#hvisterk

[vikingsbifrost]

#marco ilsø #marco ilsoe #hvisterk #vikings

[dontlookintoit00]

I've been sick for the last two weeks (doctors finally decided that I need antibiotics) and I've had a ton of ideas for fanfics that I've not finished. I think I might be able to make something of this one though.. the ideas are definitely idea-ing. Lmk what you think

Hvitserk x Reader... with his brothers stepping in to share of course.

♡♡♡

As far as middle children go, Hvitserk was pretty damn good. Easy going, mostly independent, agreeable, and generally pretty passive. He had learned not to need as much attention from his family early on and Hvitserk was able to entertain himself for the most part. He didn't often get into arguments with his brothers and tried not to pick sides in fights. Ubbe was always the peacemaker, but he never had to worry about Hvitserk needing mediation.

Generally, Hvitserk can get along with just about anyone. Growing up sandwiched between siblings, he easily developed strong sharing behaviors. Not that there was much of a choice, but unlike other children Hvitserk never became resentful of having to share everything. In fact, overtime it developed into something of a love language.

As a young boy, he had no problem sharing furs and bedspace with his brothers. Even if Ivar was a bit of a blanket hog. Mealtimes had him snatching things off others plates, but he would also add the best pieces of meat to one of his brothers bowls. Especially if they were having a bad day. Hvitserk easily traded toys, shields, knives, trinkets, cups, clothes. Anything a brother needed, he was there to provide.

Some part of him hoped that his sharing might rub off on his brothers, particularly Sigard and Ivar. But at the end of the day they were who they were and he was okay with that. Even if it was annoying sometimes.

His willingness to share also morphed into a resistance to jealousy. He wasn't completely immune mind you, but he recognized that it didn't help anything most of the time and he should be happy with what he has. One might argue it was only natural for his giving nature to spill over into the bedroom. Or for his lack of jealousy to lead to many fun and interesting experiences. The sons of Ragnar are stronger together after all, and should work as a team whenever possible.

#hvitserk vikings #hvisterk x reader #vikings #ivar the boneless #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ubbe x reader #sigard x reader

[at1nys-blog]

His own Valkyrja

Pairing: fem!Doctor!reader x Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Summary: Valkyrje. They come from the sky to take to Valhalla the warrior that feel in battle but Hvitserk Ragnarsson has his own, very different version of a Valkyrja

A/N: This came to mind while watching Doctor who specials on DIsney+ and I wanted to write a ff for the series since I am back at watching it but I dind't want reader to be the companion so I inverted the roles and made a crossover with my favourite historical Tv Show. Also the TARDIS is referred as she because I felt like doing so.

A/N pt.2: There are a couple of words in Old Norse like já that means yes and Valkyrja/Valkyrje, Old Norse for Valkyria/Valkyrie

The song is in danish/old norse so here a transation of the song

It was a simple day in Kattegat, nothing special was going on, not during winter. During the snowy season there were just talks, talks about what was the best curse of actions to take in the spring. Were they going to plunder back a new Saxon’s city or were they going to discover and plunder a complete new city? This was something only the spring and summer could tell.

The winter wind was blowing, hard and consistent, like an old friend that wants to catch up. Everyone wearing thick coats to protect themselves from the cold weather and in the crowded market of the city, one of the sons of Ragnar was walking around.

The prince, the man or whatever you want to call him, didn’t had a place to be, nor he was really interested in what people sold in their lonely stools. He just needed time for himself, away from his brothers, his mother and the lords who tried their everything to become friends with him.

Walking around the city, head up to the clouds, Hvitserk Ragnarsson didn’t notice when he walked outside the city’s walls. It was when he was at the forest’s door that he was brought back to reality.

Looking behind him, he couldn’t see the city, nor hear the chattering of the market anymore. It was just him, a snowy and grey landscape. His mind wondered if he had to go back, but then he decided to stay out a little bit longer. He knew that if anyone needed him, they were going to send someone to find him.

The landscape was snowy and grey and silent. Too much silence was keeping company to the warrior, he started singing. Sure, between his brothers he knew Sigurd was the most artistic one. He was the one with a nice voice and gentle touch and the one with the mind filled with honey like words, but Hvitserk, he was pretty sure he came in good second.

The song was one that his mother's maiden used to sing to him and the rest of the Ragnarssons, it was about Ymir and was rather short but his favourite nontheless.

The forest too was silent. The trees' leaves weren't rustling; birds did not chirp on top of his singing voice and no animals dared to make a noise. It was like the wild that populated that place was admiring his voice.

Hvitserk performance got interrupted by a leaves rustling, as if someone moved them aside to not trip or to get hurt. The prince tried to find the source of the noise, ready to fight it was from a foe-man or an ally. Some seconds later he saw her, a female figure walking directed straight to north.

Hvitserk was able to get a glance of her, taking him just a couple of details: she couldn't be taller than him, maybe some centimeters shorter, from his standing point he couldn't say for sure; her hair were messy and up in a simple braid. He decided to follow her, from a distance to not scare her away and to be in control in case she was enemy to him and his kingdom.

Hvitserk Ragnarsson notice her choice of style was weird, nothing he had saw before. The coat was too long, coming down on her ankles; her feet covered in a colorful pair of...

"What are those called?" he asked, curios and getting the girl's attention. She turned back in an instant, and she had to close her eyes a little if she didn't want to faint there in front of him. The viking approached her carefully, slow in his step and stepping back every now and then.

"What... what are you talking about?" she spoke his language, if that was the case maybe she wasn't an enemy. He pointed at her feet, asking once more what those things were. Looking down, the unfamiliar presence kept silence for some seconds. "Those are called sneakers but you won't need to learn the name, don't worry." was her answer.

"Sneakers." he repetead on and on, as to grab the essence of the word, as if he was trying to taste the word she just spoke.

"I was trying to search for some more historically appropriate footwear but my space ship had a problem and it dropped in the middle of the forest. You know where I can find a river or a lake? I really need some water right about now." Even though Hvitserk could understand what she was saying he couldn't understand what she was talking about, she had dropped a word he had no idea what it meant, it wasn't in his native language. The stranger could tell he was confused. "right, you don't know what space ship means. Again nothing to worry about or for you to keep in mind."

"You say I don't have to worry about a lot of things and still haven't told me your name. I am prince Hviterser son of king Ragnar and Queen Aslaugh." he introduced himself. The figure smiled.

"You are right, how rude of me to not introduce myself. I am The Doctor, but not the doctor you are thinking. I can't cure people." the more this so called Doctor spoke, the more Hvitserk's mind was in a state of confusion, what was she talking about?

"Then what do you cure?" a smirk appeared on her face and the prince was warry of that, was it a good or bad sign? She streatched out her hand tilting her head on the side, it was a clear invitation to take her hand and follow wherever she was goint to. It took him a quick minute to decide to trust her, if she was there to kill him she should have tried already. Not that he thought she could do it, but he felt like she wasn't as weak as she seemed.

"you have nice skin." he commented with a small smile pictured on his features. It hadn't been a long time since he had touched a woman but her skin felt different, it made him feel different.

"I think I've heard someone singing, was it you?" the viking man answered with a quick já that he was sure she understood. "You have a nice voice. Can you sing me a song? If you don't mind, of course." Hvitserk started to sing, a different and longer song than the one he had sung previously to meet her, with a calmer tune. This one talked about a love story between a Valkyrja and a brave warrior.

Hvitersk kept his eyes on the Doctor, thinking that she resembled a Valkyrie. Just like the divine creature, she had come from the sky, sure in a ship made for the space, but still from the sky. He felt like she had found him, maybe he was dreaming and it was all in his head. He thought, for a moment, that she came into his dreams to foresee his imminent death.

He didn't notice her halting in her steps, bumping into her. Hvitserk apologized and she realized something was wrong with the TARDIS' translation circuit because she couldn't understand what he had told her, pretty much he had apologized but still, the word didn't register in her mind.

The language, the one she knew as Old Norse, sounded like an old song. She loved it, and it made it at the top of her list of favourite language--something her ninth version started--alongside Ancient North Martian and Sittuun.

She looked left and right, as to remember which way to go, where did the TARDIS landed? East or West? Hvitserk noticed she never let go of his hand, not even when she had trouble keeping her balance. Her hand still in his.

They walked some more and the prince kept on singing, he performed three songs since she had asked the first time, and he was about to sing a fourth one when she let go of his hand. Hvitserk felt the cold wind now, his hand felt the cold weather and if she didn't rushed towards a blue box he would have kept his hand in hers. He liked it.

He kept his eyes on her, walking inside and he waited a little bit. For what he didn't know but he felt it wasn't right to get inside without an invite. She came out some minutes later, asking him why he was staying outside.

"I didn't think I could..."

"Nonsense, come on. I want to show you something." and back inside she went. He followed her, slowly. He had the idea it was an ambush, he had to be carefull. "I'm down here" she said when he opened the door. His eyes couldn't believe what he had in front of him. He walked outside, went around the blue box and then back inside. "I know she is..."

"Smaller outside." he comented. His choice of words triggered her, he saw it. She stiffened, just for a second and he was about to ask if she was doing fine but she didn't gave him the time to ask. "You remind me of a friend I've lost." he was about to give her his condolecence but once again she didn't let him talk, it was like she could read his mind. "Is okay, I'm used to that but here. Come."

Hvitserk approached her, and once again The Doctor took his hand and walked him in front of a square object, with colorful moving drawings.

"What is this?" he asked looking at her.

"This, my dear Hvitserk Ragnarsson is what is hidden behind the sky. Do you want to aknowledge what there is outside of this world?" he noticed her eyes were blinking, like all the starts decided to move into her eyes. She looked etheral, out of this world, just like her blue box.

He agreed, why not? He had nothing to do, nothing to loose so he decided to follow her. He would have followed her no matter what and he was fine with it. He had found his Valkyrja.

He walked around the weird looking piece of metal, studying carefully everything. There were letters he couldn't name but at the same time shapes and colors he had seen both in Kattegat and in his travels over the icy seas; there were objects, like mirrors but they never reflected his face but people he had never met. He was fascinated and confused at the same time.

An earthquake shook up the little blue box and he lost balance for a second, finding support on one of the weird object that were surronding the space inside the box. Hvitserk heard her giggle, for a second and then she was back working on whatever there was in the deepths of that box.

"Doctor, so what exactly did you wanted to show me?" he asked still looking around. Everytime he turned he noticed something new and he was curious to find out what it was.

"I wanted to show you..." her head appearing from somewhere below him. "Something amazing, but I need to fix my ship" she commented.

"This doesn't look like a ship at all." he retored and once again he tried to fullfill his curiosity about what she had called a ship.

"Not in the sense of what you are familiar, no is not, but is a different type of ship." she answered back. "is a ship that sails through time and space" she tried to use words he could understand and even if he did know what sail meant, I mean he did that every spring and summer, he couldn't wrap his head around how a thing could sail through time and space. "this ship can go whenever on this Earth and in every time you want: back in the past, or foward in the future."

The future, he wanted to see what the future had in store for him and his brothers. Were they going to realise all their dreams? Were they going to rise the name of their father to fame? Was he going to have a happy life with a good wife and amazing kids?

"Can we go the future? Not that far into that, just a couple of years." he asked, this time is full attention on his Valkyrja. She smiled. A nice and warm smile.

"Sadly the TARDIS doesn't work like that. Is like she gives me a mission everytime I set her gears on. She sents me when I am needed." another word he couldn't understand but he remember what she had told him before do not worry, and he did not.

"So you are needed here?"

"Not really. My ship needs some time to fix herself. I think she decided the safest place to land was in..."

"Kattegat, 818 AD." he stated. She repeated his words. "Why here?" he asked. Kattegat wasn't the safest option, he knew that. Not when the city feared invasions from basically everyone.

"I might know a lot but this is something I can't tell. Maybe this old lady..." prince Hvitserk followed her every move while she was speaking. "...planned our meeting." she joked, laughing at it. But Hvitersker was pretty sure Urd, Verdandi and Skuld had worked their web to let the two of them. The warrior made a note to himself to leave some offerring to the Norns to thank them for this opportunity. "Now, would you mind show me around?"

He didn’t mind, the more Hvitserk Ragnarsson was alongside her, the happier he was.

Roaming around the market’s stalls it was his time to feed her curiosity. Every question she asked he had the answer, well most of the times.

Everything was going on pretty good until his older brother, Ubbe, whistled to get his attention, he really wanted to run back in the forest to avoid uncomfortable questions from him and the younger of the Ragnarssons.

“Ubbe.” He simply said asking with his eyes to not say anything inappropriate. “Ivar.” He added turning to the the younger of the four brothers.

“Who is she?” Asked the older viking. He took her hand in his and gave it a quick peck—he had learned this during a trip in Wessex—making the Doctor giggle.

“Such a gentleman Ubbe Ragnarsson.”

“Thank you my lady.” Was his throw back(?)

After a quick introduction, whit Hvitserk lying about her name being Brynild like one of the Valkyrje, Ivar invited her to have dinner with them so the two of them and their mother could know more about Hvitserk’s new friend.

“I see if I can attend dinner with your family but I won’t promise anything. But thank you for the invite Prince Ivar.” The title feeded his ego more than enough, the younger prince was happy and limped back from where he came with a soft thank you; Ubbe rolled his eyes and after another act of cavalry he followed in tow his brother.

“I’m sorry for them.” Apologized the second born.

“Is okay. I think the TARDIS is ready. Do you want to live an adventure outside the ordinary?” The viking wanted to tell her that just meeting her was out of the ordinary, sure in a positive way, but still out of this world situation.

“Lead the way, my lady.” And with that they went back into the forest, hand in hand. Hvitserk asking more questions and the Gallifreyan never saying a word.

Hvitserk woke up with a strong head pain, memory of what he thought a dream flooding his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve a little the pain he was feeling, not noticing his brothers, Ubbe and Björn were looking for him.

"Here you are. Queen Aslaugh wants you home." started Björn and without giving him the time to get up he left for Kattegat on his own. Ubbe, on the other side, took a seat next to his brother and with a smirk on his face asked him if he had fun all that time he was missing.

Hvitserk had to lie, nodding his head yes. He didn't know how to explain that he didn't know where she went, and what happened between the two of them, he thought saying they had some private time together was easier.

"How was she? Do you think I can have her one day?"

"I don't think. She told me she found Kattegat by accident" that was not a lie, well not completely. "and besides she has to take care of her family so I don't think she has much free time."

"What a shame. Well, at least you managed to get her. But do tell, was she good?" That was the only thing Ubbe cared to know, then again is about a viking man we are talking about.

Hvisterk rolled his eyes and smacked his brother to his chest, a way to ask him to shut up and that he wasn't going to give him details about it.

Weeks passed and Hvitserk had made it a routine to check the market from the main door of the Great Hall. Watching carefully to see if she was coming back anytime soon.

Then months passed and he realized she was not coming back to Kattegat, he needed to move on. But then it came one day, one beautiful spring day where he saw her, or so he thought, because that woman in the market looking for a pin to use for her hair looked almost ideantical to his Valkyrja. What was more astonoshing was the fact she had fall in love with the prince. Hvitserk decided to take it as a sign from the Gods and after a couple of weeks they got married.

Spending nights together, it was not a surprise to hear his wife giving him the news she was with child and Hvitserk was the happiest to hear it. He had told his brothers first. Björn patted his back, proud of him; Ubbe smirked and laughed at his own words when he said that the little brother had been working hard and Ivar just smiled, happy for his older brother. Then when his mother found out, she decided to throw a party, all Kattegat was welcomed to celebrate the news.

Nine months later, or so, Hvitserk's daughter was born. A beautiful and healty baby girl. Hvitserk looked at her with stars in his eyes, she was going to be his first priority from now on.

"How do you want to call her?" asked one of the women that helped his wife deliver the little girl.

"Brynhildr" he said without esitation. The couple didn't talked about the name but that sounded a good fit for the girl. "I like Brynhildr." he added. He started cooing at his daughter, making her giggle and wrapping her little hand on his big pinky.

"She loves you already." said his wife, a weak giggle leaving her lips. "She is going to be a daddy's girl. Boys will be terrified to ask for her hand" she joked.

"She is going to grow into a fine woman." he commented and gave it back to the one who gave her to him, so that the new addiction to the family could spend time with her mother.

Hvitserk left the little house, taking in the cold weather of the winter season, looking up to the sky he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.

"I might not see you again, my Valkyrja, but the memory will be always be with until my very end." Was it then, that his brothers came to take him out to drink. He just had a daughter, it was a good enought reason to celebrate.

#Spotify #vikings imagines #vikings and doctor who crossover #doctor who au #time lady!reader #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk lothbrok x reader #hvisterk x you #hvitserk ragnarsson x you #hvitserk lothbrok x you #hvitserk x yn #hvitserk ragnarsson x yn #hvitserk lothbrok x yn #hvisterk x y/n #hvitserk ragnarsson x y/n #hvitserk lothbrok x y/n #hvitserk x time lady!reader #hvitserk ragnarsson x time lady!reader #hvitserk lothbrok x time lady!reader

[fig-newtons-official]

Somewhere In America Final

1 2 3

Summoning: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @youbloodymadgenius @hashimily

It’s finally done!!! I genuinely loved writing this series and I am going to have to blend these two universes again in the future.

———————————————————————

Shadow nodded as imperceptibly as he could at Freya’s quiet command to wait until she signaled him to run. He hastily returned to the brothers, his heart pounding as he prepared himself to have to run or fight for his life.

Hvisterk’s face was a mask as his eyes followed Shadow. Meanwhile, Ivar was scowling at the grass in front of him, occasionally glancing up at Wednesday’s misty, unearthly form. His jaw was clenched, as if he were using all of his strength to keep from speaking out of turn. He was most likely growing antsy.

Wednesday eyeballed everyone, his face revealing nothing as he stated, “We may as well get this over with. I can tell that the decay is taking its toll on the sons of Ragnar, and what a sorrowful sight it is.”

As Hvitserk helped his brother up to his feet, Shadow couldn’t help but notice that red rings had formed around his eyes and that his irises were growing cloudy, like Ivar’s. Soon he’d be coughing up maggots like his brother. Like Laura.

In turn, Ivar looked grotesque as his blue eyes gleamed from bloated, grey skin. He reeked of decay. When his lip curled in exertion, Shadow shuddered a bit when he saw that the dead man’s gums had turned black. Ivar didn’t have much longer before the rot consumed what was left of his body.

Shadow thought that he should have felt relieved that his captor was growing weak, but he just felt sick. Something was wrong here. Something was missing. They were being used. They were being tricked, they had to be. Where were the other dead men? There had to be more. Why was it that only Hvitserk and Ivar that had come for him? How could Valhalla just disappear? It didn’t add up. Nothing did.

Something was missing…

Once Ivar was standing, Hvitserk turned to Shadow, his eyes widened slightly. He was unsure, as well. At least he’d offer Shadow a merciful death if Freya couldn’t get him away from Ivar in time.

Ivar suddenly spoke with a chilling, forced calm, “Where are the rest of my brothers?” He slowly craned his neck to glower at Wednesday.

So Hvitserk’s desperate words from moments ago had gotten to him after all. But would it be enough?

Wednesday’s brows crinkled in confusion, “M’boy, they’re wandering this world in the same state as you are. You got to the prize first. Now you get to bring everyone home.”

Ivar’s scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, making him look even less human, “Ubbe was an even better hunter than both Hvisterk and I combined. My strength was always in strategy; it’s hard to become a good hunter when you can’t walk unassisted. So I ask you now, Allfather: how did we possibly beat him to the traitorous son of Odin?”

Wednesday mouth formed a tight line as he contemplated Ivar’s accusatory words. Eventually, he let out a sorrowful sigh, “I didn’t want to tell you this, for I feared that it would hinder your progress. But since you insist, I must regrettably inform you that Ubbe has already succumbed to the decay. Sigurd followed soon after. Bjorn is close as well.”

Ivar snapped, “You’re lying.”

Wednesday bowed his head in a pantomime of grief, “I wish I was. He was a good man, and a good warrior. He would’ve served us well in Ragnarok.”

Abruptly, Ivar lurched forward as more night crawlers wriggled in his lungs. The sound he made was gutteral and sickening, causing Shadow’s stomach to turn violently. Freya clapped a hand over her mouth, her face turning into an odd green hue. Hvitserk darted forward and held his brother by the shoulders just in time to keep the dead Viking from pitching onto the ground.

Ivar turned his head and wretched right in Wednesday’s direction. The bundle of maggots that flew onto the ground seemed just as distressed as Shadow and Freya were as they squirmed frantically on the ground. Wednesday watched the disgusting creatures wriggle about with no expression.

Unexpectedly, Ivar began to laugh. The laughter was cruel, his smile edged with malice as he met Wednesday’s eyes. He looked like the devil in the flesh. Hvitserk hurriedly said something to him in Norse. It sounded like he was warning his brother, but either Ivar didn’t appear to hear it or he didn’t care.

His furious, cloudy blue eyes locked with Shadow’s. The dead man’s grin widened into an animalistic snarl as his rage grew.

Ivar growled, “We’ve been played for fools.”

Shadow swallowed and stared grimly at Wednesday, “This was all for him. The only ones missing from Valhalla are you two.”

Ivar threw his head back and laughed again. Hvitserk’s face slowly morphed into a bewildered scowl. Freya turned and screeched so loudly that Shadow was certain that her fury would echo for miles, “GRIMNIR!”

Wednesday’s eyes closed, his head hanging in defeat. For a moment, the shadows flickered, as if Wednesday we’re going to fade into the wind like he was nothing but smoke.

Hvitserk held Ivar back as the other dead man suddenly tried to lunge in Wednesday’s direction. Ivar quaked with rage as he shouted, “I prayed to you! My whole life! I worshipped you! I did everything in my life for you! To prove that I was worthy of you! And you did this to me?! To us?!”

Hvitserk struggled to keep Ivar in place as he choked out, “Ivar, please! You can’t-”

“What was going to happen after we did this?” Ivar roared as he fought to get past his brother, “Were you just going to leave us here as you go free and whole again? Just let the worms and the flies eat us from the inside out?!”

Wednesday offered Ivar a nasty smile, “Now, now, Boneless. You know full well that you would have done the same had you been in my position. As you just declared to everyone within earshot, you did worship me, after all. You learned your ways from the stories about me that your mother recited to you before she put you to sleep. You’re cunning and ruthless because of me. You’re famous because of me.”

Ivar cackled bitterly, his fight stopping for a moment as he retorted, “And now we’ll die together, Allfather.”

He spat the term ‘Allfather’ like a curse, followed by another bitter cackle. He patted Hvitserk on the shoulder affectionately and let himself fall to ground, gazing up at the dusk with that sardonic, hateful mockery of a smile still crossing his lips.

Hvitserk’s eyes went desperately to Freya, “We can still go back, right? Can we get back to Valhalla before…” He put a hand to his heart. Shadow tried not to imagine the sensation of wriggling worms in his heart. He failed and shuddered, also hoping that Freya had an answer. He tried not to let his mind wander about how Laura would have experienced the same horrors within her own dead body.

She let out a shaky breath as she breathed, “I’ll try. I’ll try my damndest to make this right.”

Shadow blurted out, “Backstage. Can we get to Valhalla by going backstage?”

She shrugged helplessly, “I’m not sure. I haven’t tried in millennia. I have been tied up with trying to move on. Getting my research out there.” She looked Shadow dead in the eye as she continued grimly, “It’s as you said, Shadow, America is no place for gods.”

Shadow shook his head quickly, “We have to try. I went somewhere once before, it might’ve been Valhalla, but I’m not certain. I don’t know Asgard. Hell, it’s a miracle that I even know what Asgard is. I can tell Ivar doesn’t have much time left. We have to try something.”

Shadow glanced at Wednesday. The old man was uncharacteristically silent, giving Shadow the forlorn look of defeat. This had been his last hope of returning. Despite everything that had happened, Shadow still didn’t know how he felt about losing Wednesday again. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to get him and the dead men where they belonged, which was far away from him.

Shadow’s eyes flitted back to Freya’s as he huffed out, “We have to try.”

Freya nodded towards the World Tree and began to stroll towards it, her lips pressed into a tight, stressed line. Shadow did something he never thought he would do and offered a hand to help Ivar up. Ivar raised an eye brow, equally surprised by this gesture. He smirked wryly at Shadow and allowed the big man to pull him up.

When Ivar was steadily on his crutches, they followed Freya together. Meanwhile, Wednesday clicked his tongue and ruefully said to no one in particular, “I’ll just stay here, I suppose.”

Ivar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He kept moving forward. Hvisterk spared a hostile glance over his shoulder at the old, dying god. Shadow didn’t want to look back. Not ever again.

As they approached, he watched Freya raise her long, elegant index finger to her mouth and bite down. She turned to the tree and began to trace ruins with her bleeding finger, her lips moving quickly with no sound coming out. Her eyes were burning with concentration.

“How did you know?” Ivar inquired quietly, his voice tinged in bitterness. “How did you know that he was playing us?”

“Maybe in your time, Wednesday was a god worth worshipping. Nowadays, he’s been reduced to little more than a con man.” Shadow replied ruefully. “Stunts like these are just kind of his thing.”

Hvitserk gave him a strange look, “Yet you still don’t want to let him go.”

Was it that obvious? Hvitserk may have been goofy, but he definitely was perceptive. Shadow conceded with a slow nod.

“Don’t ask me why. I can’t explain it myself.” He whispered.

Though none of them could see it, the corners of Wednesday’s lips quirked slightly, so subtly that most people would miss the change in expression. Even fewer would be unable to interpret what it meant.

Freya walked towards the World Tree and was promptly swallowed by its bark. Shadow was far past the point of questioning these things and followed her, finding himself under a blanket of stars. Stars that normally could only be seen from the most remote places on Earth.

“We must be quick.” Freya announced.

No one questioned her. They followed her wordlessly. In the distance, Shadow could see the strange metal spider that he and Wednesday had encountered during one of the instances that they’d gone Backstage together. He dared not go near it. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Hvitserk glancing at the mechanical spider curiously.

He uttered to the dead man, “Trust me. You don’t want to know what that is.”

———————————————————————

They wandered until they found a strange door sitting, not connected to anything. It was the shape of a teardrop, carved with the image of a great tree. It’s handle looked like the hilt of a decorative sword.

By this point, Shadow’s migraine had come back with a vengeance. He was nauseous and his left eye was throbbing as if it had just been punched.

Freya guided them through the door, her eyes searching Shadow in concern. He’d definitely been back there for too long.

The door lead to the largest dining room that Shadow had ever seen. Rows of sturdy, long oak tables stretched as far as the eye could see, covered in food that looked absolutely heavenly. There room was filled with loud conversation amongst the warriors seated at the table, who ranged from ancient to more modern. Shadow spied what appeared to be some soldiers wearing what appeared to be uniforms from the first World War laughing with Vikings as if they were old friends. A Zimbabwean soldier spilled mead on himself and the Samurai seated next to him. The Samurai merely playfully clapped his friend on the arm and the pair pretended to argue as they cleaned it up. The hall appeared to be endless, bathed in the golden glow of warm candle light. A Great Hall indeed.

Freya quietly explained, “Since the Viking age ended, we’ve had to outsource. This Hall is now shared by any warrior that is willing and capable of defend the world in the final battle for the world, regardless if they are Viking or otherwise.”

Shadow turned to face her and was instantly stunned. She stood even taller now, her eyes and hair glowing bright gold, her angular face seemingly sculpted from the finest marble. Yet at the same time, he saw a great falcon whose wings stretched across the room as well as a large, proud boar with golden whiskers. All of these images of the incredible goddess flowed together as one.

Ivar’s crutches thudded behind them both, one of them purposefully tapping against Shadow’s calf. Thankfully, he was careful to avoid using the pointy end in his pursuit to be a nuisance.

Ivar snidely said, “Yes, it’s lovely to be back, truly. But alas, I’m still feeling rather dead.”

Hvitserk followed behind him and nodded gravely, “I also don’t feel any different.”

The each incarnation of the goddess rolled her eyes, then waved her hand towards the tables, “Drink the mead. Outside, if you please. Otherwise, you are cleaning it up.”

As Hvitserk walked past to grab one of what appeared to be thousands of bottles of mead for himself and his brother, Shadow heard him whisper, “Clean what up?”

To which, Ivar made a face and shrugged a shoulder.

Shadow thought about telling them what happens when the Dead have rot expelled from their bodies, but the a devious part of him decided that it would be more fitting to allow them be surprised. Let them be the ones on the ground feeling like shit, for once.

As the pair stalked out, Shadow and Freya stood by the door, gazing quietly at the warriors feasting and joking together. They stood so quietly that it was uncomfortable.

Shadow finally thought of something to break the silence, recalling something she had said to Wednesday, “So, you… you’re a researcher?”

She seemed equally relieved to have that silence be broken. “Yes. Yes, I am. I am looking into the tumor suppressor, PTEN and the possibility of reactivating it as a form of cancer treatment. It’s coming along.”

Naturally, Shadow wasn’t familiar with her field of study, so all he could contribute to the conversation was, “Wow. That’s… that’s great. Wow. Where are you doing this?”

The boar, falcon, and woman replied, “University of Michigan at Ann Arbor.”

“Oh wow.” Shadow cringed internally, realizing that he was saying ‘wow’ far too much. “I mean, that’s a nice school. That’s really good.”

“Yes, I like it.”

The door suddenly swung open again and smacked against the wall. Hvisterk stumbled in, his skin, hair and eyes lit from within by a healthy glow. Shadow hasn’t realized how young her was until he was the dead man free of the rot that had plagued him. I’m addition with looking like a baby, Hvitserk looked troubled, wiping water from his eyes with a finger.

Shadow already knew what unpleasantness Hvitserk had just endured to get his liveliness back, but was about to ask the young Viking what had happened anyway when Ivar appeared in the doorway behind his brother and snarled, “Worms. Out of every orifice!”

Shadow grimaced, not wanting to imagine what that had been like. However, at the same time, he couldn’t feel too bad for the man that had been entirely too eager to kill him.

The incarnations of Freya all appeared to smirk at the same time, “That would be why I told you to go outside.”

Ivar shook his head and huffed in response. He looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but had thought better of it. He also looked young. Young and pretty in a way that was completely incongruous with the bitter, violent man that lay under the skin.

A golden wing waved gently between Shadow and the pair of Vikings. She announced, “Time to say your goodbyes, gentlemen. Shadow needs to go back home.”

Hvisterk immediately flung himself towards Shadow and pulled the larger man into a hearty embrace. Shadow reciprocated, whispering into Hvitserk’s ear, “Thanks for not letting your brother kill me.”

Hvitserk clapped Shadow on the back and chuckled, “No problem.”

He then unexpectedly kissed Shadow on the cheek and sauntered off. And did he just wink?

Shadow looked at Ivar in confusion. The only comment Ivar had on his brother’s surprising show of affection was, “I have no intentions of kissing you.”

“Good.”

“I suppose I should thank you for getting us back here. You have my sincerest gratitude.” Ivar spoke as if offering Shadow anything other than biting sarcasm was the hardest thing in the world for him to do.

Shadow nodded deeply.

“That being said, I should possibly also apologize for wanting to torture you to death. So… I’m sorry. I guess.”

This was one of the worst apologies that Shadow had ever heard, but truthfully, he was surprised that he even got one.

He put a hand on Ivar’s shoulder gently and said, “All is forgiven.”

Ivar nodded once, his intense blue eyes scanning Shadow’s face.

Shadow patted the Viking in the shoulder once as he continued, “Ivar, I hope I never see you again.”

Ivar’s familiar mocking grin spread across his face as he laughed and pivoted to join his brethren.

Now, all that was left was for Shadow to return home and find some way to sell that house that felt so empty. It was time to move on.

#and yes Wednesday is still sitting there to this day lol #he’s just chilling #American gods #Vikings #american gods x vikings #shadow moon #ivar the boneless #hvisterk whiteshirt

[bullshitcharacterssay]

Ubbe : There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Hvisterk way.

Ivar: Isn't that the wrong way?

Ubbe : Yes, but it's faster.

#vikings #vikings incorrect quotes #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #ubbe #sons of ragnar

[brknmnds]

I really want to write Aegon, Hvisterk and/or Ivar in a Bridgerton verse. Maybe even Daemon.

So if you want them please take them.

#ooc

[popcorn1989]

If you want the Vikings Boys to pull a tooth for you

😱 I don't know about you, but there are candidates I would be afraid of. Tell me who you would go to and what you think :D

Note: These are all my Thoughts, the crossed out is my thoughts that my brain tells me to write down. xD You can see how my brain thinks while I write. (Hard, but with such funny things it's okay) Oh, if you have any ideas for something like this, please let me know. I don't bite!

Hvitserk

Okay, let's face it, we know what happens. No? I'm telling you:

You're trying to tell Hvitserk what's wrong, because your cheek is so swollen that it's hard for you to speak.

With two fingers, you hold your mouth apart and show him the tooth with the tip of your tongue. He looked attentively and nodded. Everything should be clear so far, if you are not so afraid.

He got (of course) pliers from the blacksmith.

Tell you things like: "quick and gone" or "done this many times before" Does this sound familiar to you?

But before you both start, he hands you a beer to "numb" you. From now on, you should know what is happening

Of course, it wasn't just one beer, but hey, you feel better.

When you were finally so drunk, you point to your cheek, you are ready to start. God forbid, you should never…. Well He was ready too.

The tooth, despite beer, was only after a lot of pain outside. But you immediately feel a little lighter, and it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

Of course, the wound is washed out with beer. But it didn't stop at washing it out. And it certainly wasn't the last.

The next morning you wake up with a sharp toothache, feel your teeth with your tongue and realize that Hvisterk pulled the wrong tooth. Definitely a candidate I'm afraid of, but only because more teeth are pulled.

Well, so you look for someone else and find someone quickly.

Bjorn Ironside

I'll say it upfront, no I wouldn't go to him, but now we are here

First, he looks at you like you're the dirtiest thing he's ever seen. Thanks for That

Of course, he also gets the pliers from the blacksmith

Says things like "I'll do it quick, just close your eyes, and he's out there" Well I don't know!!!!

No anesthetic, but tells you he's ready to smack you to knock you out. You say it's okay the way it is.

Try to grab the tooth with His fingers and pull it out. Apologizes when he realizes how much it hurts you, but continues to fumble, Bacteria? Hello, where are you? *1 Oh did I say bacteria? Look at the end, I left a little fact there.

Back to Bjorn, he soon takes the pliers, which are way too big, but he tries to grab the tooth. Pains? So he says breathe them away. Should help, right?

Since he can only use the corner of the pliers, he breaks off some of the tooth.

He let go of you and glared around before pointing at you.

When he comes towards you again, you stand up and thank him for the nice try.

He looked at you confused, but slowly calmed down, he's more suited to the rough stuff. Get out of there quick

Yes, since it's still early, you'll soon have found someone else.

Ivar the Boneless

Huh? Should I say something? Ok, yes it will be nice....

He says he doesn't have time, but you were able to persuade him to make time for you.

Now you sit in front of him and tell him everything, but he doesn't ask you which tooth or if you can show him.

You ask him if he has any ideas and if he can help you. Why did you ask him that?

Anyway, you get a long lecture on how to take care of your teeth. *2 Oh, got an interesting fact here, see end.

Ask You why you eat so much honey and fruit. (Whether it came from that, you weren't so sure).

He meant that the gods punish you, you should ask yourself what you have done. Nothing so far, but you weren't sure if you were about to commit murder.

Gives you the tip to drink alcohol so that the pain was less. Maybe we should go back to Hvitserk, with luck it will be the right tooth?

Suddenly he changes the subject and asks you what you think of this or that he has done or commanded

Now that he doesn't want to help you, and you can't concentrate on any of his things, thanks to the pain, you get up and leave. Before you commit murder after all.

You will meet someone who is willing to help you. Namely …

Floki the Boatbuilder

Yes, I would go to him voluntarily, I believe he knows and can do a lot!

First of all, he will take a close look at every tooth, yes, every tooth!

Ask you how the pain is. Is it the tooth, or maybe just the gums? Ohhhh love him

But it turns out to be the tooth, and you think briefly of Ivar, maybe the gods are punishing you after all? pfff never!

First, he gives you a root to chew on. Of course on the side where the tooth is, and soon you will notice how it numbs the area.

In the meantime, he cleaned the small pliers he uses to pull nails out of the wood.

Says something like "Soon the pain will be gone" or "Be calm, you'll hardly notice anything" I believe him!

Took the tooth out in one go, sure there was some pain, but you were really relieved when you saw the tooth in his hand.

Gives you herbs to put in the hole. We'll, huh… we'll overlook the fact that he chewed them first, okay?

He asks you if he should make a pendant out of the tooth, then you can wear it around your neck. Huh? No, thanks

In return, he wanted nothing from you, except to have dinner with you. Helga had prepared his favorite meal today.

You would always go to him as soon as you had problems with your teeth. But thanks to Ivar, you now knew enough about how to take care of them.

*1 Fact: In the past, there were no accurate ideas about the causes of toothache. It was often believed that a tooth worm gnawed at the tooth and caused the pain. The true cause, bacteria, was unknown.

*2 Fact: Dental care was not necessarily common, people had other problems. And treatment was usually given only after the tooth was already painful. But when they did, usually, wooden sticks were used for this purpose, sometimes sprinkled with ash, ginger or other medicinal herbs.

FUN FACT:

The "Tooth worm" was really treated in the past. They tried to smoke him out. Quote: "But if a worm gnaws a person's teeth, the person affected should take equal parts of aloe and myrrh". The smoke should drive the worm away.

But there was also a very beautiful method, I think Hvitserk would have liked it. One should take good wine and boil it with wormwood and verbena. Then add a little sugar and let it taste good.

#vikings #ivar x reader #vikings fandom #vikings hvitserk #ivar ragnarsson #vikings x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #vikings floki #Floki x you #floki the boat builder #bjorn x reader #bjorn ironside #Bjorn x you

[tessastormrp]

[Closed] Replacing one Toxine with the Other [Ubbe]

@writtenbytate

Ubbe Lothbrok was a name that everyone knew. He had it all. Riches, the looks, a company that invested in the planet's future and all the talk show invitations to cement him in public memory for ever.

But he also had a neglectful father and a mother who never saw past his youngest brother. He had a halfbrother who constantly appeared into the tabloids with sex scandals. He also had a (mostly) fake boyfriend. He also had a golden child little brother with a god complex. He also protected his trans sister's secret from most of his family.

And he had Hvitserk.

Hvitserk was the problem child of the Lothbrok family. And Ubbe felt fully responsible for him.

"I am going to help you, Hvitserk. But you will have to obey. You will have to listen. You will have to do what I say. We do this my way." He whispered in his younger brother's ear. "I am going to take you apart and put you back together the right way." He murmured.

He slipped his hand into Hvitserk's trousers. "That will be a 'Yes, sir'." He growled, peeling Hvisterk's foreskin back with the pad of his thumb.

[nothingtolosebutweight]

Let my Prayers be your Fortress

Characters: Ivar the Boneless, Bishop Heahmund, Hvitserk Words: ~ 3800 [AO3] Warnings: none Summary: Before every big battle, Ivar makes the effort to style his hair in a special way. On this particular day he gets unexpected help or, as Hvitserk sees it, someone sabotages him. Just something small that came out of nowhere. 🙄

--------------------------------------------------

A critical gaze rested on him. Ivar didn't need to look at his brother to know that a remark was on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be blurted out. Surely he was on the verge of bursting, as the questioning gaze had already started shortly after Ivar had entered the makeshift tent where they had arranged to meet for a final council.

The fact that Hvitserk could hold out for so long without saying anything was in itself a peculiarity. Perhaps, Ivar hastily concluded, he was wise enough to weigh his options thoroughly and not risk a quarrel between them just before they would set out to slay some traitors from Harald's army. In the heat of battle, a knife could otherwise find its way into a body that doesn't belong to the enemy. By mistake, of course. One never knew.

That Hvitserk actually wasn't aware of this danger was revealed when they finished their conversation and his gaze once again wandered to the object of his inner struggle. He cleared his throat and adjusted his seat, straightening his back as if he could show more spine in an upright position, waiting for Ivar to return his gaze.

As soon as their eyes met, the withheld words gushed out of Hvitserk. As if the sealing of his mouth had been triggered by a curse that could only be lifted by looking into the bright blue eyes that his little brother had inherited from their famous father.

"What’s with that braid, brother? Do you need help to fix it? Did your hands fall asleep while braiding?" Hvitserk pointed vaguely at the spot he was talking about. Ivar didn't need to look in a mirror to know what his brother was aiming at. He knew that one of his braids stood out in particular. It didn't bother him, at least not as much as it seemed to affect his brother, but he still didn't want it to become a topic of discussion. Especially when the tent could fill up at any moment with more warriors to whom he didn't want to give an explanation for the state of his hair.

A curse to shut Hvisterk up would suit Ivar just fine at the moment.

"No, thank you. There's no need for that." Ivar spoke casually on purpose, not wanting to make a big deal out of it and hoping that Hvisterk would shrug off the subject faster that way.

"It is very much needed. This one braid is a disaster. You don't really want to go into battle like that, do you?"

"I will. Proud as ever and with the intention of winning. What about you? Now that everything is prepared and discussed anew, don't you want to go to your warriors to brief them once again? We cannot afford to lose this battle." Ivar rose from his seat and leaned heavily on his crutch. He tried to make it clear that this conversation was over for him, that he was about to leave the tent. He also tried to steer the topic in another direction. One which he preferred more and one that was actually important right now.

However, he had underestimated his brother's stubbornness.

"Exactly, we can't afford to lose, and yet you insult the gods by going into battle like this." Once again Hvitserk used elaborate hand gestures to point out the problem. "It looks like a child braided it. One who has only one arm and whose fingers are fused together. You can't be serious, Ivar?" He just couldn't believe that Ivar didn't seem to mind that his hairstyle wasn't as perfect as usual. Normally he had something like pride - and more than enough of it, and he always put a lot of effort into his hairdo. Especially before a fight.

The somewhat offended expression on his younger brother's face did not escape Hvisterk, although it was quickly covered by a grin to hide the fact that Ivar wasn't pleased with the last comments.

"Come on. Let me help you fix it." As brothers, it was nothing unusual for them to help each other do their hair. They had all learned how to do it at a young age, as had every other Viking. It was part of their custom.

His hand, which wanted to reach for the end of the braid to undo the cord that held it together, was slapped away in a dismissive gesture.

"Stop it. It stays as it is!" Ivar took two steps back, wanting to put distance between them so that Hvitserk would not dare to try again. "The bishop has braided this one," he added in a softer tone than before, making it sound as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to allow anyone other than his brother or personal slaves to touch his hair.

"What?" Hvitserk uttered in astonishment. He was now even more perplexed than before, which was reflected in the open-mouth expression with which he continued to stare at his brother. It was difficult for him to mentally process the information he had just heard.

"Heahmund did it," Ivar replied, slightly annoyed that Hvitserk reacted the way he did. It was an exaggeration, Ivar thought. He also failed to consider that the fact that he called the bishop by his given name did not make it any easier for his older brother to process what he had just revealed.

"Why did you let him do it?" 

Sighing in defeat, Ivar sat down on the bench from which he had just gotten up and gestured for Hvisterk to do the same. He had come to the conclusion that he had no choice but to tell his brother how it had come to this, so he decided to do it right away before he would be confronted with any more teasing or questions.

"This is going to stay between us. Just so we are clear."

"I promise," Hvitserk willingly vowed, curious about what he was about to hear.

~~~~About an hour before~~~~

Sitting in front of the mirror, which he had ordered to be brought into his tent, Ivar reflected on his thoughts about the upcoming battle, once again went through the possible outcomes that could occur, and considered how he would ideally react to them. At best, he wanted to be prepared for anything. 

Meanwhile, his fingers slid skillfully through his hair, laying strand after strand on top of each other until he reached the tips of his hair. With some liquid wax that he took from the burning candle in front of him on a small stool, he wetted the ends so that the braid did not come loose again before he would later join the smaller ones together into a bigger one, which would be held by a cord.

For today's cause, he wanted to make a special effort.

He heard the curtain in the entrance area of his tent being flung back and turned a little to be able to identify through the mirror who had allowed himself uninvited access. There were only a handful of people who would dare to do this, and when Ivar realized who it was, a gentle smile appeared on his lips.

"Bishop? What gives me the honor?"

"Everything is prepared. The army is ready and just waiting for your order to move out," Heahmund explained without wasting time with a greeting.

"Thank you for letting me know." Ivar nodded as a sign of his gratitude and let his gaze rest on Heahmund through the mirror. The latter was already in his armor, carrying his powerful sword at his side, making no move to say or do anything else. He just stood there and watched.

Ivar started to divide the next thicker strand into three equal parts in order to braid them together afterward. He wasn't sure what to make of the fact that the bishop made no move to leave again. Was he expecting anything?

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"I was just wondering why you waste so much time styling your hair that way. You should keep it short. It's so much more efficient." Heahmund awoke from his stupor and walked toward Ivar, grabbing another stool and placing it next to the young Viking before settling down on it. His eyes now fixed on what Ivar's fingers were doing.

"So you want to talk about hairstyles with me?" Ivar ended the sentence with a chuckle, the idea too funny for him that someone like Heahmund could be interested in such a thing.

"I would like to know why," Heahmund repeated the intention of his question stoically.

"Don't you think I look handsome with long hair?" Ivar asked teasingly, earning an annoyed look from the foreign warrior he liked to have around. Lately, even a bit more than a couple of weeks prior.

"That was not an answer to my question."

"No, it wasn't, but I'd still like an answer to my question first. Consider it an order from your leader." The amused grin on Ivar's face was impossible to miss. He found pleasure, as always, in emphasizing his superiority.

Heahmund let out a chuckle. Not even three lunar cycles ago, he would have taken this seriously. In the meantime, however, something had changed between them. A seed had fought its way through solid rock, had sprouted, and had thus sown a feeling in both of them that made them seek the closeness of the other again and again. As a good Christian, he was far from giving it a name, but neither did he vehemently resist these sensations, which were something new to him.

He was not afraid of Ivar, looked behind the facade of mockery. "It suits you, no question about it. But I still think short hair would be a lot less annoying."

Ivar once again reached for the hot wax in the candle and applied it to his fingertips before placing them on the end of the finished braid to seal it. When he heard Heahmund's response and saw how interested he still was observing him, his lips shaped into a smile anew. He believed that he didn't need any confirmation from outside, but the fact that Heahmund thought that his long hair suited him made him feel strangely pleased - if not even happy.

"This hairstyle is special. Long hair has something to do with honor in my culture. It shows that someone is a true warrior," Ivar began to explain, letting his gaze wander briefly to Heahmund's short hair. "You should let yours grow too. After all, you are a true warrior yourself."

"That's not going to happen," the bishop quickly replied, somehow taken aback by this suggestion and his imagination of himself in such a heathen way. "But when I first met you, your hair was pretty short. Why did it have that length when you say it has to be long to be seen as a real warrior?"

"Because at that point, I hadn't achieved anything that would have brought me honor, or at least not much. My hair was already longer in York than I had worn it the years before. You know, as children, almost everyone has long hair, but with the coming of the twelfth year of life, it is cut very short. For this, we have a special ceremony where the cut hair is offered to the gods in gratitude. For taking care of the child until this point, and from then on, you pay your respects to the gods by making sure it grows again. But especially the warriors and shieldmaiden in training do not let this just happen. From the moment of the ceremony, the achievements you make count. The more you achieve, the more raids and battles you successfully engage in, the longer you get to grow it again."

"So it's a kind of status symbol?" Heahmund listened with interest, torn as he so often was between fascination over the culture so foreign to him and the feeling that the whole thing was ridiculous.

"You could say that, yes. And by saying I should cut it off, it is like me ordering you to throw away your cross and sword. I would be depriving myself of my hard-won honor, and I would also be disrespectful to the gods."

Heahmund nodded in understanding. It made sense - somehow. "But why are you wasting time by braiding it? You could make a simple ponytail, but instead, you sit here for an hour like a royal woman with nothing to do but lose herself in her vanity."

This comparison was not particularly appealing to Ivar, and he clicked his tongue in warning. He liked Heahmund, let him get away with things for which he would have punished others long ago, but even this leniency had limits.

"You pray to your gods while making these stupid hand gestures..."

"There is only one God," Heahmund immediately corrected, never getting tired of doing this over and over again, and knowing full well that Ivar did it on purpose to tease him in his belief. The self-satisfied grin on the boy’s face was proof enough, that he had reacted much to Ivar's liking.

"Of course. How could I forget…," Ivar replied, playfully shaken, as if he couldn't explain how he could have forgotten. "So, when you pray to the one and only god, you do it in a certain way. I do the same by braiding my hair. With each braid I do, I speak to my gods, ask for their protection and their goodwill towards me. I talk to Odin, tell him about my strategies and hope that he shares his wisdom with me and that he will approve my plans. He is the wisest of all the gods, a great strategist himself. I place my hope in him acknowledging me as worthy and welcoming me to Valhalla in case I perish in battle. I also express my gratitude to Thor, the strongest of all the gods, and ask him to lend me some of his almighty strength. One blow from his hammer could bring us victory. He could summon a thunderbolt that would strike down anyone who is in the wrong."

"And in the wrong is anyone who opposes you and your victory, right?"

"Correct, your Grace." The nickname earned him a light punch to the upper arm, but Ivar just laughed it off and proceeded to split the next strand of hair into three smaller pieces.

"And to whom are you speaking now?" wondered Heahmund, who still hadn't had enough of Ivar's stories. He always found it fascinating when the boy began to tell stories, and he especially liked the enthusiasm with which he talked about the things he believed in. Heahmund was sure that Ivar would make an exceptionally good missionary if only he would not wander on the wrong path. He could listen to the young Viking for hours, spellbound by the soft voice that was so different from what one would expect from a cold-blooded war leader.

"To you," Ivar said with a smirk, stating the obvious, knowing that this answer was not what Heahmund meant and that it would easily annoy his guest. He couldn't help himself. He just loved that irritated look on the bishop's face.

To Ivar's disappointment, however, Heahmund was not annoyed, only returning the grin with one of his own as he raised his hand and pressed a finger against Ivar's temple. "I meant in there."

"Týr of course," came the quick reply.

"Of course. And what does this mythical creature provide you?" The bishop resisted calling these beings gods, as it felt too much like a betrayal against his own.

"Týr is another god of war. He helped to bind the giant wolf Fenrir by using a trick. The gods feared the wolf because he was supposed to devour Odin during Ragnarok. The end of everything. So they asked the dwarves to forge something that was so powerful that it could bind Fenrir, and so it came to pass that they forged a chain, called Gleipnir, so strong that Fenrir would not be able to escape. But the wolf was skeptical and demanded that he would only put the leash on if, in return, a god would put his arm in his mouth. As security, so to speak. No one dared to do this except Týr. He sacrificed his arm. Knowing full well that Fenrir would bite it off as soon as he realized he couldn't get off the chain. Therefore, I ask him to guide me when I too must make such a difficult decision. I pray that I will be able to decide for the greater good and that I will not be blinded or held back by selfish reasons."

Heahmund let the words sink in. Although he didn't believe in the existence of said gods, the thought itself fascinated him that Ivar was also, in some way, praying before a battle. He let his gaze wander to the small section of loose hair that still needed to be braided. Driven by an inner impulse and an idea forming within him, he let his fingers run through it. He had been watching Ivar the whole time they were talking and figured that his doings didn't look very complicated.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Ivar continued braiding unperturbed but was wondering what was going on in the bishop's head. He saw his thoughtful look and couldn't help but notice the fingers that gently slid through his open hair. Normally he only let a select group of people touch his hair, but Heahmund seemed to be one of them from that day on because Ivar didn't mind being touched by him.

"Can I do one myself while asking the true God for your protection?"

The question surprised Ivar, which was also evident in his facial expression. "Are you even able to do that?" He couldn't imagine that Heahmund had ever done anyone's hair before. Neither a normal pigtail, let alone a braided one.

"I've never done this before, but it doesn't look too hard," Heahmund said confidently. There was no doubt in his mind that he would surely master something as simple as braiding hair. Every woman or little girl could do it, so why should it be difficult for him?

Uncertainty joined the surprise in Ivar's features. Unlike Heahmund, he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it. It had taken him a few tries to get his braids to look reasonably good, but, as Ivar thought to himself, maybe it was because he had been a kid back then and had less experience with everything. Braiding his hair was important to him. It meant more to him than showing off a fancy hairstyle. Nevertheless, he finally nodded in agreement, giving Heahmund permission to try his luck.

In the following minutes, Ivar did his best not to burst out laughing. After the first failed attempts, where the braid sat much too loose or Heahmund already didn't know after the first moves which strand he should move next, Ivar tried to explain, and especially also to demonstrate again, how to do it correctly. But it did not change the fact that Heahmund was simply clumsy.

His fingers were not used to working in a delicate way. His hands were trained to hold a sword, to swing it precisely in order to inflict the greatest possible damage. He didn't have to be gentle in doing so. This lack of habit was more than noticeable, and Ivar's grin grew bigger and bigger the more often Heahmund loosened the messed-up braid again, becoming more and more frustrated as he began once more, refusing any further help in the process. 

The warrior's pride in Heahmund would not allow him to be helped with such a task, which he considered easy. He wanted to do it all by himself and prove to a broadly grinning Heathan boy that he was not too stupid to braid.

In the end, Heahmund managed to do a reasonably acceptable job, at least Ivar convinced him that the braid he had done was good enough. Secretly, though, Ivar just wanted him to stop pulling at his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar kept his report short and to the point, telling Hvitserk only the most necessary key data. Heahmund had joined him, they had talked about the custom of braiding, and so the bishop had wanted to try it himself. Fact-based and not too revealing.

That Heahmund had pressed his lips against his scalp while whispering sweet words, asking him to come out of the battle safe and sound, Ivar kept to himself. Also that he himself had interwoven three of his cords into one bracelet that was now wrapped around the bishop's wrist, no one but the two of them needed to know.

Hvitserk didn't need to know everything. The youngest brother wanted to keep this exciting part of his current life to himself. 

However, the gentle smile that appeared on his face as he recounted the past hour, the gleam in his eyes, and the overall dreamy expression were impossible to miss. They were telltale signs that even his older brother did not miss. It was just too obvious. 

Hvitserk did not possess much emotional intelligence, but that his little brother had developed a great weakness for the Christian warrior was undeniable even for him. It also explained to him, why Ivar was willing to go into battle with this monstrosity of a braid, which for Hvitserk still amounted to an insult to the gods. Knowing that a Christian hand was responsible for it only further strengthened his opinion.

For Ivar, however, this little braid was perfect. It looked like a disaster, but the meaning behind it made it the most beautiful braid he had ever worn. He actually felt more protected now, too. Not because of some weak god who might be watching over him in addition. Ivar could well do without Christ's protection, for he knew that his gods were on his side. That was enough for him. But what made him feel secure was the knowledge that he meant something to Heahmund, that the bishop wanted him to be protected, and that he would therefore defend him himself if it came down to it.

This feeling warmed his heart, and when Heahmund entered the tent and Hvitserk looked over at him, ready to hurl a few mocking insults, Ivar grabbed his brother's wrist with an iron grip, drawing his attention back to himself.

"Swallow it, Hvitserk, or I'll make you swallow your whole tongue!" It was not an empty threat, they both knew that. 

Just as Heahmund would protect him, he would prevent his pride from being broken. 

#heavar #heahmund x ivar #ivar x heahmund #ivar & hvitserk #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless #bishop heahmund #hvitserk #ivar lothbrok #fanfic writing #fanfic #my stuff #my writing

[cherienymphe]

omg i just read your post about vikings! i’m super excited if you ever do plan to do it, but i have to ask even tho i think the question is obvious, were u more of a ivar, hvisterk, bjorn or ubbe girl? i started out an ivar girl but something about hvitserk got me bad and i obsessed over him for like a month 😭

Ivar forever! A1 since day 1 😭

#asks

[minami97]

OKay.... So.... I gave incorrect quote generator and this SCREAMS Ivar & Hvisterk

#incorrect quotes #Vikings #ivar the boneless #hvitty #hvisterk #incorrect vikings quotes #ivar lothbrok #hvisterk lothbrok

[vikingsbifrost]

#marco ilsø #marco ilsoe #hvisterk #vikings #bullshit

[ivarswickedqueen]

Little rant

So, you want to tell me, that this man who loves:

Drinking

Killing and rading!!

Fucking women

...chose willingly to be a good Christian and a monk (or whatever it supposed to be at the end?? ) Really? Are you fucking kidding me??  More ridiculous thing would have been if Ivar became a good little Christian... 🙄

Plus he denied himself access to Valhalla and the opportunity to feast with his family again?? This is bulshit Michael Hirst and you know it!!!!

#hvisterk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #vikings #vikings season 6 #spoiler

[laketaj24]

I’d like to see a New Year’s Eve with Harald and something funny for Christmas for hvitserk decorating or anything you think would be good 🤷🏻‍♀️🤓 Thank you ! 😘😘

Author’s Note: I will likely come back around to Harald with the decorations! Just trying to not leave some people hanging!!! Sooo here’s Decorating with Hvitty!!!

Decorating with Hvitserk:

Hvitserk is like a kid he wants to eat everything that comes out of the bag, “is this made of a real cookie or is this a hoax?” Bites into a clay decoration.

Loves every song that comes on Pandora and tells you every memory that is attached while you do it. Let it snow plays over the speaker. “Look, when I was younger my dad would outside into the snow and sing this so loud it would wake up the neighbors. Harald hated us.” You look at him laughing. “Is that why you sung Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas while pissing in Bjron’s yard.” Hvitserk smirks. “Tradition carried on baby.”

Sings all the wrong words to Christmas Songs loudly while you try to sing them right

Dances barefoot in the kitchen with you while you attempt to hand the wreath in the hallway.

You hate decorating outside because Hvitserk for sure thinks he’s a ninja, jumps from side to side hanging lights and never falls, all the while you’re hyperventilating in corner.

Hvitserk is scared to death of all the animatronic characters and demands that they be no where in the house. But each year you wonder through the house hiding them in places he’ll set them off.

Prefers to allow you to put the star on just so he can look at your ass in the leggings.

#vikings #hvisterk #hvitty #hvitserk x you #modern hvitserk #hvitserk lothrbok #hvitserk ragnarson #hvitserks heathen feast #laketa j writes #christmas prompts

[fig-newtons-official]

Somewhere In America

1 2

Summoning: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @youbloodymadgenius @hashimily

The bag flapping against the broken window was grating on everyone in the car. Duct tape was keeping it in place decently enough, but it seemed that no matter how much they put on, it wasn’t enough to completely secure the bag enough to stop the dreadful cacophony.

Hvitserk switched out the discs from the CD player, much to Ivar and Shadow’s chagrin. They were blessed with the truly wondrous combination of the bag slapping the side of the car in perfect beat with the Pussycat Dolls. Naturally, Shadow’s migraine worsened. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his face with his hands, trying fruitlessly to mitigate the stabbing sensation radiating from his skull.

Ivar appeared to be enjoying the car ride as much as Shadow was. He had his head leaning against the window, staring out the window with his jaw clenched and eyes tight.

“Hvitserk, do you have any other CDs?” He asked in a strained voice.

“Yeah, check the glove box. Is this one not to your liking?” Hvitserk replied with a small smirk.

Ivar started to dig through their music choices as he grumbled, “I suppose this music is marvelous if you’re a drunken sorority girl.”

Hvisterk shrugged while wearing a mischievous grin as he replied, “I guess I am what I eat.”

Ivar turned and stared daggers at his brother. Shadow suppressed a groan as he sunk deeper into his seat.

“You always do your best to make me regret speaking to you.” Ivar uttered in exasperation.

Hvitserk’s smile seemed to get bigger with each moment that he annoyed his brother.

Ivar glanced at Shadow and barked, “Pick a number from one to six.”

He began to wish that he’d paid more attention to the CDs in Ivar’s hands. That damned migraine was making it too arduous to concentrate on anything for too long. Shadow picked number three.

Ivar held up the CD and looked at it with the amount of disgust that is normally reserved for particularly fragrant trash. Shadow didn’t even want to see what it was, so he let his eyelids flutter shut. He just knew that it would be loud and bright, two things that he didn’t need to experience right then. At least with his eyes closed, it minimized the throbbing in his left eye somewhat.

Thusly, they sped down the road to the tune of “Bad Girls” by MIA. It looked like something straight out of a movie. Not a good one, mind you, but a laughably inept B-movie found in the dollar bin that is best enjoyed with a few bottles of one’s favorite alcoholic beverage and friends with a generous sense of humor. (The same might also be said for this fanfiction.)

As the bad girls ‘did it well,’ Shadow pondered his situation as much as the agony in his head would allow. How could his life alone be sufficient to bring back the great halls of Valhalla? That simply didn’t seem reasonable, but then again, much of Shadow’s life didn’t make sense. Was it just because of his connection to Wednesday? Shadow’s life had been enough to bring Wednesday back from death last time, but was it powerfully enough to reinstate an entire subset of the afterlife? He doubted it. Something simply was not adding up.

Shadow dared to speak up, “How do you know that this is going to work?”

Hvisterk frowned at him through the rear view mirror as Ivar responded in exasperation, “What are you on about, Shadow?”

“How do you know that my life will be enough to bring Valhalla back? Is it because Mr. Wednesday told you so? How do you even know that it’s truly gone.” Shadow questioned.

Ivar let out a little scoff. “Well, seeing as we’re here and not there, I think the answer to that question should be clear.”

“So where is everyone else then? Surely, there should be thousands of undead warriors wandering about.”

Ivar’s eyes narrowed as he scoffed again, “Did you think we were the only ones searching for you? Is that where you’re getting confused, boy? They’re out there, we just happened to find you first.”

“It’s just that… you’d think that we would have run into at least one of them at some point. Haven’t you been wondering where everyone else is?”

Ivar parted his lips to respond, but stopped. He and Hvitserk exchanged a glance with each other. The car was uncomfortably quiet for a long time afterwards, until they finally saw a lone tree stretching towards the setting sun.

They were there. They had arrived at the World Tree.

Shadow suddenly gripped the handle just as the car began to wobble a bit. He thought that he’d heard from one of the more car-savvy inmates that he’d encountered that this was called a ‘death wobble.’ Of course, the inmate had been talking about his getaway Jeep, so maybe that was a term exclusive for larger vehicles.

He whispered to the car, “It’s too late. I do appreciate the effort nonetheless.”

Immediately afterwards, the radio switched on its own accord. The chorus of an overplayed rock song began to croon from the speakers. It sang to Shadow, “It’s not too late. It’s never too laaaaaate!”

Hvitserk groaned as the song started and immediately seized the button to change back to his CD.

“Come on, we’re right there!” Ivar snapped.

“I don’t care. I’m not listening to this whiny trash.” Hvitserk countered.

“Ah yes, your taste in music is quite refined.” Ivar quipped.

“You don’t like this music either!”

“It’ll take two seconds to get up the hill. It’s fine.”

The radio was cut off abruptly after Hvitserk smashed the button. Not long after, the car slowed down until it came to a unsteady, bumpy stop. All of the lights on the dashboard flickered off in unison as the wobbling ceased.

All of them sat in heavy silence for a moment. Shadow had expected Ivar to sigh or say something snarky, but the dead man was eerily quiet. For the only the second time since Shadow had met him, Ivar was rendered entirely speechless. He didn’t take it as a good sign.

Ivar dug his crutches into the dirt to raise himself out of his seat. He opened the door closest to Shadow, but before he could exit, the dead man grabbed him by the collar and tossed him painfully onto the ground. Shadow rolled into the momentum to get some distance on Ivar, but quickly realized that Ivar wasn’t advancing on him. He was merely watching Shadow with that cursed smirk.

Shadow snapped, “Why?!”

Ivar snidely replied, “Why not?”

Hvitserk offered Shadow a sympathetic frown as he rose out of the driver’s seat. He looked as if he wanted to help Shadow get up, but thought better of it. He stood close as Shadow started to stand, as if he expected Shadow to try to run. Truthfully, Shadow didn’t know what his alternative was if their current plan failed. He just knew that he had to buy himself time until Ford could get Freya there.

Ivar offered a sardonic smirk, “Did I tell you that you could get up?”

For what felt like the thousandth time, Shadow wanted to knock that smile off of Ivar’s face. Instead, he decided to use his words. He’d had it with this dead prick.

“You know you’ve already won. You got me here. We both know I can’t fight you. I have nowhere to go and no one is coming to save me this time. So why are you still being a shithead?”

Ivar shook his head and chuckled, “You remember what I said about playing stupid earlier?”

“I’m not playing. Please, enlighten me.” Shadow almost snarled his response.

Ivar spoke to him as if he were an idiot, “Shadow, what do you see behind me?”

“You think I’m responsible for the car?” Shadow balked. “It’s got, what, 200,000 miles on it? It’s a clunker. It was bound to fall apart at any moment! It’s more rust than metal, at this point.”

Shadow could’ve sworn that he heard an offended little ‘hey!’ drift from the grill of the broken down car, so softly that it could have easily been mistaken as the wind passing through the trees. Sorry, Ford.

“Ah, yes,” Ivar began darkly, punctuating his words with a tilt of his head. “Just as the storm that you summoned was just ‘typical for the Midwest?’“

Hvitserk chimed in, “What difference does it make? We’re here. Let’s just get him to the tree.”

“The difference it makes is how it happens.” Ivar explained. “See, the traditional method to offer a sacrifice to the Allfather is to hang the offering by the neck,” He slowly drew a line across his throat with his index finger to illustrate his point, “And to spear them. But that is for the ravens. For the worthy. Perhaps an eagle would suit Shadow a bit more, hm?”

Hvitserk appeared to get even more pale than he was before, which made Shadow uneasy in turn.

The ensuing argument between the brothers was in Norse:

“Do you really think that’s necessary, Ivar?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Do you disagree?”

“When we drew the eagle upon Ælla’s back, that was well-deserved. He had murdered our father. When father drew one upon Jarl Borg, that was also well-deserved. But Shadow? I feel that he isn’t worth that kind of effort.”

Ivar let out sharp a little exhale, smiled humorlessly, then stated, “I have maggots in my lungs, Hvitserk. They squirm every time I speak.”

Hvitserk shuddered, knowing that he was getting close to being at the same stage of decay as his brother, “I know.”

Ivar let a rare moment of vulnerability flicker across his features, but only for a moment, “We were there, Hvitserk. We were in the great halls together, finally, as brothers. We were all reunited. Sigurd and I were actually getting along. Bjorn and I had forgiven each other. And now it’s all gone, because of that fucker over there.”

Ivar paused to give Shadow a scathing glare, then continued, his voice dripping in malice, “You know the stories. You know that if we don’t return, that means that we will continue to rot here as the enemy prepares until there is nothing left of us, or of any one else that has been cast out. You know that if Valhalla falls, the world will be swallowed by the Fenris wolf.“

“I remember the stories well, Ivar. I know what’s at stake.”

“Then you know that his crime greatly eclipses that of Ælla, Jarl Borg, Lagertha and all others that have wronged us. He deserves it more than anybody. You will not change my mind on this.”

“What about what we talked about in the car? Where are they? Bjorn and Ubbe were good trackers, so were Ragnar and Rollo. They wouldn’t be this far behind. What if it really is just us?”

“It’s not just us. It can’t be. There’s no way. Now stop pestering me!” Ivar snapped. However, Hvisterk knew his brother well enough to see that he was just as unsure as he was.

Ivar ended the conversation with a jerk of his chin in Shadow’s direction.

Hvitserk obediently grabbed Shadow by the back of the shoulder and directed the taller man towards the World Tree.

Shadow numbly whispered, “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

Hvitserk muttered back, “It was worth a try. The most I can offer to do for you now is to kill you before he can make the first cut.”

First cut? Shadow didn’t know what the ‘eagle’ remark had been about, but he was certain that he didn’t want to find out. Hvitserk’s offer of a merry killing also didn’t inspire much confidence. Ivar wasn’t stupid, so Shadow was expecting him to figure out what his brother was up to sooner rather than later, assuming that he hadn’t already.

When they reached the peak of the hill that the World Tree occupied, they were all stunned to see a tall woman facing away from them gazing at the uppermost branches. Shadow guessed that she had to be at least 6”8. Even from behind, he could tell that her brown, tweed suit set was slightly too baggy, making her look rather disheveled. Her hair was a mousy brown that appeared to be darker in some places than in others, as if she had dyed it herself and had done a terrible job at it.

She turned slowly, allowing them to see her face. He wore large framed glasses that didn’t suit her heart-shaped face. That being said, her skin glowed from within, making her appear ethereal despite her frumpy outfit.

Ivar collected himself and greeted her, “Lady Freya.”

The corner of the goddess’ mouth raised almost imperceptibly, “You don’t need to waste that title on me, Ivar the Boneless. I haven’t been a lady in quite some time.”

Ivar hesitated before speaking again. Shadow allowed himself to feel a small moment of victory for catching Ivar off guard. Even so, Ivar’s cool demeanor remained, “May I ask as to why you have chosen to bless us with your presence?”

A familiar, deep voice jovially replied, “I suppose she’s here for the same reason as the rest of you.”

Shadow would know that voice anywhere.

The voice spoke again before Shadow could tilt his chin to look, “Shadow, my boy! You truly are a sight for sore eyes.”

Shadow met the old man’s gaze and was immediately flooded with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. All at once, he was livid, ecstatic, afraid, hopeful, mournful, along with a few other emotions that he wasn’t articulate enough to identify.

Wednesday looked terrible. He was so much older, and appeared to be a mere illusion of himself, almost as if Shadow was looking at a silhouette through particularly thick mist. The old man was propped up in a vintage wheelchair with a pale, geometric quilt over his shadowy lap. His hand shook in the arm of the chair as if on its own accord. His rippling skin was covered in spots. Shadow had taken Wednesday’s glass eye after his apparent death and it appeared that Odin hadn’t bothered to replace it. Despite the fragility of his body, the old man had that same thunder in his single eye that Shadow remembered.

Shadow kept all of what he was experiencing buried deep within himself as he replied, “It’s been a long time, Mr. Wednesday. I would ask if you are well, but clearly that would be silly.”

Shadow couldn’t tell if Wednesday chuckled or coughed, “You’re right, my boy. That would be a ridiculous question. But enough about me-”

“No, this is all about you.” Freya interrupted curtly. “You can start by explaining why our warriors have been ejected from the Halls. Or maybe you’d like to start with how you’re still alive?”

Wednesday grinned at her as if he’d just noticed that she was there, only for the smile to turn into a confused frown, “Freya, my dear, what did you do to your hair?”

Freya scowled and forcibly tucked the discolored strands that framed her face behind her ears, “It was for work. Not important.”

“You used to be so proud, so elegant, so strong. Now, look at you. The great, beautiful Freya, a common pencil pusher. I certainly hope that you have your own desk, at the very least.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed, “Just. Answer. Me.”

The old man eventually shrugged and calmly stated, “Well, my dear, I’m afraid that Valhalla is no more. It must be rebuilt. As you can plainly see, I am in no condition to be doing that on my own, so I had to enlist in the help of these fine, upstanding soldiers to find someone who can aid me in my poor health. Is that so unreasonable?”

Freya scoffed rudely, “You haven’t changed a bit. I have my PhD. Two, in fact, not that you’d ever cared enough to ask. And even if I didn’t have education on my side, it would serve you well to remember that I am not easy to bullshit. You will have to try much harder than that. Or you can save us all some time and simply tell me the truth.”

Wednesday looked hurt. Shadow couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “That is the truth. And it pains me deeply to hear that you think I don’t care.”

“I suppose that’s why you offered my hand in marriage to a giant without my say-so simply because you didn’t feel like paying for the wall around Asgard?” She retorted.

Wednesday chuckled once, “Oh, that was so long ago! I’m surprised that you can remember such things-”

She cut him off, “I wasn’t finished. Need I also remind you of the time that…”

As she angrily recant her story, Ivar sighed resignedly and slowly lowered himself to sit in the grass. He glanced at Shadow and Hvitserk and muttered, “If she’s going to list out every time that he’s wronged her, then this could take a while. Might as well rest my legs a bit.”

He then abruptly turned his head and coughed roughly. Shadow’s stomach rolled with revulsion when he saw that Ivar had just spit out a ball of writhing, pale maggots.

As Freya let Wednesday have it, Shadow and Hvitserk shared a glance, then joined Ivar in the grass. It was surprisingly lush to the touch and it felt calming for Shadow the run his fingers through it. Not enough to settle his nerves completely, naturally, but it was helpful. Hvitserk began to rummage around his own coat pockets to find something to occupy his attention. He let out a little excited ‘oh!’ then withdrew a bag of Skittles from his pocket.

“I forgot I had these!” He whispered cheerfully.

He poured a few into his palm then shoved them in his mouth all at once. He offered the bag to Shadow. He politely declined, feeling way too keyed up to eat anything. When the bag was offered to Ivar, he wordlessly took a red one as he continued to watch Freya’s furious audit on Wednesday’s past transgressions. At one point, he tried to cut her off, which only served to amplify her fury.

This went on for what felt liked hours, but in reality was only five minutes. By the time she was finished, Freya was red-faced and out of breath. Wednesday was motionless with a bewildered expression stretching his wrinkled face.

Freya happened to glance over and see the trio sitting on the grass. She briefly looked embarrassed, then bitterly said, “I hope you all enjoyed the show.”

Ivar cleared his throat, or more accurately, kept more night crawlers from crawling out of his windpipe, “If I may, we are in a bit of a rush. The longer my brethren and I are out of Valhalla, the further the decay progresses.”

“Yes, how was this possible, exactly? I was led to believe that Valhalla was designed to hold up without or without your presence.” Freya demanded.

Odin shrugged, “That is what I thought as well. Yet, here we are.”

Freya turned on him and snapped, “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow and breathed out a dismayed ‘hm.’

Freya stared at Ivar expectantly. He promptly explained, “I suppose that once the Allfather was defeated, the power that he used to keep Valhalla intact dwindled. He needs to regain his strength in order for us to return.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” Freya questioned skeptically.

Ivar grinned in a deceptively kind manner as he replied, “His son,” Ivar nodded at Shadow, “Shadow is more than capable of helping us rebuild. He just had to be brought here so that we could get started.”

Shadow tried to tell Freya with his eyes that what Ivar was saying was a misrepresentation of his situation. She met his gaze and her eyes narrowed.

“Shadow, is it?” After he confirmed his name, she continued, “Come here, please.”

The eyes of both Vikings bore into Shadow as he hesitantly stood up and approached her. When he was close enough to see that she had a small cluster of freckles across her straight nose, she muttered, “Did you come here willingly?”

He whispered, “No.”

“I thought as much. How much of what they are saying is true?”

“They all believe that sacrificing me is the only way to restore Valhalla, but they only know as much as Wednesday has told them.”

Freya nodded slowly, her eyes closing pensively, “I see. And I imagine that you sent your strange, bumpkin friend for me in the hopes that I’d have a better idea?”

“That’s exactly it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” At this, Shadow did all that he could to hide his disappointment, but it appeared that she was able to sense it anyhow, as she assured him, “I don’t know what to do now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t figure that out together.”

Shadow quietly replied, “They seem pretty hellbent on killing me. And if it’s not me, I imagine that they’ll find some other poor fool to sacrifice instead.”

“No. Assuming that Grimnir is telling the truth about requiring blood to bring back the Great Hall, it most likely would have to be you. You’re the son of the Allfather.”

Shadow sighed, “Great.”

“But in my experience, Shadow, there is always more to every story.”

Wednesday suddenly interjected, “As lovely as it is to watch you two chatter with one another, it’d be even better if we could participate in your delightful conversation.”

Freya called back, “One moment.”

“We’ve given you many moments, my dear, and we don’t have many more to spare.” Wednesday argued in his calm, controlled demeanor.

“Just a second! You can wait one second!” Freya retorted before quickly hissing to Shadow, “When I tell you to, run to the car.”

#can you tell that I’ve been diagnosed with chronic migraines and I needed a character to experience my suffering with me? #sorry to end the chapter like this but it just kept getting longer and loooonger lol #shadow moon #ivar the boneless #Hvisterk whiteshirt #Wednesday American gods #american gods x vikings #Vikings #american gods

[jazzycasino]

‪I hope Hvitserk confronts Ivar about everything he did to him, how he patronized, belittled him and drained him to the point where it ultimately messed up his mental health. What he did to Thora and her family, let him know she was carrying his child when he k*illed her. Set u‬p some boundaries dude. That’s me asking for too much bc hirst is going to erase it all.

#vikings season 6 #vikings #ivar #hvisterk