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author-morgan · 10 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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blakeswritingimagines · 9 months

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Who fell first and who fell harder

Ragnar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Athelstan: He fell first and harder.

Floki: You fell first and harder.

Lagertha: You fell first but she fell harder.

Aslaug: She fell first and harder.

Bjorn: You fell first but he fell harder.

Ubbe: He fell first but you fell harder.

Hvitserk: He fell first and harder.

Sigurd: He fell first but you fell harder.

Ivar: You fell first but he fell harder.

Halfdan: You fell first and harder.

Harald: He fell first and harder.

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

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phenomenal1500 · 1 year

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~In The Gods' Favor~

Masterlist

A/N: This is a combined request asked by three anons on Tumblr. I felt like these requests could fit together perfectly and I hope you all like it!

Summary: Reader is stuck in an arranged marriage with Harald and sees his scars by the Pechenegs for the first time.

Timeline: Season 2, after the Pechenegs.

Pairing: Harald Sigurdsson x Fem!Reader Warning: Smut, breeding kink, arranged marriage.

Sitting in the gorgeously decorated great hall in Kattegat, Y/N was watching the Norsemen feasting and celebrating because of her marriage with the new king of Norway. However, everything didn't sit right with her.

How could other people be happy at such a time but her?

She knew who she married. King Harald had made sure to meet and spend time with her before their marriage so she wouldn't feel overwhelmed marrying a stranger, but happiness? That she couldn't express at this hour.

Perhaps it was because she was closed off to new opportunities or perhaps because she had built a wall so she didn't have to let him in, but she simply couldn't be excited even though she had to admit the norseman was besides attractive also very lovely and caring.

"You're doing alright, sæta?" King Harald slowly dropped himself beside her on the small bench that she had been sitting on all evening now.

"I think I'm doing fairly well." She nodded and looked back at the exciting and hopeful crowd again.

"We're giving them hope." He whispered, laying his large hand on her lower back. "We must think about that."

"I've never been much of a leader." She admitted, for the first time not backing away or pushing his hand away either. Sooner or later things had to get more heated between the two so a simple loving touch didn't bother her so much anymore. "These people.. they aren't my people."

"After today they are, love." He slowly rubbed her back and tried to make her look at him. "They're as much my people as they are yours."

"Out of everyone, why me?" She finally pulled her eyes off the crowd and back to her husband.

"You seemed sweet and very quick-witted." He smiled. "And from the moment they introduced you, I knew you would stand by me proudly."

"I'm not standing anywhere yet." She may have already been royal before they married, but since she was the youngest of her sisters, she had never been taught how to be a proper queen. She didn't trust herself to lead a country yet.

"You will soon." He gently lifted her hand to his lips and gave the back of it a soft kiss. "Trust me when I say you were born for this."

"I trust you." She slowly nodded and had a slight blush on her cheeks.

"That's all that matters." He gently lifted her chin with his index finger before he closed the gap between them, catching her lips with his as he pulled her in for a slow passionate kiss.

"King Harald." She panted softly after she pulled away, cheeks even redder.

"Not the right moment?" He stroked her hair, letting her decide for herself if she wanted to continue the kiss. He wasn't going to force her into anything. That wasn't like him. If the kiss wasn't what she wanted, Harald would apologize right away.

"No, it's not that." She cleared her throat nervously, but instantly relaxed in his touch. "However, perhaps we should go somewhere more private?"

"Is that really what you wish for, Y/N?" He whispered, cupping her face with his hands.

"I think so." She was a bit uncertain, but she preferred some alone time with the man anyway. The crowd only made her feel more pressured to show forced love to him, and if the traditions were true, after the wedding celebrations six people would accompany them to their bridal bed and she would rather experience things alone with him before that.

"Come on then, sæta." He got up and held out his hand which she took without any hesitation.

She wanted to be out of there badly and especially if it meant exploring her feelings with him before anyone would witness it.

She couldn't imagine how forced and hurried that would be like.

The king brought her to their now shared bedroom, helping her inside before he closed and locked the door so no one could get in and harm them. "You're certain about this my queen?" He questioned again, just to reassure himself that she wanted this too and he wasn't forcing her into anything. He had been raised to respect and care for his women, no matter if it was an arranged marriage and they had to by tradition.

For him and a lot of other Norsemen, unlike the men from England, it was important both sides wanted this.

"Yes, I'm sure of my decision, Harald." She smiled a little, feeling soothed by the way he made sure she was okay with such a thing at all times.

"Come over here, gorgeous~." He returned the sweet smile and watched the woman obey him, carefully closing the gap between them herself now.

Right when she took the last step towards him, she could feel his warm lips on hers again. Tongue playfully exploring her mouth, he sneaked his arms around her thighs and picked her up that way, holding her close to him.

She had to admit it made her feel feelings she never thought she was capable of feeling and here she was, experiencing them with a man she actually started to desire.

"My king~?" She blushed and cupped his face, staring deeply into his darkened eyes filled with lust.

"You're allowed to only say my name, Ketta. You are my wife, not an unknown person to me." He spoke against her lips softly and she nodded.

"Harald~?" She licked her lips slowly to taste more of him when he carefully laid her down on her back.

"What is it?" He made sure to caress every inch of her body, starting with kissing her shoulders as he unlaced the laces of her dress located between her breasts. It instantly made her feel flustered, but didn't stop him and he didn't stop either.

Lust was slowly taking over~ they needed each other badly.

"I desire you." She felt her heart speed up a bit when he took off her dress more with every kiss. It even doubled its speed when his hands and lips finally found her breasts, fingers trailing up and down her breasts before rolling her hardened nipples between his fingers and kissing the valley between them. It instantly caused a strange sensation in her body and she suddenly felt the wet heat worsen between her legs.

"I desire you too, ketta." He muttered against her soft skin, hands moving down to her sides and down to her hips as he pushed the fabric further down.

There she was, bare and open to him.

He had to admit it made his cock grow solid in his trousers right away when he saw her gorgeous body, but he was holding himself back and keeping himself calm.

He wasn't a quick-fuck type of guy, he wanted to treat her like the queen she was.

Despite how he felt about how beautiful she was, she herself was slightly anxious. Nobody had ever seen her without clothes, let alone this vulnerable too, and especially after he slowly spread her legs.

"All I'm asking of you is to loosen up and let me take care of her, sæta, that way it'll feel the best." He ran his fingers over her wet pussy lips to worship it gently and pulled his hand back again. He knew he had to be careful with her and that's why he needed her to relax for him.

"I'll try my best, Harald." She mumbled, nibbling on her lower lip as he suddenly got on his knees in front of her. "What~ what are you doing?"

"It's okay, my love~." He reassured her as his lips touched her inner thigh, giving it sloppy wet kisses as he trailed his way up to the place that needed to be touched the most.... The place that was aching and begging for nobody but his touch.

"Please." She panted softly, letting the small beg roll of her tongue before she could stop herself. She honestly didn't really know what she was begging for, but it made him chuckle and before she knew it he was giving her clit a loving kiss too. Her chest immediately went up and down faster because of it and the pleasure that shocked through her body increased especially when he wrapped his lips around it and gently started to suck.

That brought her to Valhalla right away.

"Mmhmm~." Y/N arched her back, loving the new delightful feelings as he licked her up, giving her wet pussy long and slow licks before going back to sucking. "Harald~."

"I know, ketta." Harald growled, his hands stroking her inner thighs as he dove right back into her ocean. "I know it feels good." He spoke straight into her core, her whole body shivering because of it.

He needed her ready for him.

He needed this to feel good for her.

Lifting her legs and resting them over his shoulders, he licked her insides a little faster. He wanted her pretty pink pussy more than soaked and ready to take all of him and in no time her legs were already shaking.

He knew she was close, but unfortunately for his beautiful wife he wasn't going to make her cum so soon.

Harald pulled back, his beard covered in her juices, but he didn't care. His eyes landed on his wife again, her pretty eyes filled with lust and her cheeks having this cute red tone, she was so precious to him. "You prefer to have all of me?"

"Yes. I would love to have all of you." She smiled after she managed to get out of her stunned embarrassed state. This was all new to her and seeing him this shameless was unusual so of course it was normal she had to get used to the barefaced activities.

She slowly sat up though and actually managed to help her husband take off his armor before her eyes suddenly landed on the horrifying scars on his chest.

"What happened...?" She raised her hand and carefully outlined them with her fingers.

"It happened before I was crowned king of Norway. A man named Vitomir promised to pay me and my friend Leif a lot of treasure if we could deliver something to the emperor in Constantinople." He proudly explained while he unlaced his trousers. "But there were many Pecheneg camps settled along the shores we sailed."

"Pechenegs...?" Her eyes shot up to his deep hazel ones, staring at him with a slightly dropped jaw.

If there was anything she heard about Pechenegs, it was that they were extremely violent, well, they loved giving their enemies a tough time.

It was a wonder Harald was still alive.

"Yes, Pechenegs." He nodded and crawled on top of her in a hot way, his hands resting on either side of her head to keep his body weight off of her. "The cowards pierced my skin and string me up by my chest to see how much it would take for me to beg for mercy, but I never did."

Y/N listened closely to the king, but actually focused more on the ugly scars.

"Do they still hurt..?" She pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss each scar.

"No, neither do my muscles." He kissed her forehead. "So do not worry about me. We're not here together and bare to worry about my injuries."

"I know." She suddenly blushed again when she felt his hard cock pressing against her thigh. She then wrapped her arms around his neck while her legs spread some more on their own to make room for him between them. "I can feel that we aren't here for that."

"You want it~?" He teased playfully, rubbing his tip between her wet folds which got her body squirming with need.

"Yes, please Harald." She begged, her eyes never leaving his as he grabbed her hand and brought it down to touch his perfectly curved cock.

God, he would be able to hit every spot so well.

"Guide him, love." He let her feel around his already rock hard cock, jerking him a little, and he loved the way she was too embarrassed to look down at what she was doing. It was adorable.

"Guide him...? I don't know how." She whispered, glaring down for a second as he gave her a hint, pressing his tip softly against her tight entrance.

It made her bite her lip, nervous at the sight of him so close to her dripping pussy.

"Right there, guide him in ketta." He whispered in her ear, kissing her neck afterwards while she slowly guided him inside of her tight entrance.

Harald could feel her body protest by the unfamiliar stretch, but he could also tell she wanted this so badly by the way her walls were clenching and throbbing around his big cock.

Slowly, he moved his hips forward into hers, feeling her pussy trying to adjust to just his thick tip as she closed her eyes.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"Wonderful, strange, a slight sting as well perhaps?" She named everything she was experiencing so he could understand what she was feeling and his large hands rubbed her hips to help her body relax again.

"It'll feel like Valhalla soon." He groaned deeply, his cock sinking deeper inside of her while she nuzzled his neck. "And the more we do this, sæta, the better it'll feel for her."

"Really~?" She smiled and gasped when Harald repositioned her hips to a different angle that made his cock go deeper.

"Yes~ and if the gods are in our favor, we might be granted lots of children as well." He wrapped one of his arms around her arched back to keep her that way while he thrusted a bit faster, the curve of his cock brushing against her spot perfectly over and over again.

"I'd love to have your children one day." She moaned softly, tightening her walls around him.

"I know you do." He smirked and reached down between their sweating bodies, fingertips stroking that small bundle of nerves to help send her over the edge. "It's alright, ketta~ let it go and give me what I want so I can give you my seed and have you bear my children."

Her body began to shake by his words and she couldn't suppress her loud moans anymore. This feeling, the feeling that was so right and wrong at the same time was just too enjoyable.

She and her body couldn't take much more of it honestly.

Inhaling deeply, the woman gave into the strange yet delightful feeling and finally the knot of pleasure exploded, the wonderful feelings coursing through her entire body as she clung to her husband.

"Harald~ oh gods." She smiled and panted, feeling his cock twitch against her spot before he came deep inside of her and coated her tight walls with his seed.

"You felt so perfect, my queen." He buried his face on the crook of her neck, leaving short loving kisses there while he slowly thrusted his cum deeper into her.

"So what now, my king?" She spoke softly not to interrupt the peace they both felt and he carefully pulled out.

"We go back to the feast and make sure we do this again at the end of our wedding~ hoping my seed will take soon." He smiled and gently helped her stand up so he could redress her.

#harald hardrada #harald sigurdsson #Harald #Harald sigurdsson x reader #vikings valhalla #vikings imagine #requests #smut #fluff #angst #slight breeding kink #arranged marriage #in the gods’ favor

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aikaterini-drag · 10 months

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Behold, the fierce Harald, draped in fur, a warrior's warmth amidst the cold winds of the North! 🌬️🛡️❄️

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fangirlings-things · 1 year

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requested by anon || TAG LIST IS OPEN

"Harald... what are you doing?" you asked out of breath as you stared completely surprised at the man standing in front of you.

You had gone to speak to him earlier and found him bathing at the river. You had motioned to get back to where the others where waiting but he had told you to wait and after getting out of the water and putting on only his pants, Harald came to you to speak. As you were doing so, he had suddenly grabbed your face and kissed you.

It was a kiss full of passion and desire, you could feel it as he claimed your mouth with his. You had never held any hope that such a man would look at you in any other way besides a travel companion but there he was, kissing you like it was the only thing that mattered.

"I desire you, (Y/N)" he muttered and you could feel his hot breath on your face as he had pulled away just a small bit. "I cannot stop desiring you, it is driving me mad. I love you"

You looked deeply into his eyes, and found them darkened by that very desire Harald said to be holding back. As you acknowledged his words, you could feel a shiver running down your spine. Then, you passed your hands around his neck and pulled him closer.

"Kiss me, Harald"

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #vikings valhalla #vikings valhalla imagine #harald sigurdsson #harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson imagine

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calif0rnia-lovers · 2 months

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send me a character/person and a song. I'll write a short story?

who I'm open to at the moment (I haven't watched much TV lately, but the list is of people and characters I've seen the past few months):

adonis creed.

athur pendragon.

bucky barnes.

lorenzo “cane” tejada jr.

carmy berzatto.

erik killmonger.

frank castle.

conrad fischer.

harald sigurdsson.

javy "coyote" machado.

jax teller.

joaquin torres.

joel miller.

josh cody.

pope heyward.

sam wilson.

sinqua walls.

steve harrington.

tangerine.

trevante rhodes.

zuko.

If you want someone not listed above...still send the name. I'm behind on movies and shows, so I'm sure others could be added. I've removed Mayans MC because I never finished the show beyond season 2 🙃

Stories will most likely be OC stories unless xreader is specified in the request. If you request a reader fic, I'll try my best.

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lady06reaper · 1 month

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Alright yall....

I NOW WRITE FOR VIKINGS!

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

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

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vikingschristiansff · 5 months

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Chapter Thirteen

Since the weddings Hvitserk had become determined to find out why Elsie was so angry with him. She no longer cuddled with him, instead keeping her body as close to the edge of the bed as possible. She ignored him throughout the day, and would pretend to already be asleep when he came home. After days of this Hvitserk had enough. Fairly drunk, he stumbled into their home where again, Elsie was pretending she was asleep. Hvitserk angrily tossed the furs off of her, turned her over so that she was laying on her back and crawled on top of her. He hovered menacingly over her.

“What do you want?” Elsie snarled through clenched teeth.

“Why are you behaving like a child?” Elsie almost gagged from the stench of alcohol on his breath as he spoke. “We were happily married a few days ago, now you despise me. What happened?”

Elsie gave him a look of disgust, refusing to answer his question. “TELL ME,” he scream.

“I saw you with the slave. The blonde one. I am not stupid, as I said before my affection for you was a momentary lapse in judgement. This isn’t a marriage, it a business arrangement. And I think, from now on, we should keep it as such.”

Hvitserk's demeanor softened, and he rolled off of his wife so he was now sitting beside her. “I didn’t know that would hurt you, and I will never do it again. Not with Margarethe, not with anyone.”

“No need. I don’t care what you do. I’m not hurt, I’m not angry. I know what men do, Scottish men have mistresses all the time. It’s just… my father didn’t and growing up I was promised a marriage like my parents. I forgot that promise was broken when my father made his deal with Bjorn.” With that, she tucked herself back under the furs and turned her back to her husband to go to sleep. Hvitserk, however, didn’t get much sleep that night.

* * * *

Olivia sat upon a boulder, drawing a landscape of Kattegat. However, her peacefulness was soon interrupted.

“Hello Princess Olivia,” Cella said. Olivia remembered her, she was the thrall that dressed her for the Viking wedding.

“Hello Cella. Can I help you?”

“Prince Sigurd has ordered me to accompany you throughout the days. He said you were lonely and having a hard time adjusting to life here.”

Olivia just smiled and nodded. She knew what Sigurd was doing, having Cella with her all day everyday would deter her from having a friendship with Harald. She felt the anger boil within her but she kept a calm demeanor, not wanting to take her emotions out on someone as sweet as Cella.

Olivia waited up for Sigurd to come home that night.

“Why are you still awake?” He asked when got into their bed.

“Is having a thrall become my shadow really necessary?”

“You’re the one who wants someone to talk to,” he smirked.

“I don’t understand you!” Olivia stood from the bed and began to shout. “You don’t want me and yet you won’t allow me to even speak to another man!”

Sigurd stood up as well. “I don’t need you being seen constantly with King Harald! Embarrassing me! Making a fool out of me!”

“You make a fool out of me everyday! You are always with Margarethe!” She spill out the thralls name with vitriol. “If you hate me so much, why don’t spend your nights with her as well!”

“I will!” Sigurd grabbed his clothes and stormed out of their house, slamming the door behind him.

* * * *

Per request from Ivar, Aslaug and Bridget began to spend time together. Aslaug hated Bridget, and Bridget hated her back. Aslaug insisted Bridget was a bad wife and was not keeping Ivar happy. And of course, it was Bridget’s fault that she was not with child.

Bridget had to bite her tongue form tell her mother-in-law that Ivar lacked the skill to make a baby and it was most certainly not her fault. They hadn’t tried again since the wedding night, Ivar was too scared of being embarrassed again. Instead each night he had his wife hold him tightly like she did that night. He found calmness and comfort in her arms, though she could not say the same.

* * * * *

Lagertha decided it was important to teach Leith sword fighting. It was not going well, but they were both enjoying their time together.

Once again Lagertha knocked the sword out of Leith’s hand. “You are excellent with the shield, but you lack strength.” She grabbed Leith’s thin arm, that was sore beyond belief, and let it flop back to her side, making both of the women laugh. Ending their lesson, they took a seat to catch their breathes.

“How is your marriage going, Bjorn is a lot like his father in some ways, so I’m sure it is not easy?”

Leith thought for a moment. “I think, for an arranged marriage, it is going well.”

“But?” Lagertha questioned.

“It is just still very awkward,” Leith paused, thinking if she wanted to say what was on her mind. “I fear — Bjorn may not like me. I would like us to be friends, to make this situation easier.”

“Oh darling,” Lagertha laughed. “Trust me, Bjorn likes you. Perhaps even more.”

Lagertha’s words lingered in her mind the rest of the day. Leith knew she and Bjorn needed to have an honest conversation when he returned home that night.

* * * * *

“I am sorry for accusing you the other night. I should have trusted you when you said you were with your sister.”

Greer turned in bed to her other side, becoming face to face with her husband. “Why didn’t you?”

“I do not have the most experience with women emotionally. I was worried about you, and I —,” Don’t let that Christian make you stupid brother. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Greer smiled, pulling her Halfdan in for a kiss.

* * * * *

Ubbe had left for the day when Isla went into labor. Thralls flooded their house, preparing everything they needed and shouting instructions at Isla. The pain, the chaos, the noise was all too much for her. She mustered her strength and pushed the women out of the room, locking the door behind them.

“Princess Isla, open the door!” The eldest thrall, Agnes shouted and banged on the door. “We need to help you! The baby is coming early it is dangerous!”

Isla let out another agonizing scream, “I will do it myself! I do not want anyone to help me! I do not need help! AHHHHH!”

Agnes continued to banging, “Princess, if you do not open the door I will get your husband to break it down!”

“I am not letting anyone in here!”

Isla didn’t hear Agnes tell another thrall to go find Ubbe and tell him what was happening.

“AHHHHHHH!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Gifs not mine

It's been like 3 years so I don't now if anyone will read this...my laptop broke and I finally got a new one!

@browneyed-babyy @ivarthebloodyking @heavenly1927 @darkwhisperswolf @-thatgirloverthere- @mdlady @anteatingbitchlizard

#vikings fanfic #vikings #bjorn ironside #halfdan #halfdan the black #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk #sigurd #king harald #harald finehair #vikings imagine

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woahhhgwendolyn · 11 months

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Being Haralds Woman Would Include...

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

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

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bjornswoman · 1 year

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Shieldmaiden's Secret

Requested by none.

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

Pairing: Harald Finehair x Fem!Reader.

Genre: Angst, drama, fluff, romance.

Summary: King Harald and you have a secret relationship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"King Harald." She responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you had hurt each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My mother did nothing!"

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

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

You were at her confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to hear it."

A wide smile formed on your face.

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

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

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introverted-imagineer · 6 months

Text

The Light Amongst Obscurity (Part 20)

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

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

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

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

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

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

--The Introverted Imagineer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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author-morgan · 10 months

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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