was it fun when you grabbed her? Enjoying a little manhandling, eh? I'm happy to provide").

Gains respect in his brothers' eyes but none of them quite wants to admit it.

Ivar He would also feel self-conscious at first. Considers your friend's bold behaviour an assault on his masculinity ("You think I'm not man enough and therefore think you have any right to bother my wife"). Not surprised in the slightest. Hated the guy's guts from the very beginning and made it obvious. Might actually say the dreaded "told you so".

Because he perceives your friend's aggression as somewhat personal, Ivar is driven to go quite far in order to make the punishment fit for the crime. Not only does he do it for your sake but also to make sure that everyone knows just how much of a true Viking is inside him. Some say that "silence is golden", so if your friend decides to use less-than-savoury language towards you, he might end up with his throat filled with liquid gold to ensure no more offence leaves his mouth. Similarly, he's going to suffer the "equivalents" for whatever other thing he's done. He grips your hand so hard there's a bruise? Ivar will wrap his hand with a chain and slowly tighten it until all the bones crack and the wrist is literally torn away from the forearm. But no matter what he does, in the end he still feels like it doesn't quite make up for your friend's wrongdoings.

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woahhhgwendolyn · 6 months

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Dating Hvitserk Would Include...

-Dating him would include him being very jealous at times and not understanding that you are fully committed to just him.

-He would also be very protective of you whenever some other men look at you for too long or even talk to you for a long time.

-He would be very protective in the times that you are near his brothers and also when there are new men in the village that just came in.

-Hvitserk loves to cuddle you and just touch you in general. Every night when you sleep, he has to be cuddling you, He does not really like to hold you down, he just really likes to be with you.

-Whenever you both are out together, he likes to hold your hand and hug you too. He likes to hold you too whenever you both are sitting next to each other.

-When you both are out eating dinner at the great hall, he likes to sit you in his lap and keep you there for most the night. Everyone makes fun of him for this, but he does not mind.

-He loves every single part of you and he makes sure that you know that too. He loves to always tell you how beautiful and wonderful you are.

-He is always telling you how perfect you are for him and how he wants to marry you and have kids some day with you. He tells you all the things he wants to do with you in the future.

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imaginesmai · 9 months

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Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (7)

Barely alive, it’s been a couple of rought weeks BUT I’M BACK. Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist

Plot: Ubbe and you take important decisions, about your future and the future of your kingdoms, not knowing that something bigger than you is happening outside the castle’s walls.

When Ecbert told Ragnar about your decision to stay, the king didn’t look surprised at all. He humored you with your father, agreeing about the old age and bad knees. They both exaggerated their physical conditions between laughs, and concurred that they needed to take the hunting trip easy.

From behind your father, you watched with a soft smile the interaction.

You hadn’t noticed until that year how close your father and Ragnar were. Back at Wessex, you didn’t have many friends, and not a relationship as close as them. As you stared at their interaction, you felt your heart growing bigger, feeling that you had taken the right decision.

The moment was cut short when Ubbe and Sigurd appeared. Apparently, Aslaug had had a bad night and wouldn’t be gracing you with her presence. And, since Hvitserk hadn’t shown up for breakfast, he had declined going with them.

The hunting raid was complete and ready to go, you guessed. And it was time to share with Ubbe the news.

Both kings looked at you when the brothers arrived. Before you could notice the difference between them, Ubbe talked.

“I’ve been looking for you” he lifted the corner of his mouth, not completing the smile. “Good morning, father. King Ecbert”

“Ubbe” your father nodded in recognition.

“Where is your saddle?”

Indeed, while Sigurd was wearing his riding clothes, Ubbe was still in his usual, prince-ish robes. Not only he was wearing a long, cobalt tunic with silver embroidery, but he didn’t carry the usual smell of staying in the barn for hours.

When his brother rolled his eyes and walked away, Ubbe smiled. He had had enough time to prepare his horse, clean his riding boots and choose his favorite saddle. If he had wanted, he could have gone to the hunting raid, just as it was planned for him to go.

He liked to hunt. Like the adrenaline of chasing a prey and the silence of the forest. When they hunted, his father and him went back to his childhood, where they shared a deep bond. But he had decided against it.

“I won’t be accompanying you today, after all” Ubbe explained. “There are… matters I need to take care of. Maybe I can help princess Y/N packing”

“You won’t have to” Ecbert interrupted him.

“Oh”

Looking at your father, Ubbe lowered his head. His idea had been to stay behind with the excuse of helping you to pack. He didn’t know why, but after you were interrupted in his chambers, he had felt the need to spend one last day with you. Hvitserk had left the castle early in the morning to complete his weekly activities in the cabin, which included two brunets’ servants and the daughter of the baker.

So there was little chance of being interrupted.

He tried not to show his disappointment, because if you didn’t have to pack bags, then he didn’t have a reason to stay.

“We’ll be… staying. For another day” you explained, not meeting his eyes. “Because my father might get tired in the hunting raid, and it’s a long way back to Wessex. If it’s not a problem”

When Ragnar didn’t answer, Ubbe realized you were talking to him.

It took him by surprise that you were staying, but it was even more surprising that it was just for a day. Because he had known, deep down, that his intention today was to convince you to stay. That, during the last seven days, he had tried; first unconsciously, then as a choice. He started the summer mildly convinced that he had to marry you, and now he didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

Just that a day was an awful short amount of time.

“You could always check the old storage room” Ragnar proposed finally, breaking the silence. “It’s full of games and objects you used as children, and I’ve been asking you to take a look for a while. Maybe Y/N can help you”

“She can. She’s really organized” Ecbert contributed. “Besides, it is a bad day to stay outside. Just let these old dogs enjoy the hunting raid and find something to do. We will be back soon. Don’t want to get too tired”

“Indeed. Only God knows how many days in bed will earn us the hunting trip” Ragnar started at you with an amused smile. “Might be weeks”

“Might be, my dear friend. Shall we go?”

Both kings turned around and walked towards the carriage, that would take them to the designated part of the forest. Where the rest of the town would be waiting, with their dogs and bows ready.

While they walked away, you thought about how lucky you were. Your father would willingly stay for the whole summer if that’s what you wanted to, if that made you happy. He would also cancel the hunting raid and ride back to Wessex himself.

You stayed in silence as they got into the carriage and told the driver to move, until they drew up dust from the path and Sigurd kicked his horse to lead the way.

You had never had any problem talking with Ubbe. With remarks or mean words, you always kept the conversation going until you were torn apart by the adults or one of you couldn’t physically talk. But while the first drops of rain hit the ground, you kept quiet, not knowing what to say.

The meaning behind your decision was clear – that you wanted to try again, that you were willing to finally accept his hand. That you had consciously turned away the chance of changing your fate, consciously had chosen to marry him, without a proposal or weeding plans.

Staying meant you had admitted your intention of moving forwards, to whatever future you could hope for, and now it was Ubbe’s turn to answer. The decision of staying instead of going to the hunting raid could be an answer, but he didn’t know your decision yet.

So you waited, as rain started to wet your hair and soak your dress.

You waited in silence, until a cape was wrapped around your shoulders and a pair of hands turned you away from the path your father had just disappeared from.

“We should get inside” Ubbe spoke through the rain, that had gotten heavy a matter of seconds. “Fuck. It’s – fuck!”

“Oh my god” you couldn’t help but laugh when suddenly you were hit with what felt like a gallon of water.

You let yourself be lead away from the main door while Ubbe wrapped an arm around your shoulder. With a natural instinct, you shifted closer to him until you fit under his arm.

It wasn’t funny, but you couldn’t stop laughing, and soon, Ubbe was laughing too. It wasn’t the pearly smile you had seen that day at the courtyard, that flashed in your mind without your permission. It was different, and at the same time, wonderful.

You ran through the rain, not tripping against each other’s feet by luck. Servants that were taking cover in the barns stared when you passed by, and a man with bulky clothes tried to stop Ubbe with a scandalized scream.

Once you finally took cover, you were soaked. The rain had drenched Ubbe’s cape, now heavy on your shoulders, and the bottom of your dress was full of mud. Even your socks, under thick books, were wet. Still smiling, you stared at Ubbe as he moved your hair out of your face, letting you see his full smile. It was beautiful, his chipped front tooth a reminder of you.

Although he was too drenched to the bones, his hands felt warm, or maybe it was your cheeks. Or maybe you were running a fever and you were hallucinating, because suddenly, it was a déjà vu from that morning. He was looking at your lips and you were wondering what it would feel to stay forever, not just for a day.

His finger hovered over your mouth, a ghost touch.

“You look like a wet rat”

“And you smell like a wet horse”

He scoffed and for a second, you thought he was going to actually kiss you. That he was going to move forward and you were going to meet him at the middle. In a perfect fantasy, he would ask you to stay and you would choose to, not using excuses or prologues.

You would never know, because thunder roared in the sky and the moment was broken.

What Ragnar defined as an old storage room was everything but that. It could have been a room, a long time ago, with high windows and a clear view of the forest. But someone had decided to start accumulating things inside, and now you could barely take two steps straight.

You hadn’t bothered bathing, neither had Ubbe. As if not spending every minute of the day together was an offense, you changed clothes with your backs to each other, not even using the bathroom. You chose a dark green dress that showed your boots, comfortable to move, and Ubbe had put on a different tunic.

He showed you the storage room, moving the curtains. Everything was covered with white, dusty sheets, and you were in for a long morning.

“I threw Hvitserk down the stairs with one of these” Ubbe said from behind you, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. “He broke through a window and didn’t even get a bruise”

You looked away from the pile of children’s clothes that you were trying to organize. He was holding up a large piece of wood attached to one wheel, the other missing. Indeed, you remembered using a similar one in some occasions, although you didn’t have a specific memory with it.

Between mountains of garbage, you had found many children’s toys and clothes. After spending a lifetime of summers together, you had gathered a good amount of entertainment options. In a useless attempt of bringing you closer, your fathers had brought you everything a child would want or need. Not realizing until it was too late that you would hit each other with it before sharing.

“Didn’t you race me with one of those in the gardens?” you tried to remember, getting closer.

“You were winning so I tried to shorten through my mother’s roses” he chuckled. “She got mad, but you were furious”

“You destroyed every last of them!” you laughed too, remembering that summer.

It was one of the first ones you spent in Mercia, and you had never used a toy like that one. Thinking you wouldn’t know how, Ubbe had raced you and you had won, and in the meantime, he had destroyed half of his mother’s garden. You remembered her scolding and feeling furious at him.

So angry, that you used his favorite wooden sword as a throwing dagger during the next day.

You moved closer to him, looking at the piece of wood. Even if you had argued more than talked, it wasn’t always boring. There were games and competitions. When you were all young, Ubbe didn’t discriminate you from being a girl, and included you in the games where he thought he could win. Somewhere in the way that changed and your worlds drifted apart.

“You care too much about flowers” he said, raising from where he was sitting.

“It’s not I have many things to care about in here. I can’t cook, train or ride, and needlework is definitely not one of my passions. No matter how much your mother tries” you explained. There was only a foot between you two. “Flowers are… nice. They are beautiful”

“If you want to, I could assign some more servants to the garden. So they can help you take care of them”

If you want to stay, I could make you happy, just so you know

Ubbe let the hidden meaning clear. Because if you left after your father rested, then the garden was the least of your concerns. He couldn’t care less about the flowers or the garden, and he knew right then, that if it made you stay, he would send his whole army to take care of those flowers.

In that dark room, crowded with objects from your past, he waited for you to answer. It was impossible that you hadn’t understood what he meant, and by the way you stared at him, he knew. In just seven days, he had made a decision that had been asked from him for sixteen years. Sixteen years under the pressure of getting to know you and take you as his wife.

Only when you were no longer under that much pressure, he finally saw it clear.

“It would be nice” you answered, your voice small. “You could help me sometimes. If you want to”

Through the window, another lighting broke the sky. The storm was now loud and wild, thunders and lighting accompanying the rain. Someone appeared through the trees riding a horse at full speed, towards the castle. It would take them a while to reach the gates, and you didn’t notice them.

Not when Ubbe’s blue eyes were staring right into your soul, and when yours couldn’t decide where to look – to them or to his mouth.

“You’re staying” he tried, not a question but a fact. A need.

“If you want me to”

Before you could notice the smoke that was raising from the middle of the forest, he crossed the invisible line he had drawn sixteen years ago and pressed his lips against yours. They were rough and demanding, not like the shy, first kisses you had shared with boys in your kingdom.

You could have fallen if it wasn’t for the table that was behind you, or for his hand that pressed your hips against his. There was no air between you two, no space for second guesses. Only his lips and hands on your body, and yours on his neck.

One of yours caressed the back of his head, your thumb brushing the soft hair where his braid started. Not knowing what to you with the other one, you held yourself together by holding onto the desk. Afraid he would let you go and you would crash into the ground, knees turned into jelly.

But he didn’t let you.

With his free hand holding your head straight, demanding more of you, he broke free for air. His pupils were blown, almost no trace of blue behind them. No one had ever touched you the way he was, and you understood that no one would in the near future, if you had a saying in it.

Ubbe didn’t move his hand from your face. Instead, giving you time to push him away, he lowered it down your neck. Something inside him screamed to let go, to forget about what was expected from him and lower his hand more, until there was no turning back. The way you were looking at him, the way you weren’t moving, made it harder.

But he resisted and let his hand go to his original place, to your cheek.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked after a long minute, his voice rough and deep. “We don’t – you don’t have to. Not even if you stay”

“Shut up”

Once more, you crashed your lips against his and he let you, smiling against them. You could feel every curve and corner of his body that you had guessed that morning under the covers. The room’s temperature grew in seconds, and when the hand on your waist moved lower, you let him.

Sixteen years of frustration, hate and disagreement were forgotten as you felt your skirt move higher, his leg making its way between yours.

One thing was to sleep in the same room, to let people assume you were together, but another one was to actually do it. Before you could regret your decision or let your brain caught up with your heart, someone knocked at the door urgently.

“It’s the king! The king is dead!”

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