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barnes-lothbrok · 2 years

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Jealousy

Ivar x reader

Summary - Ivar and you have always had a bond, a closeness but over time and as you mature things change, Ivar gains feeling he can't explain

Warnings - angst, fluff, death of a parent, swears

Word count - 2k

This all started because of a gif set by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie and I sort of ran away with it

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You grow up alongside the sons of Ragnar. Being the daughter of Aslaug's closest confidant, you were always in close proximity to the brothers during childhood. You were closest in age to Ivar having been born only a few months before and as you grew together, you formed a bond that no one could truly explain.

You were the only one who wasn't terrified of him after the incident with the boy. As all the children in Kattegat would run away from him, making a game out of it, you were seen happily pulling his cart around, chatting away to him as you venture around the town taking him anywhere he wished to go.

On days where he was unable to play, you would sit with him and make up stories to keep him entertained, often acting out some of the scenes, bouncing around his room as you fought a dragon or giant sea monster.

As time passed a few things changed, while he was being mentored by Floki, your mother had you learn the loom and the meaning of different herbs.

But you were never apart for long as on days when he was still busy you would run to Floki's cabin and wait for him. On days when you didn't meet Ivar, he would wait for you by the tree you'd claim as your own when you were younger, having craved IL + YN into the trunk.

You spent hours laying under the tree, side by side, watching as the sunset and the stars appeared twinkling between its branches. It was the place you shared your hopes and dreams with one another.

You wished to become a shield maiden, just like the legendary Lagertha, while Ivar dreamed of becoming a warrior, to be able to raid and fight along side his brothers.

The afternoons and evenings spent under that tree was the first memory Ivar had of the flutter that appeared in his chest whenever he looked at you. You never laughed or mocked his desires, you simply listened and smiled at him.

The first big change to your friendship was when Ivar spent the night with Margrethe. Everyone was aware of how she spent her time between the princes, of how she'd captured all of their gaze. She was extremely beautiful and you never missed the way, they all looked at her, especially Ivar.

So one evening after having been invited to dinner and Aslaug had left the table, it was no surprise when his brothers tried to convince Ivar that Margrethe was the perfect option for him to lose his virginity. They spoke as if you were one of them.

"I'm sure Y/N agrees" Hvitserk said, finishing a mouthful of pork "Right?"

You looked between each of them from Hvitserk with his dopey expectant smile to Sigurd who peered from under his hair, gripping his cup a little too tight, he had always hated the idea of sharing with Ivar, and then to Ubbe who's smile dropped slightly as if he knew you didn't want to answer.

"I mean, sure" You shrugged, looking down at your cup of ale, unable to even look at Ivar. If you had, you would have seen the light in his eyes fade a little. "The way you all speak of her, he would be a fool, not too"

After that night and the rumours of Ivar being impotent spread, Ivar drew himself away from you, spending more time training with his brothers or at the blacksmiths.

Your dream of becoming a shield maiden was put on hold when your mother became sick. A plague hit the town, taking your mother with it. Aslaug brought you in as a kindness for all the years your mother was by her side and treated you like a daughter she never had. She taught you many things a woman could be, beside being a shield maiden.

On the day, Ivar took his first steps, you had been in the market when you noticed Ubbe and Hvitserk hanging around the blacksmiths. You made Hvitserk jump as you suddenly appeared between them.

"What are you doing?" You spoke loudly and close to his ear, causing him to almost choke on his apple. You were about to laugh until he pointed at two legs caged in metal on the floor.

While grunting and groaning, Ivar heaved himself up. You wanted to rush forward and help him but Ubbe gently placed a hand on your shoulder. Taking small and wobbly steps, Ivar stood before your trio, a wide grin on his face.

"Ivar" you whispered, looking him up and down before grinning back "Ivar, you're walking!" You joyfully cried before barreling him into a hug and having to apologise profusely as you almost knocked him backwards.

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It was after the return from their first raid, that Ivar noticed his brothers spending more time with you, getting closer than they did before. It seemed to grip his chest with an urge to hurt them or pull them away from you every time he saw it.

The summer away from you seemed to make the Lothbrok brothers notice how you had turned into a beautiful woman. No longer the messy haired bundle of energy that would play-fight with them or get drunk with them but a woman who held herself with elegance and grace. While they had been away, Aslaug had turned you into someone much like herself.

Ivar first noticed Hvitserk being closer to you. The pair of you had been sparring, although their mother didn't approve, you would often join them in training when you were free to do so.

As you moved backwards, you stumbled over a small rock and while trying to catch you, Hvitserk's feet became tangled in your own. Crashing to the ground, Hvitserk arms were beside your head as he caught himself from squishing you. Your faces were inches apart as the hair falling out of his braid covered your faces like a curtain.

Ivar didn't miss the way, you stared at each other, breaths caught before you burst out laughing when Hvitserk dropped his head and blew a wet raspberry on your cheek, causing you to squeal with laughter and push him away.

The second was Sigurd. He nearly fell over when he walked into the hall and found you sitting on the floor in front of Sigurd. His arms were wrapped around you, from the chair above as he tried to teach you the strings to play a tune on the lyre. He'd been practicing for Ubbe and Torvi's wedding.

When he played it always sounded so beautiful but when you tried it sounded broken.

"Sigurd, you make it looks so easy" you whined and tried again before you both cringed at the noise it made "nope, I'm leaving the music to you"

"Probably best too, don't want to anger the gods at the wedding" He teased before surprisingly kissing your cheek. Sigurd had noticed Ivar watching and could help a smirk as he watched him leave before you looked to where Ivar had just been having missed him.

The third and final straw was Ubbe. Everyone was celebrating his marriage to Torvi. The hall was filled with music, laughter and drunken singing. It was late into the celebrations when he saw you speaking to Ubbe and Torvi.

He'd been watching you most of the day as you walked around, looking like a goddess in your flower crown, with your hair loose. You'd laughed and spoken with many people but not him. He supposed that was his own doing as he pushed you further and further away but how he wished it was himself that you were laughing with.

He watched over the rim of his cup as you took Ubbe's hand and began to dance. Sigurd and his band changed the music to a slower pace and Ubbe happily twirled you around, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Ivar could see you talking and smiling with each other. Ubbe said something to make you laugh, the melody echoed in Ivar's ears.

He clenched his jaw, eyes trained on the pair of you before looking away as your eyes met his. When he looked back again, he felt his heart being squished as you kissed Ubbe's cheek. He slammed his cup down and angrily gathered his crutch.

He couldn't watch anymore. Ubbe was married and he still had your affection, all of them did but him. Sure, he'd never seen anything more than kisses on the cheek but it was more than you had been giving him.

Ever since they returned, you didn't follow him around like you used to. In the past he would throw a tantrum and yet you would still be there the next day but now you seemed to be allowing him to keep the distance that he created and he didn't like it.

He thought about going back in there and demanding you talk to him again, that's all he wanted, was for you to talk to him.

That was a lie, he wanted so much more. He wanted to wake up beside you, kiss you, feel your touch. He wanted have celebrations like this for the pair of you. To have the life you promised each other under that stupid tree when you were too young and naive to understand the promises you were making.

You were meant to be his, you were always his and now you were slipping away with every passing day.

He paused for a moment conflicted as to keep going or to turn around. If he kept going, he would have time to think but turning around meant he would get answers to satisfy the demons telling him, you hated him, that you couldn't love him, that you pitied him.

As he turned around, he was taken aback by you coming out of the hall making your way towards him. "There you are" You smiled at him "where are you going? I was looking for you"

"Well I'm right here, I have been all night. Not that you even care" Ivar's brow was creased, his eyes struggling to hide a burning anger.

"Not care? Ivar, of course I care" you smiled didn't fade as you looked at him "I wouldn't have come to find you if I didn't, you donkey"

"You have a funny way of showing it" he spat "Parading around all day. Laughing at any man's attention, even throwing yourself at the groom. It's embarrassing, like a dog in heat"

"Throwing myself at the groom?" Your smile dropped and turned into a frown "I was congratulating Ubbe on the marriage to the woman he's loved for years. Every woman can offer the groom to dance, mine was tame compared to Greta's, which you would have seen if you hadn't stormed out"

"I wasn't going to stay and watch you embarrass yourself any longer" he held his head high, looking down on you.

"Embarrass myself? I was having fun. Which is more than I can say for you. Sitting in the corner of your brother's wedding, watching me with a face like someone pissed in your cup" you spat back.

He was shocked by the fact you noticed him watching you. You always noticed those intense blue eyes on you.

"Honestly, Ivar, I don't understand what I have done," you sighed "Ever since you got back, you have been this brooding, and sometimes cruel bastard. I have seen you like that to others but never to me"

The way you said his name like it was laced with venom, hurt "So tell me Ivar, what have I done?"

His jaw clenched as he gripped his crutch harder. His demons were yelling at him to call you a whore, nothing more than someone to warm his brother's beds, that you only stuck around for the lifestyle his mother gifted you and that you'd do anything to keep it.

But he stopped himself, as he looked at you, the expectant look on your face, the hurt in your eyes and the heavy raise and fall of your chest as if you were scared of what was going to come out of his mouth. He knew his anger could be vicious but never had it been directed at you before.

"You make me feel…." He started before looking away from you "You make me feel," he quietly said, looking you in the eyes again "and I don't like it. I want it to stop. I don't know how to make it stop"

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #vikings #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #vikings fanfiction #ivar x y/n #ivar x you #ivar angst #ivar fluff

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sigridsdottir · 1 year

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vikings + kids (1/?)

none of these pics are mine. if u want credit for any edits, please let me know! :)

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asa-writes · 1 year

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okay so first of all i ADORE your content so much and i wanted to ask if you could write a oneshot for sigurd x reader mayhaps? basically the reader goes skinnydipping in a lake in the woods and sigurd accidentally finds her and eventually joins her and the atmosphere is like magical and stuff- maybe with some cute smut if you’re comfortable with that 🫶🏻

Thank you so much!! Of course, here's the oneshot. I hope it's not too magical for you but this was the first thing that came to my mind...

"The Hunt"

Pairing: Sigurd x F!Reader

18+ Minors DNI!

Word count: 1,1K

Warnings: Smut heheh, light fluff, magic, unprotected sex, magical prn with plot

Sigurd pushed through the dense foliage, his bow in one hand and a quiver full of specially-fletched arrows on his back. He followed the trail of broken twigs, bent grass, and mud puddles left behind by the doe up until he reached the small creek. He scanned the muddy banks for hoofprints, but the tracks disappeared into the shallow water. Taking off his shoes and socks, Sigurd stepped into the cold water, careful not to make too much noise.

As the faint sound of rippling waves echoed up from behind a gigantic boulder that blocked his view of the lake and its secret inhabitant, Sigurd instinctively reached for an arrow and notched it upon his bow. His body tensed as he focused on what lay beyond that massive rock, yet nothing prepared him for the sheer beauty he beheld in that moment. A faint melody floated towards him, so gentle and ethereal that it seemed to come from another realm entirely. He could almost feel himself being transported away by its sweet embrace.

As Sigurd's body tensed, he almost followed the impulse to shoot in the direction of the sound. Then, there you were - a young woman standing waist deep in the lake, illuminated by a thousand stars that were entwined in an embrace with the sun. You both were gazing up into its colours spreading like wildfire across the sky in awe, as a cool evening breeze whispered through your ears. Unveiled and unashamed, you moved towards him in graceful strides, swimming throughtout the lake's surface like a creature from another realm of existence. To Sigurd's eyes it seemed as if your movements held some magical power that enchanted his innermost desires.

Mesmerized by your beauty and dancing gracefully in what seemed like perfect harmony with nature around both of you, Sigurd couldn't help but stare; he felt awed by this beautiful scene playing out before him.

You stood in place, the lake around you a kaleidoscope of light reflecting off the millions of shimmering droplets; your well-formed body slowly rising and falling with the calm ripples of the water before him. Glittering eyes beckoning him to come closer, you spoke with an ethereal voice that seeped into his mind like a dream. "Come forth, Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye", you said in that soft familiar yet distant cadence, "Don't be scared, join me". He smiled at your invitation, mesmerized by the beauty of this surreal moment.

He felt his loins stir as he tried to resist the siren call of your presence. "Who... or what... are you?" he struggled to ask, drawn in by your unearthly beauty. "Why do you know my name? And why are you here?"

You simply chuckled softly at his questions and waved them away with a flick of your hand. "I am no one of consequence," you spoke gently, flashing him an ethereal smile. "I have come only to cleanse myself."

Sigurd cast a wary glance around the forest. Was this all too good to be true, or had the universe conspired in his favor? The doe that had led him here seemed to have a purpose - perhaps the will of the gods themselves. With trepidation and curiosity warring within him, Sigurd took a step forward towards you and began to disrobe himself, watching all the while for any sign of danger. Perhaps this was all meant to be. Maybe fate was steering him towards his destiny.

As Sigurd undressed, your eyes shone like a field of stars on a moonless night. It was as if you had been waiting for him, expecting him to join you all along. You moved closer to him, the water lapping against your rounded thighs, and gave him a coy smile.

Sigurd felt a shiver run down his spine as your soft hand touched his bare chest. Your touch was like nothing he had ever experienced before - it was gentle and comforting yet electrifying at the same time. He could feel his heart rate quicken as you led him deeper into the water.

The cool liquid enveloped Sigurd's body, sending a jolt of arousal coursing through his veins. As you swam together in the lake, it was as if time had slowed down; every moment was filled with an intense feeling of euphoria.

Your lips found his in a passionate kiss, your tongue as sweet as honey. He felt your hands wander over his body, exploring every inch of him with a hunger that matched his own.

They moved together in the water, their bodies entwined, a blur of flesh and lust. You touched him more tenderly than any other woman had, so he decided to do so as well, caressing your cold throat, chest, breasts and shivering thighs.

"Tell me, temptress," he breathed out, feeling your perfect hands gently tugging on his braids, "May I take you? May I touch you? May... may I hold you in my arms?"

You smiled up at him with a look of pure desire. "Yes, Sigurd," you whispered. "Take me. Touch me. Hold me in your arms."

Sigurd needed no further encouragement. He moved his hands over your body, exploring every curve and contour, as he kissed you deeply. He felt your softness against him, your cunt's warmth enveloping him, and he felt himself losing control.

As your bodies moved together in the water, Sigurd knew that this was where he was meant to be and gripped you by your hips, pulling you down until he bottomed out and spilled his seed deep in your hot, fluttering cunt. This was the purpose that the gods had intended for him - to take you. He was lost in the moment, in the feel of your skin against his, in the sound of your moans as you rode your own high out on him, bouncing delightfully on his long, hard member.

He held you in his arms as you moved together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. It was as if you were two halves of the same whole - two celestial beings brought together by destiny. And Sigurd knew, without a doubt, that this moment would be etched into his memory forever.

As you finished and laid back into the meadow, he pressed a hasty kiss on your forehead and quickly went back to the lake, washing himself and turning around to grab his clothes.

He almost jumped out of the water in surprise, noticing a figure in the distance. It was the doe. It bowed its majestic head and left him naked in the water, galopping away.

#asas fanfictions #fanfiction #oneshot #drabble #sigurd #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd smut #sigurd oneshot #vikings smut #vikings oneshot #vikings fanfiction #asa answers

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blakeswritingimagines · 7 months

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Dating Sigurd would include:

Dating him is a thrilling experience. He is an adventurous and passionate man, who will take you on wild adventures and sweep you off your feet. His confidence and drive are contagious and his charisma can be alluring. He is a true gentleman who will treat you with respect and dignity. However, he is also a fierce warrior who will protect you at all costs.

On one hand, he has the experience and wisdom of over a thousand years to draw upon. He's also confident and bold, which can be very attractive. The downside is, he has a lot of baggage. He's been through a lot, and he can be a bit unpredictable. All in all, it's an adventure to be sure, but one that is worth it!

He is a fair and loyal person, and people know nothing but peace and happiness if you don't cross them. He would be a good husband to you, with many children and with respect towards you. In short, he wouldn't hurt you even if his life depended on it.

He will protect you as his queen and protect you and your kingdom. He will also be a great father to your children, to mold them into honorable and great men. And also, he will also respect your decisions and he will keep your council private at all times.

He brings you flowers just because he thought you'd like them.

He would always make sure that you're happy and safe, that you don't have to worry about anything. You both would live a simple life in the heartland of Norway and spend the winters together, sitting in front of the fireplace and watching the kids play outside in the snow. That's how he would imagine it.

He would be faithful to you, your beauty would only increase his love towards you, and the best part, he would only have eyes for you.

He would never leave you for another, he already knows that no one is more special than you, and every other person would appear dull in comparison, he would not be a jealous person, but if someone started talking and looking to you for too long and made you uncomfortable, he would let them know to keep their distance.

He would write poems and songs for you, with his most cherished memories of you, and your future plans. He would write you songs and poems every day with the most sacred feelings within his heart. He would also always be there for you, no matter how small or big the issue, he would comfort you, and assure you that he is there with you in every step you take. His biggest joy would always be being with you and seeing you smile.

He would be gentle and loving towards you, always having your needs in the first place. He would show his love in many ways, he would hug you when feeling bad, kiss you randomly, hug you from behind while you cook, and caress your hair. He would give you little attention like bringing you snacks and small gifts.

A very exciting and interesting experience. Being with a man such as himself can be quite a privilege. He is strong, capable and he commands respect. However, this is not to say that he is without flaws. He can be stubborn at times and he often finds himself in situations where his decisions leave others frustrated or angry. But, on the whole, being in a relationship with him is an experience you will never forget.

He's kind and strong, but also passionate and intense. He's always ready to take on new challenges and he never backs down from a fight. Being with him means never knowing what adventure might come next.

Dating him is like dating any other person. You go on dates (walks, picnics, etc.), you cuddle, you laugh, you have intellectual conversations, you cook, you make love. It's just that when dating him, you're dating a legendary Viking warrior, and that changes the dynamics a bit.

He is a gentleman in every way, he treats you with respect and compassion. He will never be unfaithful to the loved one he is with. He is strong and courageous, but also sensitive and vulnerable. His heart is true to the one he is with. He is honest and faithful, loyal and devoted. He is strong enough to protect his loved one, but also kind and protective. He can be fun and lighthearted, but also serious and thoughtful. He is a real treasure.

He has a thing for teasing and loves it when you take over and tease him in the bedroom, making sure he begs and pleads for it until you let him finally release the tension.

He also has a thing for exhibitionism and loves the idea of being watched or having sex in front of a mirror.

He likes to switch it up and be the submissive one sometimes, letting you take control and lead the way.

He also enjoys having you perform for him and put on a sexy show, including showing off your body for him and seducing him with your moves.

He likes you to be a little possessive and jealous, wanting him all to yourself, like a cat marking their territory with a soft bite or a gentle scratch.

Most of all, he likes knowing his partner is enjoying themselves and that he's making you feel good.

#sigurd x reader #sigurd #vikings sigurd #vikings #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd lothbrok #dating would include

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imeanwhynotbruv · 8 months

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The Lothbrok wildlings

Vikings and Wolves

Decided to do a bit of a visual thing to see what the family look like in the early chapters, so I found pictures as close to the age of the characters in the Fic, tho some are different.

• • •

Fic ages (beginning)

Bjorn : 14

Ubbe : 10

Hvitserk : 8

Sigurd : 7

Ivar : 6

(Were adapted to fit the story)

• • •

Most of the clothes fit pretty well, tho because they’ve just crossed the wall they’d all still be in their fur coats & their hair styles would be a bit different ( Eg Lagertha would put up Sigurd and Ivar’s hair in something simple)

• • •

I’ve taken some liberties with how they interact with each other to make them a close family unit,

like now Sigurd and Ivar actually like each other, but still bicker.

Ivar is still ruthless and dangerous, but in a slightly more controlled way? If that makes sense?

Without giving away too much, Sigurd and Ivar are totally mamas boys with Lagertha

Ubbe follows Bjorn like a duckling and Bjorn actually likes it (tho he’ll still mess around and act grumpy cuz he’s a kid)

Hvitserk tends to swap what parent he’s following but does go with Ragnar more often.

Hvitserk is a scared little kid a lot but also doesn’t have a filter, he’s just one of those brutally honest children (he still become a viscous warrior when he grows up)

Bjorn is insanely protective of his younger brothers, living over the wall was never easy and he wants to keep the safe, especially after Gyda died

Lothbrok wildings

Slight differences between the Vikings and the wildlings

They are technically a type of wildling as that’s what anyone beyond the wall would call them, but to other wildlings and to themselves they are considered Vikings

They still have the same beliefs as Vikings

The Vikings are still dangerous warriors who (because of multiple generations) have adapted to be able to withstand the cold better than others

The Vikings live in Kattegat and are almost entirely self sufficient, but they do interact with other wildlings for trading purposes

Vikings don’t trust Crows and have only had very few interactions that didn’t end in death

The Vikings still speak Norse as there used to be more of them, but over time they spread out and joined other clans, so it’s only the true Vikings (like the lothbroks) that speak Norse as their first language and lots of the other wildling languages second, few of them speak common tongue like Ragnar who learned it when he was younger

That’s about it for now 😅 because I don’t want to accidentally give things away, but yeah now you get get a better idea of what the boys look like.

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redskull199987 · 2 years

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Hi ! Can i request a viking one shot ?

The reader being younger than bjorn and a shieldmaden whos married bjorn for an alience with his army to yours but he loves you for real you just dont really care about him , and you and lagertha have a secret affair

Can you make the reader female and flirty and lagertha and her being genually in love ?

Thank you!

So firstly, I am so sorry that it took me so long to answer. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it too, Loveʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Secrets & Betrayl

Lagertha x female!reader(Bjorn x Female!reader) Request

Word count:1.2k

Warnings: well, an affair obviously, a little bit of Angst, not much though, Cocky reader

Summary: You only want to meet up with your Lover, as Bjorn seems to devour you too...

Masterlist

I was casually walking around the great hall. A feast was being held today. People drank, laughed and ate together. It was a normal day in Kattegat. I was on my way out, when I felt someone bump my shoulder.

"I am sorry, my queen"

A smile rose to my face, as I felt Bjorn lean down to kiss the back of my hand. He got back up to pull me slightly closer to him.

"Where are you going?", he asked. I smiled and leaned up to him in order to kiss his cheek.

"I was just going for a walk", I whispered into his ear.

"Mind if I join?", He mumbled, grinning wildly at me. I only shook my head and pulled him with me by his hand. Once we left the great hall and stepped out into the cold, he put an arm around me. Together, we slowly wandered through the empty streets of Kattegat.

"It's a beautiful night", I said after a while.

"Not as beautiful, as you", I heard Bjorn mumble. I felt, as he leaned down and softly kissed my cheek. I felt his breath hit my skin and his ticklish beard on my neck made me giggle.

"I love you", Bjorn stated.

I looked up at him. His eyes shone with adoration, his words pure and nothing but the whole truth.

I carefully grasped his cheek:"I know"

I put my lips on his, before any of us could say anything more. I heard him sigh into the kiss, as he pulled me closer by my waist. His lips tasted like ale, but even though, he was intoxicated, his love was real. It had always been. From the day we met, till the day my father arranged our wedding, till today, where he kissed me like his life depended on it. Like I was his oxygen in a burning world.

Unfortunately, I had never reciprocrated his feelings. Sure, he was charming and a King. The king of one of the greatest cities in whole Norway. He had always treated me nice, never said or did anything to catch my disapproval, but still...I didn't love him. My heart belonged to someone else, but he could never know, it would destroy him.

So, as he pressed his lips against mine so passionately, every other woman would have fainted, but my thoughts were with someone else.

"How about we go back?", Bjorn asked, after we parted. I could feel his ragged breath against my lips. They felt sore, like he had taken away any feeling other than regret and pain for betraying him like this.

"Y/N?", he asked. Upon hearing my name, I looked up at him. I inspected his face for a second. He seemed so out of breath, so taken aback by such a simple kiss.

I was about to deny his request, as I heard the footsteps of someone else approaching us.

"Who do we have here?", the Person asked, a smile on her face.

"Mother", Bjorn smiled, trying to hide how flustered he was. He walked over to her, greeting her with a hug.

"Hello Lagertha", I said after the two of them parted. Lagertha smiled and walked over to me, also embracing me in a hug:"Y/N, it's so nice to see you"

Her hug almost lasted so long, that I thought, Bjorn would get suspicious. But he didn't, and the hug merely lasted a few seconds, maybe it just seemed longer for me, as I felt Lagertha's hand on my back, her long tender fingers around my ribcage.

"What are you doing here, Mother?"

Bjorn's words brought me back to the present moment. He looked at his mother with a smile on his face, even though the blush on his cheeks was obvious.

"Just enjoying the quiet night. Since everyone is feasting in the Great Hall, the city is pretty empty."

Bjorn nodded at her answer, looking around a little bit.

"We were just going back , why don't you join us?", He smiled, even though it was obvious, that he very much despised the presence of his mother right now. His eyes met mine and I saw the lust in his eyes, the Devour.

"Actually", Lagertha answered, turning to me,"I was looking for Y/N here, we have a few thing to talk about"

Bjorn looked surprised:"You do?"

He looked over to me, his eyes questioning if this was a joke or a serious statement. I only smiled and nodded:"We do, yes"

"What do you have to talk about?", Bjorn asked, clearly not understanding, what was going on.

"Oh, you know, Shield Maiden stuff, you wouldn't understand", Lagertha chuckled and patted Bjorn's shoulder, as she pushed him into the direction of the Great Hall.

"I see you later, my king"; I smiled, as I waved him goodbye. He only smiled and looked at me one more time. Desperation in his eyes, he seemed to ask if I couldn't somehow come with him.

But I didn't give him that satisfaction, so I only smiled, as I watched him walk back to the Great Hall by himself.

"That went smoother than I expected", Lagertha said and turned towards me with a smile. I only nodded at her.

"Why so quiet my Love?", Lagertha asked and brought her hand up to rest on my cheek.

"I can't help, but once again feel like I am betraying Bjorn", I answered shyly.

"My Love", Lagertha smiled,"Were you ever in love with him to begin with?"

"No", I said questioningly. Lagertha chuckled:"Then your're not betraying him, your're only following your heart"

I smiled at her words, she always managed to brighten my mood, one of the many reasons why I loved her.

"So, how about-"

Before Lagertha could finish her sentence, I pulled her closer to me by her waist, connecting our lips in a tender kiss. I poured all my emotions into that kiss, all my adoration, all my love for her. It felt like a light had switched. Instead of Bjorn kissing me with all his emotions, it was me kissing Lagertha now, but this time, my feelings were as real, as Bjorn's feelings for me.

"I love you", I mumbled against her lips.

"I know", Lagertha chuckled.

"Do you?", I grinned.

"Oh please", she said sarcastically,"You wouldn't kiss me like that, if you weren't."

"You're right about that", I said and let my hand wander to rest on her neck, while the other was still softly holding onto her waist. I leaned forward slightly, her long hair tickled my cheek.

"But same goes for you"

Her breath stocked and she leaned more into my touch:"You're such a smart girl, aren't you?"

"I am", I said cockily.

"Is that so?", she asked, a devilish grin on her face now.

"You know what?", she leaned in, but she stopped millimeters away from my lips, her breath fanned over my skin, our noses nudging.

"Smart girls deserve a treat"

As I laid with her that night, I was able to forget about Bjorn completely. Lagertha reminded me of who I belonged, who she belonged to. She remided my of why I loved her, why secrets and Betrayl were worth it, if you managed to find the right person.

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touchoflaughter · 1 year

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Vikings Headcanons pt. 2

As requested here are some more Tk-Headcanons of my favourite bunch of brothers! Enjoy folks!

Ubbe Lothbrok

Being known as the most peaceful Ragnarsson with a big community spirit, Ubbe is some kind of a playful Switch who uses tickling to conjure a smile up on his brothers faces

As the second eldest son of Ragnar, he sees himself as the arbiter of the group who brings peace to his competitive and feisty brothers. However he loves to put them in their places with a sneaky tickle-attack!

He'd do anything to see his brothers happy what makes him a considerate Ler. Ubbe immediately releases his victim when he got the feeling it get's too much. He looks after his Lee and makes sure they're feeling well and has at least as much fun as him.

Ubbe isn't ashamed if he get's tickled by his brothers from time to time, even though he can't suppress some snorts and squeals in the process. He even allows his brothers to tickle him sometimes, just because he enjoys seeing them happy and united.

In sum, Ubbe isn't the most ticklish but he got a few spots that really affect him. Such as his ribs, the back of the knees and his feet. If you manage to target one of these, you'll get to know another side of him...

It's rare but sometimes he turns into a more vicious Ler. Regularly this happens when the youngest, Ivar, runs riot once again and he decides it's time to teach him a lesson.

Ubbe isn't afraid of his brothers, except for the big one. Björn remains the strongest who can and will express his dominance towards his brothers anytime he wants. Even for Ubbe, there's no chance of escaping or overpowering the eldest.

He prefers to team up with Hvitserk or Björn but also chose Hvitserk as his favoured victim. That's why the younger brother is always quite willing to support Ubbe, hoping the bigger one wouldn't turn against him.

Hvitserk Lothbrok

As the middle child, Hvitserk teams up with the younger and older brothers alternately, what makes him pretty opportunistic. He tries his best to not become the victim but since he's for and against every brother- this pretty much fails.

Surprisingly most of the time Ivar is on his side, even though the lone wolf usually avoids to unite with others. Hvitserk gladly returns this favour, being the only one who has his stoic brothers back.

Hvitserk identifies as a Ler solely. Every inch of his skin is incredibly ticklish so he can't take the littlest poke. Unfortunately that makes him a very attractive target. Once his brothers team up on him, his mostly used diversionary tactic is drawing the attention to Ivar, hoping he'd become the victim instead. Often this one works, due to the sassier behaviour of the younger one. Nevertheless Hvitserk has to deal with the wicked revenge after his brother had have a rest...

He pretty much enjoys wrecking everyone but he's not as ruthless as Björn, let alone Ivar. Probably because he takes into account how torturous tickling is for him personally. Still, he's not as lenient as Ubbe, making sure his victim is weakened enough to not take revenge on him.

In case his great efforts fail and Hvitserk actually becomes the victim of one of his brothers - or even more than one god forbid - he's fucked. Since he's the weakest of them all (equal with Sigurd probably) and devastatingly ticklish, he stands no chance.

While his upper body is nearly as ticklish as Ivars (what's still a 10/10), his lower body is extremely sensitive too. You'll have him screeching and begging in seconds, no matter where you decide to tickle him.

Nevertheless, Hvitserk is one of those stoic Ler's who'd rather die than admit their ticklishness. And he's close to carry off sometimes...

While Ubbe tickles him a lot, only to tease out some squeals and laughter- Ivar get's him really good from time to time. The youngest doesn't do anything half-hearted so if he decides to wreck his opportunistic teammate, he makes sure he also finishes him.

Sigurd Lothbrok / Snake-in-the-eye

Sigurd and Ivar are never concurring, except for one thing: Tickling is the most childish and annoying thing to ever exist!

In contrast to Ivar, Sigurd doesn't even find much joy in being the Ler. He simply doesn't understand it, being the least ticklish of them all. No-one has ever elicited something like a giggle by tickling him. Nevertheless his brothers try again from time to time...

He mostly remains on the sideline of the tickle fights, even though he can't stifle a smile, watching his fierce Viking-brothers curl up and laugh like little children.

One thing he truly enjoys about that whole tickling thing, is seeing his hotheaded brother Ivar in agony because of some light tracing fingers. He'd never lay his hands on him himself but he got some rare feeling of gratification having his worst opponent pinned down and tickled to tears.

Sometimes Sigurd tickles one of his brothers by accident, just because he forgets some parts of their bodies are so embarrassingly sensitive.

He'd never admit it but one or two times in his life he wished he'd know what this weird sensation, that provokes even the toughest Viking into a laughing fit, feels like. Also, because his brothers seem to have genuine fun while tickling each other. Poor Sigurd.

#tickle headcanons #vikings headcanons #vikings fic #vikings tickle fic #tickle community #sfw tickles #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk #sigurd lothbrok #fics by aphro

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 10 months

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Come and Lay the Roses 36- Angel of Mercy- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline and Ivar are finally reunited.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Ch. 35

AN: Wow. It's been a long time. I've been thinking about this chapter for a long time and haven't been able to pin down why I waited so long to update. Part of me blames writer's block, part of me blames my schedule and timing, but the biggest thing I think that kept me from updating was that this would mean the end of this journey.

I came up with the idea for this story in May 2019 and after four years, it's finally finished. I don't think I was ready to end this journey and part with Aaline and the Lothbrok clan. I've been telling myself for weeks that I need to finish it and I've finally decided that I'm ready to end this journey.

I thank all of you who have stuck with me on this adventure.

“Angel of mercy, how did you find me? How did you pick me up again? Angel of mercy, how did you move me? Why am I on my feet again?”

~ “Mercy” by OneRepublic

She was warm. A marked difference from the last few weeks of her existence. She inhaled deeply and slowly, allowing the world to come back into focus. She blinked and surveyed the room she was in.

It was her room. Her and Ivar’s. The curtains were closed except for a six inch gap that allowed sunlight to stream in and light up the dim room. There was just enough to maneuver the room but not wake her.

She shifted and winced at the sharp pain that lanced through her back. It would’ve been gracious to call the bed she’d slept on for the last few weeks a cot. It was barely more than a metal frame with a threadbare mattress. The metal bars had dug painfully into her bones for the few days she tried to sleep on it. Eventually she took to sleeping on the floor. It was more comfortable by far but still gave her stiff muscles. Sleeping on a real mattress had done little to ease the ache.

She shifted slowly up to her elbows and glanced around. Clothes were littered on the floor. A serving tray of dirty dishes sat on the dresser across the room and a half full glass of water on the nightstand. She looked at the alarm clock and noted that it was the middle of the afternoon.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept or how many days had passed since her rescue. She felt grimy and dirty and knew she hadn’t been bathed since then. She decided not to wait around for someone to help her and hoisted herself out of the bed.

With stiff legs, she made her way to the bathroom and blinked rapidly against the bright white light that penetrated her eyes. She smiled at the bouquet of black roses that were situated in the middle of the counter. Ivar had even left a short note expressing his love. He didn’t date stamp it so she didn’t know when he’d written it but she settled it back on the counter anyway, contentment thriving through her veins.

She switched the shower head on high and undressed. Someone, probably Ivar, had dressed her simply. She pulled the black comfort t-shirt over her head and slipped her panties down her legs. The dirt and grime from the concrete room she’d been held in still decorated her body in streaks of gray and black and brown. She looked at her face in the mirror and narrowed her eyes at the vibrant purple bruise along her jaw and the dried blood that had caked itself in her nostrils and along her upper lip.

She tried to comb the rat's nest that was her hair so she didn’t tangle it further in the shower but there was little hope for the strands. She pushed it back from her face and stepped into the shower when the steam fogged up the mirror beyond sight.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth. The hot air filled her lungs and she felt herself relax. Her muscles began to unclench and she could feel her body disengaging from fight or flight mode.

Once the trembling in her hands had stopped, she picked up Ivar’s shampoo and dropped a generous dollop in her hand. She massaged the minty soap through her hair and shivered as her scalp began to tingle.

She combed her fingers through the knots as best she could, wincing at the extra sharp tugs that befell her scalp when she came to a particularly vicious snarl. She rinsed the lather and began again, working to clean all the grease and grime from her hair that she could manage.

She used her own rose scented body wash to scrub the dirt and grime from her body, scrubbing twice like she did for her hair, before turning to the leave in conditioner. She worked the lather into her hair before tilting her head back and closing her eyes, letting the hot water pelt her chest and stomach.

She startled at the sound of the bathroom slamming open. She barely had time to shut the water off before the shower door slid open and she was pulled into Ivar’s arms. He didn’t seem to mind that she was soaking wet and dampening his clothes. He pulled her out of the steam and lifted her, settling her on the counter top. She shivered against the temperature difference and he left her arms only long enough to wrap a towel around her shoulders.

He returned to her embrace and she wrapped her arms and legs around him fully, holding him in the embrace of her body. She felt him sign against her neck and knew it was a weight leaving his shoulders. He pulled back and pushed her hair behind her ears with the flat of his palm. She nuzzled into the contact.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his fingers combing through the wet strands of her hair. She nodded against his palm and tangled her fingers in the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“How many people did you kill searching for me?” She asked. He smirked and stepped out of her embrace. He took a second towel from the rack on the wall and began meticulously drying her off. He started from the top, softly stroking the towel over her hair, squeezing the ends. He trailed it across her shoulders and down her arms, stroking over the crease of her elbow and over the backs of her hands. He even toweled off the spaces between her fingers.

“Innumerable. There is no number that will equal how precious your life is to me.” He answered. He brought the towel to her legs and traced her thighs and hips. She sucked in a soft breath when he gently toweled off the space between her legs, stroking the curls and dragging between the crease of her thigh. He smirked before stepping back and lifting first one leg and then the other, settling the balls of each foot on his chest and he dried her calves and feet.

When he was satisfied, he pulled open the mirror and reached for her lotion and moisturizer. She closed her eyes and he traced his fingers gently over the planes of her face, taking care with her bruises. He rubbed in her moisturizer before opening her lotion and smoothing his hands over her chest. She shuddered when he worked the lather into her breasts, the spaces of his fingers catching on her nipples in a way that she wasn’t a hundred percent certain was accidental.

She opened her eyes when he withdrew and almost shouted when he lifted her from the counter and returned to the bedroom. She let him settle her on the bed as he pulled a new shirt, his, and new underwear, hers, from the dresser.

He took her breath away when he dropped to a knee before her and, not once breaking eye contact, slid her panties up her legs. She shifted so he could settle them over her hips. He hovered over her, his mouth a hair's breadth away from hers but denied her a kiss. “If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s working.” She whispered. He grinned before picking up the new t-shirt and sliding it over her head without ceremony. She laughed as she pulled her head through the neck and slid her arms through the sleeves.

Ivar grew serious as soon as she reappeared and she twisted around on the bed to face him. She let him examine her face, which she knew was a mess of cuts and bruises. “I’m fine, Ivar.” She said.

He met her eyes and gave her a sad smile. She leaned forward into his space. “You know, this whole time I’ve been awake, you haven’t kissed me.” Ivar tilted his head to the side, his smile growing playful. “Kiss me, husband.” She said, and Ivar was unable to do anything but obey.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue seeking entrance almost immediately. She moaned and pressed forward, deepening their kiss. Ivar groaned and pulled back, licking his lip. She grinned at him, blood on her teeth. Ivar growled and leaned forward, his hand settling at her throat and squeezing.

She groaned as Ivar tilted her head to the side and trailed kisses down the side of her throat. They left fire in their wake and Aaline sighed, settling her hands on Ivar’s forearms as he maneuvered her head whichever way he wanted.

She trailed her hands up his arms to his shoulders, tightening her fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt. “There’s something that I have to tell you.” Ivar hummed as he licked a line up the left side of her throat. She moaned when he nipped at the hinge of her jaw.

“I’ve been meaning to say it for awhile butー” She’s cut off as a whimper works its way past her lips when Ivar sucked a mark into her throat at the curve of her neck and shoulder. Ivar hummed and switched sides, trailing nipping kisses up the other side of her neck. She knew she’d have marks to show for his affections.

“What did you want to say?” He whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He traced the curve of it with his tongue before biting the lobe. She gasped and clutched tighter as his shoulders.

“I didn’t tell you before. I was afraid.” Ivar pulled back and met her eyes, his hands moving to cup her face. His thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. She blinked at him, her hands releasing his shirt and smoothing out the fabric.

“I love you.” She whispered, her voice trembling. Ivar hummed and stroked his thumb across her cheek. He leaned for and settled his forehead against hers.

“As I love you.” He responded. Aaline released a watery laugh before surging forward and kissing him. Ivar laughed and opened his mouth to her, letting her devour him. She sat up on her knees and pressed bodily against him. Ivar groaned and stroked his hands down her back, reveling in the feeling of his wife safe in his arms again.

Aaline giggled as Ivar’s hands smoothed up her back, taking her t-shirt with him on his way. She settled in his lap, relief flowing through her veins as her husband proceeded to make love to her.

@dreamlesswonder86 @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron-nightcourt @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx @revolution-starter @0hsappho @love-all-things-writing

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majesticwren · 1 year

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The Trickster’s Kiss ᚲ (Ivar/Angrboda/Hvitserk)

Summary: What if Angrboda, daughter of Floki and Helga, never died? She is gifted and cursed. She who walks the Earth guided and Inspired by the Trickster. Grown to become a gifted witch, a skilled warrior, a determined and loyal woman. She who takes guard over her loved one, her people and even the Gods. In her life made of choices, war, magic, and whispers, she is destined to always choose the side of a man she loves dearly, over her soulmate. As much as she would always choose Loki, over any other God. Behold! A tale about a War of heart, cultures and Gods. The events of this fanfic starts at S402 continuing to S602. It may contain flashbacks.

Words: 10k Trigger Warnings: Ivar is his own Trigger Warning, Mention of Sex, Mention of Rape, Mention of Murder, Violence. Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @miss-madness67 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged. ✨

Masterpost Playlist

Chapter 14 - The Feast.

Summer finally came.

The warmth of its Sun burst all over Norway.

The cities and villages all over the country were filled with flowers décors, feasts and celebrations.

The forest's landscape changed. Their evergreen gloomy look, with its deep shades of greens and browns, now bloomed with warm and bright colours given by new flowers and mushrooms. The always humid air carrying its heavy earthy scent was now accompanied by the cheerful chirping birds that populated the area.

It seemed as if everyone welcomed the arrival of the season.

The fairies sang new songs from faraway places, and the wind carried the smell and echoes of numerous festivals.

With the arrival of the season, together with its fruits and crops, something else ripened: Bjorn’s fleet.

Floki worked restlessly on his ships, to finish them on time as he predicted. Helga and Angrboda both helped throughout the entire month it has passed.

And they were finally ready.

Their sails were coloured in warm shades of yellows and oranges, following the colour pattern that the shields of Bjorn’s men would have added to the sides of the ships. Some sails showed runes on them and every longship keel had protection and fortune runes carved into them.

Their dragons watched over the fjord proudly, and over them stood the tallest dragon of the leading longship, made by worked iron and wood; it was an intricate piece of art. Its sail had painted a meaningful opened eye thirsty for discovery. It was an ode to Bjorn, so he may lead his men to great fortunes guiding them towards the Mediterranean Sea.

Helga and Angrboda worked on replenishing the ships with barrels of fresh water, extra ropes and cloths and rags, and empty boxes or bags that would have been filled up by provisions on a large scale just in Kattegat, before leaving.

But they also got their spot ready on the head-ship, loading it with a bag filled with several healing herbs, ingredients and clean bandages, with Floki and Angrboda’s weapons ready for battle, and with a few spare clothes and some food.

Word was sent to both Bjorn in Kattegat and King Harald in Tamdrup.

Because if the ships were finally ready, then it meant for them it was time to leave.

As hard as they would work on the ships, as much work was put into Angrboda’s training.

Most of it was based on lots of meditation and making her anger surface, to create a controlled crisis, and make her calm her own soul down.

But Floki also focused on Angrboda's power of sight.

There weren't any notions she didn’t know already about how to read the runes, but they still used them to interpret signs, dreams, and visions. Or to get them. And she learned then that sometimes, even for a connection or a vision, a sacrifice was needed – a toll in blood, to have clearer signs.

Angrboda found herself stacking stones and reading runes all over again, as she did when she was a child. Only, this time it all had such different meaning and purpose. It wasn’t a game anymore, but harvesting her mind.

At the beginning of their training, it was hard. The first few days, Angrboda felt like she was losing ground on the minimum control she thought she had on her abilities. Pressuring her powers to surface, either visions or whatever it was that Floki called Death-Bringer, discombobulated her entire being and it was mostly painful.

It was like there was a wall inside of her, trapping everything in. Behind which her darkness and some abilities would mostly hide. There was a whole side to her being and nature that Angrboda herself was blind to. To discover it, she had to tear that wall down.

It was a real fight. A siege happening right inside of her. It was her fighting against herself.

But slowly throughout the weeks, it became easier for some aspects. While some remained hidden away.

Floki would not neglect Angrboda’s need for combat training either. It was during one of their fights, that Floki realised losing grip on his axe handle, or suddenly missing a step, wasn’t natural, but commanded.

So, Angrboda found a new ability she never knew she had – she could yield the luck of someone in restricted situations.

She knew she could have some sort of control over the luck of a restricted and very quick situation. It couldn’t be something planned. In that case, it wouldn’t work. So, even saying she had control, was not entirely correct – because she didn’t know the entire situation. But if the moment was right and favourable, then she was able to make someone trip and fall, or lose their weapon, or anything they carried. But that particular ability was probably the most feeble one she possessed. Impossible to predict or control, therefore not to be completely trusted.

Floki and she trained day and night, every time they weren’t working at the ships. But as much as her father wanted to push her to see how far she could go, there were still limits Angrboda wasn’t able to break.

And then there was something Angrboda trained on her own. Her connection with Ivar.

She still wouldn’t accept things changing. But her bond with Ivar changed. Yet Angrboda had no problem considering that same bond she was so opposed to, as if it was something that now defined her.

Runes and meditation were not enough, sometimes, to channel their bond. But when they worked, she managed to have clearer synchronisation with Ivar’s aura.

Sometimes, she wasn’t able to control the spikes of extraneous emotion she felt, much less she was able to completely understand them. It happened only once. One of Ivar’s violent waves of rage was so deep and consuming to let her hear his wrath shout as if he was in front of her and not miles and miles away.

That feeling was enough to shake Angrboda to her core, to the point time and space wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Ivar’s pain. She didn’t even know what caused it precisely, and it didn’t matter.

That time, instead of perceiving the world through Ivar’s eyes, like a latent force hiding inside of him spying the world he saw, as it generally worked when she managed to link to him, Angrboda was instead projected into his world, next to him.

The scene around him was chaotic and faded – she knew she was at the Hall, she recognized its smell and knew just because Ivar knew, but wasn’t sure who else was there, she was clearly connected just to him and felt every aspect of his furious desperation.

At that moment, even if it was just a second, Angrboda didn’t accept the fact that her powers showed once more to be growing. She didn’t want to see that scene from the outside, being connected yet separated from Ivar. She wanted to crawl back inside of his chest and surround him, to protect him from his sorrows.

Because his fury, as violent and scary as it could be, exploded as a protection mechanism. It was his loneliness, the usual pain of existence, and the constant being aware or reminded to be different, that quickly moulded into pride, and as soon as his pride was hurt, it caught fire. Just then Ivar could truly become destructive.

The night this episode happened, their connection was strong. The strongest it has ever been throughout their entire life. Yet at the same time feeble and volatile, and it did last no longer than a few seconds.

Which, then, was mostly what Angrboda tried and focus on. More than its depth, its focus and duration.

Her connection with Ivar didn’t disappear day by day, as she naively imagined it would do at the beginning. So, she studied it.

Angrboda imagined there would have been a reason why it happened. Surely, there was a reason for that bond with Ivar, even if she could not quite imagine it yet.

She took time to wonder, though, whether or not would every man she welcomed in her bed bond to her soul that way?

That theory was soon to be dropped. It didn’t happen with Hvitserk. Not to that degree.

But with Hvitserk she had a completely different type of connection. She wouldn’t feel what he felt unless she was close to him. But even if she was so distant from him, she felt his light. She knew where he was. Always.

It worked and felt the same way it would to look up in the sky and look for one’s favourite star or constellation. She knew where to look, she expected to find that light, and she felt better knowing it shined bright. She needed just to look up, through the landscapes, forests, mountains and bodies of water, and Hvitserk’s light would be there.

But Angrboda had that bond with him since they were kids, it didn’t develop with sex.

Angrboda’s theories on why such a deep soul-tying connection with Ivar could have happened were vast and numerous. But also easily debunked.

Throughout that entire month, the Gods were extremely quiet. Angrboda never felt anything. Not even the howling of wolves carried by the wind.

She expected to feel Loki in some kind of way. And she expected the God’s anger regarding her closeness with Ivar. But that didn’t happen, and Angrboda doubted it was because the God could have been blind to it. Possibly, it could be because he chose to spare her.

Though, the space the Gods left her didn’t make her feel lonely or lost, but enough to be able to breathe.

Now, Angrboda sat on the step of the porch just outside her house, in the centre of Kattegat.

Her eyes gently caressed the roofs of the nearby houses and the street passing by.

Kattegat was animated by a buzz of energy and warmth, it hummed and glowed. Music could be heard everywhere, and jolly chattering accompanied it, mixed with the smell of flowers that decorated the city and the smell of various cooked foods carried by the wind.

The smell of charcoal and roasted meats mixed with the sweeter smell of dried up candied fruit.

Everyone was ready to participate in the celebrations in order to honour Bjorn Ironside fleet and his journey.

How many times before she already saw a similar scenario? How many times did Kattegat buzz and glow like that?

Yet, it felt different. The ground she walked on felt different, as the air she breathed did.

She felt different.

Angrboda patiently waited for her parents to join her, so they could reach for the Main Hall, which would harbour a great feast that night.

She wasn’t sure if she liked living in the city more than the cabin. But she still had to admit she missed it.

Even though being suddenly surrounded by so many people was a bit overwhelming after weeks alone with just Floki, Helga and Ragnar, when he visited to spend the night. She still managed to keep a good grip over her control.

After the word was sent to Bjorn and Kind Harald, it became a matter of time before Harald’s ships flocked into the fjord, heading towards Kattegat. When the two fleets merged then the King’s men helped Floki take the boats back to Kattegat.

After their great arrival at the port, immediately the preparations for the journey began. Everyone knew it was just a matter of days.

“Are you ready?” Floki’s voice squeaked with a giggle, distracting Angrboda from all the thoughts and mind-travelling.

She quickly turned over to him and was welcomed with a smile. Floki just looked at her for a moment, his head tipped to the side. Then, he pulled his hand in front of her. “It will be ok.”

“I know it will.”

He didn’t respond but with a smile and waited for her to grab his hand so to give her a pull-up, helping her to get up.

Of course, there was no need for any explanation. Angrboda knew Floki felt her sharp anxiety.

Truth was that more than finding herself between so many people for the first time in weeks, and more than the idea that the next day they would have left the life they always knew to that point, to reach for new, exciting and unknown adventures – Angrboda was shaken to the core by the idea she would have found herself in the same room with Hvitserk and Ivar after so long and after everything that had happened.

Angrboda ran her hands through the folds of the skirt of the dress she was wearing, making an exception to her usual dressing code for that evening.

For once, Angrboda accepted the idea of being more feminine. She borrowed one of her mother's dresses. A green one, which Helga praised to be a good colour to go with her hair.

Helga soon joined them, hopping out of the house buzzing with such warm energy, clearly looking forward to celebrating at the feast and to their travels.

"We should go, then." Announced Floki looking at his wife, who answered him with a tiny smirk. "Almost ready, dear." Helga moved towards Angrboda, pulling from behind her back a thin floral crown. A giggle left her chest, while she proudly waited for her daughter's reaction, seeing her gift.

Angrboda eyes widened while she looked at it, with its soft lilac bellflowers, yellow daisies and blue liverworts. A genuine, huge smile appeared on her face. "Mother! You didn't have to!" Angrboda squeaked, shaking her head.

Helga shook her words off with a nod, stepping closer.

"There." She placed the crown on top of Angrboda's head and then just stood there for a second, looking at her, sided by Floki. From both her parents’ look Angrboda received such pride and love, to flood her heart completely.

Angrboda smiled and leaned closer to Helga, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, mother."

"We must show everyone who's the prettiest girl!"

Angrboda just smiled lazing greatly in the idea that night was special yet simple and common.

Generally, she would take pride in her strength more than her looks. She wanted to be known as a warrior, she wanted to die honourably in battle, holding her axe. She wanted her name to be renowned among their people, thirsty for fame and conquering as every young Viking.

But that day she was just a girl like any other, about to participate to a feast and celebrate among friends and her people. And she liked that idea.

So, she decided she was entitled to feeling pretty. She even found herself wondering about the possibility of catching others' attention – just for pure vanity.

Floki, Helga and Angrboda followed a group of people up the road, reaching for the Hall. Angrboda walked behind her parents, enjoying listening and observing everything that surrounded her.

Kattegat at dusk was overflowing with the orange light of the many fires lit all around the city, mirroring the spectacle of the sky.

The same energy that hummed throughout Kattegat and its people, buzzed through Angrboda, crawling under her skin.

Feasts and festivals weren’t new, and those weren’t her first celebrations, of course. Yet it was the load of great expectations everyone had, that she herself had, about setting sails and leaving towards the unknown, that made it different.

Many other people were crowding the Hall already. The air smelled of redwood, furs, ale and roasted boar, and it was soaked in bright emotions.

For once, Angrboda didn't dislike the idea of participating in such a big event, being surrounded by such a big crowd.

At the door together with the guards, stood tall and proud Ubbe, who seemed to be busy welcoming a few guests.

As soon as Angrboda saw him, she immediately bolted towards the Ragnarsson.

“Ubbe!” She shouted, tackling him in a tight hug.

Ubbe took a second to react, and embraced her in a brotherly hug, welcoming her with a laugh.

Angrboda took a deep breath, inhaling his aura.

She had to admit she missed him.

She missed all of them – even Sigurd. For different reasons, of course. But the Ragnarssons were still part of her, like family.

Angrboda moved away and met Ubbe’s inspecting look that crossed her figure. “I was almost expecting to find you taller, or older-” Ubbe’s attention got caught by something else, and before Angrboda could say anything, he moved, raising his hands and fixing her crown of flowers – which moved to the side while they hugged. “-Better.” Ubbe stated with a wise nod, then offered her a smile.

Angrboda gave him a playful push, shaking her head. “Your jokes are not funny!”

“Oh – they are really funny.” Ubbe’s words were paired with a smart smirk.

Floki and Helga joined them and to both Ubbe directed a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Ubbe.” Her father's voice danced in those words, synchronized with the movements of his head and shoulders.

“Floki! Helga! Welcome, please enter, have a drink and enjoy.”

Floki smiled and just nodded towards Ubbe, indulging in following his invitation. Helga was right behind him but exchanged one last look with Angrboda before entering the Hall.

Angrboda was ready to do the same, but Ubbe caught her attention. “Hold on a second.”

“What is it?”

“You owe me a talk. I haven’t forgotten.”

It suddenly dawned on her, the weight of his words.

He wasn’t wrong. She remembered from the last time they saw each other. Yet Angrboda hoped that maybe Ubbe could have let it go, since so much time passed by.

But he clearly didn’t.

The last thing she wanted to do now was having to defend her pride, integrity, and the decisions she took.

But mostly, having to explain to Ubbe what went on a month earlier, was something that would have inevitably brought memories and feelings back. Feelings she was trying desperately to ignore and drown.

Angrboda huffed and her body seemed to sag on itself while all her energies suddenly left her and sunk through the ground. “Do we have to? Now?”

“I’m afraid so, little-one.”

Angrboda sent a meaningful look to the Hall doors and another sight left her lips.

The idea of having to delay her entrance felt heavy on her chest – she knew Hvitserk was inside, same for Ivar. And she wanted to see them.

“Can we have this conversation in a few minutes? I haven’t even seen the room!”

“Last time that you said later, you disappeared for a month. So, I would rather not.”

“I didn’t disappear to avoid you.” Angrboda lowered her eyes, muttering those words that had serious meaning, in the same way, a child would complain about eating onions.

She huffed once more and shaking the slight annoyance off, she nodded towards Ubbe. “Ok, let’s do this.”

With another nod, Angrboda moved away from the main entrance, imagining Ubbe would follow her.

The situation with all the other brothers was compromised now, in a way or the other. The only one she could consider a friend truly was Ubbe. And she didn’t like the idea that some kind of tension could arise between them too.

“So?” Angrboda turned suddenly towards him, raising her green eyes and proud chin.

She didn’t need to feel his aura to know that he had everyone best interests in mind. She knew he acted out of care and that his concerns were dictated by his honest heart – to be honest, he wasn’t even so wrong having certain doubts.

She knew and accepted it. Yet, she didn’t like the idea of having to justify her decisions.

“So, what’s going on?”

“What do you want to know, specifically.”

“Well, first of all – we didn’t expect you to disappear.”

“I didn’t. I was just at the cabin, helping my father with the ships.”

“You weren’t here. Not even once you visited.”

“I could say the same for you, but I’m not accusing anybody, am I?” Angrboda bit her tongue and forced her words to slow down, releasing her frustration in a sigh, instead of more, unnecessary venom.

“You just left. You left my brother on his own waiting for us to go and pick him up.” Ubbe’s blue eyes seemed to catch fire. Again, she didn’t need to feel his annoyance to know he clearly didn’t approve of her move.

And she agreed.

But waking up that morning and having to separate from Ivar to go back to their regular lives and to who they were before was painful enough. And every second she spent in that hut with sudden frost falling between Ivar and her was agony. It broke her heart and sunk her in melancholy. Every second made her wish to crawl back into bed with Ivar just to be skin to skin with him and see his true self.

“I left. I left him. I know.”

All her thoughts were supposed to become words. Then maybe, they would have been a good enough explanation, something Ubbe would have appreciated. But they didn’t leave her lips.

Though as she lowered her eyes the sudden spike of pain and melancholy that hit her was clear.

Even if she was not proud of it and she wished to hide it away, feeling too protective of her feelings towards Ivar to show them to anyone, she did raise her eyes letting Ubbe see her face. Hoping he would get a glimpse of what she felt.

Ubbe looked at her for a long couple of seconds and then, his icy blue eyes seem to become calmer.

He sighed and then moved towards her.

Angrboda felt his aura welcome and absorb the pain she showed to a degree she wasn’t even aware of. And she felt his emotions crack and move. His concern shifted towards her.

Ubbe moved, raising a hand to her face and scooped her cheek up into his palm, giving her a meaningful look. “What is going on, Angrboda? You have to tell me. I don’t understand. I’m trying- I tried.”

Angrboda just rested against his hold and reacted just with a sigh of relief while Ubbe quickly kept talking.

“Ivar won’t talk about what happened between you two. Not even to praise it. Which is weird, we all know him. And I thought you cared for Hvitserk. I know you two had some kind of unresolved business, but, I always thought-”

“I care.” Angrboda's eyes sparkled with sudden decision. “You know I care.”

“I don’t know anymore. Then why? If you care-”

“Because I care for Ivar too. And me and Hvitserk- We cannot happen. Don’t question me, just trust me on this one.”

“He loves you. You know that, yes?”

Angrboda lowered her eyes once more and this time, she looked for distance from Ubbe. She moved away, crossing her arms to her chest, more in a hug to her own figure than a defensive position. “Of course, I know.”

“You owe him an explanation.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t know you at all, lately?”

Angrboda turned over to him, shaking her head. Her eyes burned with all the emotions she wasn’t allowed to speak of – yet were there. Always. “Knowing. Feeling Hvitserk’s love rips me off from the inside. More than his pain. Don’t lecture me about what I have to do because I very well know what I should do – and what I’m allowed to do. Which are two different things. I cannot speak of everything that is happening, Ubbe. But I have my reasons and Hvitserk is better off without me.”

As soon as she started hinting about those things she wasn’t allowed to speak about, Angrboda felt her throat tingle in an increasingly more nagging ailment, but she pushed her words, mixed with her decision and anger, through vehemently.

She wanted Ubbe to understand that her situation wasn’t so easily judged as it appeared. As himself was quick to jump to the wrong conclusions.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“Yes, well- And the truth about Ivar is simple: he asked me to lay with him, because he wanted to be with a woman, to be like all of you guys. I felt honoured to do so. And I thought it would break Hvitserk’s heart enough to finally separate us. Simple as that. Ivar knows my reasons and knows his own reasons-" she looked at Ubbe, glaring into his blue eyes. Truth sparkled through her irises. "-what happened throughout the night it’s no one else’s business. But you need to understand, I care for Ivar deeply. We used each other – and still care for one another. That’s all.”

“Is it so?”

“Yes.”

“Well. You definitely broke Hvitserk’s heart. But I’m not sure he will ever stop loving you.” Finally, the glimpse of a smile appeared on Ubbe’s lips and quickly spread through to Angrboda. She smirked back, knowing Ubbe was not joking or taking his words any less seriously, yet welcoming that break of tension.

Especially when she perfectly knew Ubbe spoke the truth.

How could it be any different? She was Hvitserk’s soulmate. And he hers. What they felt for each other would have never died. But that was ok, they just needed to quiet it down enough to be able to ignore it.

“Now, I’ve been meaning to ask how you are, but you are particularly elusive – and I cannot even say I’m surprised about it. Be it on purpose or not, I’m glad you are here.”

“I am ok, thank you. As much as I can be. And I am happy to be here too. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s been difficult, lately, trying to keep everyone at peace.”

“Why?”

Ubbe took a deep breath and looked away. A sudden wave of awkwardness surrounded him and it seemed clear he didn’t want to have that conversation.

“Ubbe.” Angrboda called him back, moving to bring his eyes back, focusing on her. “What happened?”

“The tension between Sigurd and Ivar is getting heavier and heavier by the day. They cannot be left in the same room or they will bite each other heads off.”

“Oh-”

“And-” Ubbe paused and then released a deep huff looking away once more if his emotions weren’t clear enough, his distress was noticeable enough by the stiffness of his neck and shoulders.

“Ubbe?”

“There’s been rumours going around, lately. People are talking, a lot – and it doesn’t help anyone.”

“I’ve been out of town. What are they saying then?”

“It got worse, Angrboda. All the chattering about you and your character and involvement with us. It got worse. People think you’re up to no-good now more than ever. In fact, I think it will be better if you sit around us later.”

Angrboda shook her head and shrugged, scoffing a laugh. “Don’t you think that would make it worse, actually?”

“Yes. And no, because we can keep an eye out for you. Me and Hvitserk, that is, of course. So, I don’t care what they think but I rather have you safe.”

“I don’t need guards, Ubbe. I am fine.”

“Yes, I think you do. Listen to me and swallow your pride for once. Either be with us or stay next to your father – but keep your eyes open.”

“Do you think people would actually-”

“I think you stand in a dangerous position. Especially tonight. You will leave tomorrow – and you will have your chance to prove your worth, I am sure. But for now, people do not respect you enough.”

Angrboda frowned and felt suddenly dizzy, not entirely able to understand the degree Ubbe’s words had.

She knew people didn’t like her. And she knew sometimes she wasn’t safe to be on her own. But to a public event, so celebrative like a feast. Not being safe then meant that public opinion really got worse and worse.

Why she didn’t feel anything about it? Why the whispers didn’t suggest anything to her ear?

Did the Gods send Ubbe to talk to her specifically?

“And there’s more-”

“What else?”

“Voice got out – of your relationship with Hvitserk. And with Ivar. It’s- I don’t know how – but it’s now out there, and it’s backlashing on you. People are more convinced than ever you’re manipulating us.”

“Oh-oh, no. How did it happen?! No one knew! But a few-”

“If I have to take a wild guess…” Ubbe sent her a meaningful look and Angrboda didn’t need him to say anything to understand clearly where his thoughts went.

Sigurd.

Why was he on such a strong crusade against her?

She knew he didn’t like her but to get to such a point?

“I know these rumours are stupid – most of us know. But there’s not much we can do and you weren’t around to vouch for yourself. It got out of hand.”

“You should have said something sooner! You-”

“What could we have done? I think it was actually better that you stayed away. I think it would have become unbearable if you were around. Some people with still a crumb of brain in their heads actually noticed your absence, and that’s why some do recognise the rumours as nothing more.”

“Why do I feel like there’s something more?”

“Because there is-”

Angrboda just waited – thinking that if she had to digest her feelings, and come to terms with the idea she could get lynched any second now, might as well be hit by whatever else lurked for her.

“I will say it now and I will say it once, ok? I expect you to behave, after what I have to say. I want you to keep it quiet, and if you have to sort any situation, do it privately. Not because I wouldn’t back you up – but because this evening is important to us. There are Kings and emissaries at the Hall, we cannot-”

“Yes, I understand, stop patronizing me. What else has happened?”

“If you do care for Ivar, as you said, then you should speak to him.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Ivar?”

Ubbe sighed. He felt so uncomfortable with the idea of talking forward, that the feeling crawled under her skin so deeply to give her a shiver.

Angrboda could almost feel how many times he bit his tongue before explaining.

“Just speak to him, later on.”

The feast proceeded between music, ale, food and laughter.

Every guest seemed to be enjoying their time and throughout the night both people from Tamdrup and Kattegat mixed together as one in loud chattering and general celebration.

Even Angrboda, despite everything, managed to have some fun.

She did as Ubbe suggested: she swallowed her pride and occupied a seat next to him and Hvitserk, accepting their protection.

In the beginning, the whole situation felt awkward and she felt extremely uncomfortable under her own skin. Especially sitting next to Hvitserk.

For obvious reasons, it felt like a heavy winter fell between them – but with Ubbe’s help and some ale aid, soon Hvitserk’s spirit melted enough to push their awkward sorrows aside. And they had fun, cracking jokes and exchanging stories, people watching, even dancing at some point.

It was nice. She actually managed to forget who she was, deceiving herself to an apparent fraction of reality as a normal person.

Angrboda did her best to ignore Sigurd’s presence or every emotion coming from his aura. Even if it was hard.

But she wouldn’t have left her safe spot between the two older brothers, just because Sigurd made the air uneasy and difficult to breathe in. Mostly, she didn’t accept the idea to let him think he won something.

She couldn’t understand why he kept fighting as much as he was doing, stuffing all his anger, all his hate in the wrong things.

Actually, she could. She knew exactly why he felt that way, but deeply disapproved. It was getting worse, and it was jeopardizing her. It wasn’t a hateful joke or venomous words, it wasn’t receiving a push or just a bit of bullying, it was endangering and hurting people.

And Kattegat was her home. One day, she would come back to it, hopefully with glory on her shoulders, enough so people would forget she was a witch. But if her situation got as much out of hand as Ubbe said, then Sigurd is to hold responsible for making her life ten times harder now.

Kattegat was her home, but would it accept her?

It wasn’t fair.

Angrboda did a very good job in pushing those thoughts aside and pulling a brave face, though.

Throughout the night, she kept as far away as possible from Floki, not intentioned in worrying her father furthermore. She decided he and Helga were entitled to have a night of fun.

But there was someone else she didn’t dare to step close to. Ivar.

He sat at the head of the main table and observed everything and everyone. Every now and then, Angrboda looked over, just to follow his stirred seas eyes around the room to see what he was watching.

She felt his mind moving, his brain absorbing, she knew he was studying everyone. Especially the most important people in the room, besides the Queen’s family and Bjorn and his wife Torvi, those were King Harald and his brother Halfdan the Black.

If Ivar’s aura wasn’t strongly connected to hers enough to stroke it constantly even from such a distance, she just needed to look at him to spot the dark shadow surrounding his aura, shaping and shifting around Ivar at every thought and change of emotion.

Their eyes crossed a few times, and every time she felt Ivar’s emotions spiked in such despite and deep offence.

Ubbe did warn her and he definitely wasn’t wrong. Something happened and she needed to talk to Ivar. Especially knowing she needed to leave him so soon, and for good.

No way she would have let those be the last feelings he felt for her.

Not after what they had. Not when the absolute devotion and love he had for her the night they shared still burned into her mind and chest.

The only reason why Angrboda had yet to approach the younger Ragnarsson was because of his mother.

Aslaug sat next to him and spent the night chatting away with his son, behaving more like a guardian than anything else.

If Aslaug always had affection and respect for Angrboda throughout the years, now those feelings were definitely gone. And Angrboda could not say she wouldn’t understand after the rumours about her came out.

She knew that Aslaug would have never judged her regarding being gifted, being a gifted woman herself. But she knew she would have definitely judged her harshly for sleeping with two of her sons, especially when one of them was Ivar.

She just wished she had more time to solve all the misunderstandings that had been dawning upon her, at least with people that were the closest to her.

But she didn’t.

And then finally, the right moment she has been waiting for presented itself.

As soon as Aslaug left her seat, Angrboda knew it was her chance.

She sent a look over to the head of the table, finding Ivar waiting for her eyes.

He widened his shoulders and raised his head proudly. His eyes sparkled crossing hers and his lips arched in a grim smirk.

His expression gave her a shiver. There was something in his way of always being a step ahead of everyone. And of course, he knew already she wouldn’t have ignored him. It was clear he was expecting her to do the first move and didn’t have any intention to chase her.

Angrboda moved slightly towards Ubbe. Just placing a hand on his shoulder, she called his attention but didn’t say a word before getting up.

There was not much to be explained anyway, but she thought to give him heads-up, so then he could happily keep an eye out for her, as he felt comfortable doing the whole evening.

She exchanged a brief look with Hvitserk before moving away.

As she did for most of the evening - and with most of the people surrounding her – Angrboda did her best to push his aura away from her, much preferring not to be influenced and overwhelmed by everything Hvitserk felt at all times. Especially for her, especially if it was to see her leaving his side to reach for Ivar's.

She walked slowly, not to attract particular attention to herself. Ivar’s eyes accompanied her the whole way, with his confident smirk carving deeper and deeper into his expression.

The closer she got, the more his darkness seemed to react to her. She felt his shadows move and mix to hers both from the inside and out, accompanied by the sparkles of the fairies that surrounded everyone that evening.

“I need to talk to you.” She announced finally, once she stood in front of him.

Ivar lifted his head and leaned comfortably against the back of the chair, offering her a smart smile. Just after a second of studying her image, caressing her figure from head to toe with his grey eyes, Ivar finally nodded towards her. “Be my guest, Loki-Kissed.”

Angrboda felt a shiver crossing her back hearing her given name rolling on his tongue.

She breathed in his emotions, feeling his bitterness towards her, but also the disappointment, frustration and pain that hid underneath his cockiness. There was a great deal of pride and a hint of anger hiding his cracked heart.

Angrboda shrugged, shaking her head. “Privately, if you may.”

“No. I may not. You can tell me anything you want right here, no?” Ivar accompanied his words widening his arms, clearly hinting to the crowded room that surrounded him.

The fact that he was so stubborn and proudly playing hard to catch was enough to fill Angrboda with enough frustration to make her grumble, raising her eyes to the ceiling. She even had to tone her reaction down, remembering Ubbe’s words.

“Ivar.”

“Yes, Angrboda?” Ivar’s eyes sparkled. He was clearly feeding off his ego, annoying her, and she just needed to know him to know it. Her empathic abilities were unnecessary when it came to understanding Ivar.

She knew she didn’t have much time, as much as she knew that Ivar’s curiosity would have given her what she wanted, sooner or later.

Of course, she rathered sooner.

“Please? I really do need to talk to you.”

“Now? Now, you want to talk? You picked an inconvenient situation, you see? Unfortunately, I’m enjoying the feast and I rather assist to the happenings around me. Especially when my mother just went to welcome the arrival of none other but Lagertha. Actually, you could be useful to me. Why don’t you syntonise on them and tell me what they are feeling? Especially Lagertha, I am curious.”

Angrboda raised her eyes to the ceiling once more. This time, she remained in that position for a few seconds, pushing her eager anger down and trying to focus to stay calm.

She didn’t know Lagertha would attend the feast but should have expected it since her son Bjorn was the one leading the expedition.

Part of her wanted to meet her – as much as she wanted to meet King Harald and his brother. Just to know all the important people roaming the Hall. But Angrboda had priorities at the moment and Lagertha could have come later.

Angrboda gazed back at Ivar. Besides his words, he didn’t seem much interested in what was going on between his mother and Lagertha, since he didn’t take his eyes off her once. Which was a strong hint of how much attention he was still giving her, even if he was as stubborn as a mule.

Angrboda moved closer to him, her eyes met his, burning with the same degree of determination. “Right. We need to talk, so feel free to follow me. I will be waiting for a short amount of time. If you won’t, then whatever is your problem with me then it will be on you, don’t hold me responsible for whatever reason you’re being an asshole.”

Angrboda felt the shot of anger spike through his aura and hit inside her chest – and ignored it completely.

In that specific case, anger was good. Anger would have got Ivar to move. He would have never missed an occasion when challenged.

Which was the reason why, while she moved turning around the table, a tiny smile of victory appeared on her lips.

Angrboda didn’t look back to check if Ivar was actually following her, she walked towards the back of the Hall, to the private quarters where the Queen’s room could be found.

Once she left the main room filled with music, loud chattering and the dense smell of ale, food and people, Angrboda took a deep breath, filling her lungs up with the energy of that way quieter and darker place.

She stood in the middle of the room, with her arms crossed to her chest and her back to the door.

If Ivar followed her, she actually didn’t mind being a bit dramatic, just imitating his ways and giving him back a bit of what he deserves after his little scene at the table.

And if he decided not to follow her, then at least she wouldn’t have waited desperately looking at the door and hoping in vain, keeping a bit of dignity. Plus an unwanted, not required broken heart.

After a few moments though, she heard the familiar heavy dragging noise of Ivar crawling on the floor.

Angrboda could not deny the relief that completely surrounded her and actually welcomed it with a smile, that she made sure to hide though. She had absolutely no intention to give Ivar any satisfaction whatsoever.

She didn’t know what happened and why he felt the way he did. But absolutely hated the idea that despite growing years of friendship – let alone all the rest - he could turn against her like that. Angrboda wanted a confrontation to understand what happened but wasn’t about to go at it peacefully.

Pushing her expression into a serious mask, Angrboda turned over, gazing over towards Ivar.

His eyes sparkled in the darker room, lit just by the flicker of a few candles.

“What is going on?” She finally asked after a few seconds of them just proudly looking at each other.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Get out my head.” Ivar shook his hand mid-air, as if he could flap her empathy away.

Not that she needed her abilities to understand how differently Ivar was behaving with her now, compared to the last time.

Angrboda huffed, letting her arms fall along her sides. “Sorry, can’t control it.”

Ivar just slid his eyes across the room, clearly annoyed and then moved, looking for a place to take a sit and gain some higher ground from where to have that conversation.

He climbed his way up a solid wood trunk and found a sit. Angrboda gave him time, and just when he turned overcrossing her eyes, she took a step closer. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I said nothing. We went back to our regular lives. Wasn’t that the plan?”

His words hit her like thin, sharp blades.

“This is not our regular life. You never looked at me the way you do now.”

“How am I supposed to look at you?”

“At least like a friend, not like someone you would happily move out your way.”

“I’m not the boy you knew anymore.”

Another deep stab right through her chest.

The boy she knew and the man she knew he would become were wearing the same skin, having the same strength, the same determination and brilliant mind – and the same darkness, but also the same promise of sweetness to them.

She saw it. She felt it. The boy who let her slip through the cracks and see his fragile, loving side, would be the same man who would let her in in future times.

She knew he was just using his usual tactic of being extremely unpleasant to push people away.

“You wanted this-" he spat moving his hands mid-air, "-you wanted us to go back to what we were, what we had always been. Which is nothing – so, why do you want to be friends all of a sudden?”

“We were friends!”

“How much will it matter when you will leave, tomorrow?”

“Is that it?! Are you angry at me because I’m leaving?”

“Well, I didn’t even know you would. If we were such good friends, what a piece of information to keep tucked away, huh? I found out through Hvitserk.”

“My father was building Bjorn’s ships. I thought-”

“It would be obvious? Well, I would have still appreciated it if you told me. But, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving, I am leaving soon too, and maybe we won’t ever see each other again, so what does it matter if we are friends?”

Angrboda was ready to whip a salty answer. With her annoyance, her anger was waking up, and with her anger, her darkness was always next to start stretching and to grow seeping through her.

But Ivar’s words distracted her – more than the core of their argument. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I am leaving. With my father. To go to England.” Ivar tipped his head on the side and offered a cold, proud smile.

For a moment, Angrboda forgot their quarrel, which seemed stupid compared to the fact he was going to embrace his Viking inheritance and leave for the adventure.

It was something great, something Ivar trained for his entire life, even if people always doubt he would be able to do so.

Angrboda moved closer and offered him an honest smile that Ivar didn’t seem ready for, to which he reacted freezing and trying to find a bit of distance from her.

“I am glad you’re going. It’s good news!”

“Don’t do that.” Ivar broke their eye contact, looking away. His face froze into a serious, almost disgusted face.

Inside her chest, Angrboda felt his heartbeat at the same rhythm of his pride, a pulsating wave that resonated into his aura, growing darker and darker by the second.

“Do what?”

“Patronize and cuddle me. Do not treat me as a kid. Did any other man got praised for being called to raid?”

“Ivar, I –”

“You what?!” Ivar shot her a look, his stirred seas eyes burned through her, to the point Angrboda felt pushed to take a step back.

“Why are you being like this? Why are you fighting me?”

“You are truly something, aren’t you? Maybe the people are right. Maybe Sigurd is right, you’re so good at manipulating all of us with your pretty face that we never realised how slimy you can be.”

“Hold on. What did you just say?”

Ivar’s poisonous words hit her but her pain quickly burned, shaping itself into anger. Angrboda felt the familiar buzzing of her darkness waking and growing inside of her, like smoke filling the air.

“You heard me well.”

“I wished you could hear yourself.”

“No, I wish you could hear yourself! You’re so full of yourself and truly a hypocrite. So good at lying you fooled even me. But I see it now.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“The way you talk to me. The way you look at me. Everything you do. You’re like anyone else. Like my mother. Acting out of pity.”

“Pity?!” Angrboda spitted that word like it was venom, frowning and reserving an intense look to Ivar. Not realising her eyes were turning darker now.

The more he spoke, the more he hurt her. And the more Angrboda was hurt, the more her darkness would grow.

“I bet that is why you wanted to talk to me before you would leave. Poor, little Ivar left all alone. I bet it is also why you actually went all the way with me that night – because of pity. Poor me, huh? You must have thought it would have been my only chance with a woman. Damn, you acted so well you fooled me.” Ivar started clapping his hands, as if there was actually something to praise, but the rain of his toxic words didn’t stop there. “-And I bet that’s why you hid up in the forest – could not stand the sight of me. Must be tough.”

At every sentence, Angrboda became visibly less and less stable and it seemed like the more she shook and stiffened to his words, the more he felt entitled to continue. And a bigger, darker smile would grow on his lips.

But when Ivar touched the matter of them being together, that particularly set her off.

She really wanted to find a way to answer to him calmly, having the upper hand. She would have been able to do so if the matter wouldn’t have touched something she considered so personal.

The night she shared with Ivar changed her, and everything around her. And maybe she wasn’t ready to accept how deeply connected she was to him and how deeply she cared. But she did. It was a precious moment that she would have never diminished but praised upon.

Angrboda moved quickly towards him and broke his words from piling up any further with an abrupt slap on the face.

She trained hard to contain similar situations where her emotions would take over. But it seemed impossible to bite her tongue or breathe through Ivar’s assumptions. “Shut your mouth. You’re just a boy if you think so little of me. And worse, if after everything and all the years we’ve known each other, you are so easily influenced. I never felt pity for you. I respect you, and my affection towards you is dictated by heart, not guilt.”

Ivar was quick to gaze back at her, moving his torso and head closer to her, ready for a fight. “I don’t believe you.”

“That is entirely on you-” Angrboda pointed a finger to Ivar's chest, giving him a push. “-and I wasn’t lying when we had sex. Everything I felt, everything you felt, was real to me. So, I will never regret it. But you can choose your own truth.”

Ivar just sat there silent.

Angrboda saw and felt his emotions tremble and crack. She felt his disappointment and pain pour out of his chest, surrounded by guilt, pride, and anger.

Even if she had all the answers she needed in front of her, and knew Ivar so well even without having to read him, she decided to ignore the knowledge of Ivar's immense fragility on some of his biggest triggers. For example, the idea that people loved him just for pity and not for worth. Because Angrboda could be proud too and she thought he crossed a line in a way that was not acceptable.

He chose to doubt her, to believe what other people said. He chose to become like any other.

And besides hurting her, he was hurting himself.

She would have been inclined to forgive and forget anything to Ivar, but not something like that.

She felt the need to hurt others and break things just to deal with the anger that the idea of someone she considered as highly of, and as close as Ivar, could just so easily doubt her.

If she had something between her hands, she would have definitely thrown it with the sole purpose to see an object shutter in a million pieces.

But she didn’t want to hurt Ivar. The slap she gave him felt more than enough.

So, with all her anger and pride, Angrboda took off.

She turned on her feet and quickly charged to reach the door, intentioned to put as much distance from her and Ivar as she could.

Tomorrow it wouldn’t have been a problem: as he said, there was the possibility they won’t see each other again. And for a second, it sounded like such a good thing.

Even if everything, inside of her, was revolting to the sole idea that could have been their last conversation. Their last moment.

Maybe her vision lied.

Maybe it was just the inebriating moment she shared with Ivar that got so much to her brain to make her fantasise too much.

Maybe it wasn’t even a vision.

And who is her to understand perfectly something like that? Could she even be sure of what she saw?

Maybe it was all wrong. Even the Seer, and her destiny. Maybe, she wasn’t bound to be by Ivar’s side.

Her heart trembled under pressure just by the idea she was now rejecting something she always believed to be her fate. And that took a more realistic shape in her mind after she had her vision, laying between his arms, and after she felt their darknesses melt and tie.

Even now, the shadows inside of her were frizzling and agitating, like arguing with her for her own emotions and thoughts.

Angrboda stopped.

All her thoughts and emotions went quiet.

And she held her breath for a second. “Maybe, you are the one who should stop feeling pity for himself.”

She didn’t look back and denied feeling his aura, even if it was impossible. She clearly felt Ivar’s heart breaking inside her own chest.

Angrboda stepped out, running away from him and her own feelings – deluding herself that she could actually do so if she quickly put enough distance between herself and the whole situation.

She slid through the crowded Hall, being already unsteady made it easy for the sudden cacophony of people, voices and emotions to overwhelm her.

She needed air.

She needed quiet.

And to be alone. From everyone.

She didn’t stop on her way, not even when Ubbe and Hvitserk’s auras caressed her with their sudden worries. Actually, she probably moved even quicker, praying to the Gods that the brothers wouldn’t have followed her.

Once outside the Great Hall, Angrboda quickly turned around the building, following its longer side until she found a safe spot to hide.

Angrboda flattened herself on a wooden panel between one of the mid alcoves of the structure, feeling nested between the wooden columns and shielded enough to let out a deep breath.

She pressed her forehead against the redwood, taking a long and deep breath in, trying to work on her breathing to calm down and gather her thoughts.

Losing control meant she became sole emotions… And sometimes that wasn’t the right thing.

Angrboda pushed her hands against the wood, trying to find peace in the quiet solitude that surrounded her. People and sounds felt so far away. It was blissful to breathe some fresh night air in.

But her frustration wasn’t so easy to tame, which was why Angrboda let it out, punching the wall she was leaning on, letting a grunt out.

Even if she wanted to suppress it all, she had to admit that a little spillage of emotion made her feel a bit better.

“Look. A birdy got lost.”

Her peace was suddenly broken by a deep, rude voice accompanied by a group of men laughing viciously.

Even their auras carried the fuzziness brought by drinking too much ale, so much so she could almost taste it in their unstable emotions. Worse, was that she felt their energies slimily slid across her skin, leaving her with a weird aftertaste of being cut by rusty metal. She suddenly felt threatened.

But the group of men surrounded her and moved closer.

“Let us see your face, pretty birdy.” The same one who spoke first spoke again, and Angrboda presumed he was also the one who dawned upon her and grabbed her figure by the shoulders giving her a vigorous and rude shake, before pulling her to turn.

He proudly showed Angrboda to the rest of the group breaking into another slimy laugh.

The longer his hands were on her, the more Angrboda felt her being shake and vibrate by the need to run.

She tried to shake off his hands and growled at him, showing her teeth off. It was probably just because the man's mind was polluted by the ale, that she managed to catch him off guard and slip away. But she didn’t go far.

Another of his mates was quicker and she was grabbed again. The man welcomed her with a laugh, and shook her, pulling her to turn her once again towards the group. He pulled her closer to his chest grabbing her by the hair, to which Angrboda answered with another growl. Then, he ensured she wouldn’t run again clutching rudely his heavy, dirty hand around her neck and squeezing.

Angrboda snarled firstly trying to look at him and then, at the others. “Let me go, pigs!”

“Gods! It’s Loki-Kissed! It’s the witch!”

Angrboda expected them to react like people generally did, with disgust and slight fear being that close to her. But not this time, not these men.

These men laughed.

Angrboda felt their evil intention sip through. She saw their thirst for pain and blood – hers. And she felt their eagerness into getting recognized and glorified for freeing their people of her.

She tried to shake off the hold of the faceless man that held her.

“She definitely has fire inside of her.”

“Be careful, it can burn you.”

Another one laughed.

It was four men in total, around her. They smelled of ale and sweat. Their dirty clothes and shabby image placed them into Kattegat working class – they were probably men who sailed with Ragnar Lothbrok when they were younger and would definitely sail with Bjorn Ironside to find either glory or death.

She wondered if they were guests of the Hall, for a second.

Thinking about the Hall, she immediately wondered if someone noticed her absence – she hated the idea of relying on someone else’s help. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure how high her possibilities could be.

Angrboda was armed but kept her dagger tucked away tied to her ankle, which seemed difficult enough to grab.

What about her abilities? Could she rely on them truly?

Angrboda thought of giving it a shot.

She quickly moved her head backwards, throwing a header right to the face of the man holding her. As soon as he lost a second of balance and focus, she swiftly slipped away from his hold, giving him a push.

Angrboda curled up on herself just to reach for her dagger, which she showed off. Her body tensed in a combat position. “I can show you how much I can burn.” Angrboda's eyes shone and flickered of darkness.

She was ready to fight.

“We should kill her.” The man that was holding her earlier breathed heavily those words, while another moved closer, attracting Angrboda attention.

The group of men moved around her, sending each other looks to decide how to attack her.

But Angrboda had the upper hand to feel their emotions – even if they were disgusting.

More than their thirst for violence was the slight arousal that developed in some of their auras, making her insides twist violently.

Angrboda quickly turned around, making sure she looked at all the men around her, keeping her dagger blade well ready to slash flesh.

Angrboda showed a sly smile, her eyes shined again and she fed off the shivers her black gaze gave to the men around her. “You think I am so easy to kill off? Then get closer, maybe I will send a few of you to Hel, she will feast on your unworthy hearts.”

“People are right, she is a monster. Look at her.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t just kill her. Maybe we should hurt her too.”

“Monster or not, she is still just a woman and we should do what men do. I like her.”

“You can have her.”

Angrboda showed her teeth once more, growling at them. She hated to be talked about like she was a piece of meat, especially when she stood in front of her.

But feeling their hesitation, adrenaline and fear filled her with determination and hope. And power. The more scared they would become, the more she felt her thirst grow. “If you touch me there will be consequences. You will regret the day you were born!”

Angrboda kept slowly moving into a circle, thinking she had control. Thinking those men wouldn’t have dared to actually hurt her.

“No one would avenge you, witch. Your spells will die with you.”

“My father is Floki the Boat-builder! He will skin you alive.”

She thought she had control for too long.

As soon as she gave her back to someone to threatening look at someone else, she would automatically become more vulnerable and those men didn’t take long to understand it.

She got tackled, this time by three men at once.

They all pushed her against the red-wood wall, rudely smacking her face against the panel.

The two on her sides held her arms up, and the one who stood on her right side grabbed her arm and firmly slammed it against the wood panel, so she would lose the hold on her dagger.

The man behind her back kicked her ankles, to push her legs apart.

It was then that Angrboda shook and tried to scream, but the man behind her back grabbed her, suffocating her voice with his heavy, callous hand.

The man pushed his face between her hair, inhaling her smell – and the sudden satisfaction that broke into his dirty aura made her retch.

If it had to end, she would have rathered die that feel that man free hand moving on her body and pulling her skirt.

Then a voice suddenly broke through the air. “What a shame.”

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katttiia · 1 year

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Ragnar's sons will be remembered!

#vikings #bjorn lothbrok #sigurd lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #viking #ivar lothbrok #ragnar lothbrok #valhallaedit #alex høgh andersen #alex høgh imagine #ragnar lodbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #god #fan edit #netflix

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heavenlymorals · 1 year

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Sanguine Sanctum: Prologue: Exodus

Summary: After the Healing Church stormed Castle Cainhurst, the princes, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar had to escape. Where do they go? To the city of Yharnam.

I can't believe I finally put forth an idea that I conceptualized since February. A miracle, to be honest. Hopefully the next part (yes, this will be in parts, instead of chapters) won't take nine months to come out 😃 Also, I don't think it's that necessary to know about Bloodborne to enjoy this fic ❤

@pomegranates-and-blood I believe you wanted to be tagged? I hope you enjoy this ❤

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Every now and then, there would be a bump. The wheels of the carriage would get lodged onto some small pebble or into a dip in the road before overcoming and continuing onwards, the clopping of the horses’ hooves wringing out into the night, becoming a duet with the wind, which howled, savage and unsettled. The carriage kept moving, and the small little bumps would make the coach box jump slightly, almost like the flinching of a small child who got frightened by some strange crash.

In the coach were four boys, four boys who sought each other’s comfort in silence, four boys whose eyes, each a different shade of blue, juxtaposed with their faces. It wasn’t right. It was almost unsettling. It was unnerving because those eyes were not the eyes of young boys. A young boy’s eyes should be bright, wide, and teeming with wistful curiosity and beautiful ignorance. Here, it was not the case. No, sir, no. They had saddened eyes, doleful eyes, woeful eyes that aged them far beyond their youth, and terrified eyes that shattered any possible allusion of boyhood dreams.

It wasn’t as if they were truly ignorant of the world’s plight, humanity, no. They knew that humanity wasn’t this pure thing. If it was, then there wouldn’t need to be such things as laws and punishments and so on and so forth. If humanity was pure, then it wouldn’t be this filthy parasite that bored into the womb of the most fertile mother, the earth, and feasted upon everything good that she could offer. They all knew the world to be cruel, even the youngest of the bunch, who saw nine moons, but that cruelty was more like some distant fairytale than anything sowed into the souls of man from the absolute beginning that they were created. Their history lessons spoke of things such as war and conquest and the barbarism of such things, and they always acknowledged it, but it always seemed a concept so far away, so outlandish, to be anything real. To be anything that could actually happen to them.

They had their eyes opened. If one was to be more gruesome, it was as if a doctor had taken his scalpel and carved away their eyelids, tutting “oh, you don’t want these”, and then leaving them to wallow in their pain like stuck pigs, all whilst they screamed for him to stop, to go to hell. Too much. Too much. They will never be innocent boys again. They will never be foolish boys again.

How could they? Everything was taken away from them just like that! Everything, everything! It was still hard to process. So here they are, like vagabonds, though they weren’t, running away from danger, that they were.

Here in the cold, cold carriage, they sat in colder silence. Every now and then, a tear would drip down their youthful faces and they would wipe it away, though they said nothing about that. What would there be to say?

The oldest boy, Ubbe, opted to say: “It’ll be alright. We’ll be ok.”

His voice wavered, quivered. He wanted to sound like a man, but he wasn’t. He was fourteen. He was just a scared boy. It made what should have been words of encouragement and hope sound more like a question.

The second eldest of the bunch, Hvitserk, thirteen, had nothing to say. He only wrapped his arms more tightly around his knees. Anymore tight and he might break a bone. Hvitserk always followed Ubbe around, like a persistent shadow that was impossible to get rid of. Even if Ubbe was to stand in the shadow of a building, the shadow that was Hvitserk would always be darker than the shadow itself, always noticeable, a silhouette that could never be shooed away, not by hook or by crook. He was always agreeable to what Ubbe would want, always his steadfast companion, but this time, his silence was a defiance to Ubbe’s unsure words.

Will it be alright? Will they be ok?

They weren’t sure. Here, in this coach, in this small little coach that seemed to shrink a centimeter smaller in its dimensions with each passing moment, confining them, crushing them, they weren’t sure.

How could they be? Their entire world burned right in front of them. Their home, their friends, ashes to ashes.

Sigurd, number three, only stared at Ubbe with shock in those strange eyes of his. The eyes, a color that was this unnervingly pale blue, and a left pupil, that looked as if it melted like wax from a candle, seemed to seethe with a fine cocktail of anger and disgust, all whilst being laced underneath with helpless grief. Altogether, the flavor of the drink was a fine blend of disappointment and overall grief. Sigurd was eleven years of age, but he had a musician’s soul. He felt emotions strongly, but he was also a realist. It was a strange combination, but it was one that made Sigurd feel disgusted at Ubbe’s words. Strange. He knew the words were meant to comfort, but he didn’t want to be comforted. He wanted to scream and yell and hit. The coach did not offer such luxuries.

Ivar, the youngest, seemed to cave in on the words. He sat on Ubbe’s right, leaning on him lightly, but now, he seemed to sink in entirely on Ubbe’s side, as if Ubbe’s body was quicksand who was enveloping him whole. He wasn’t though. And Ivar did not fight the arm that snaked around him, holding him closer, and carding its fingers through his thick head of dark brown head. Ivar was an enigma. At first glance, when one says this of Ivar, one might think of it physically. As in Ivar’s physical body. He was born crippled. His lower body, the bones to be exact, was much weaker than his upper body, and his legs wilted. Of course, since they were living in a world of modern medicine, they were able to negate as much damage as possible, but most of the time, he needed assistance to move around. All his brothers grew up healthy and strong, so Ivar’s frailty was a question but it was not the enigma.

The actual enigma that was Ivar was his mind. He was smart as a whip, quick-witted, and unnervingly cunning, even at his tender age. He would usually keep his nose in books and whenever he got an idea, there would be hell to pay by someone. His intelligence was always one step away from the madness and that thin line seemed to be trampled on in this coach that marked that nothing will be the same ever again.

His mouth would sometimes wobble and his eyes were small waterfalls streaking his face with salty tears. Poor boy! Poor boys!

Will they be ok?

Silence. The answer was silence.

And silence? Well, she was a strange mistress. No questions, no answers, no nothing came from her stitched mouth.

Ubbe tightened his arm around Ivar and Ivar did not try to break free. Hvitserk still held his knees close to his chin. Sigurd was still unsure whether he should start cursing everything and everyone in this dratted world or follow his younger brother’s lead and just cry whilst being motivated to cry more because of the strange cocktail of silence and fear that was thick and soupy in the small space of the coach box.

The wheels of the coach continued to spin, crushing small pebbles underneath its wake. The hooves of the horses were like hammers on the road. The road wasn’t dirt anymore, it was cobblestone, and the sound of the hooves was much louder than before. A gust of wind rustled the ancient trees, assaulting the leaves, and the single caw of a crow could be heard out in the distance, another voice to this song of despair.

It was funny though. All of these sounds, all of these different songs wove an ambiance that, even in their gloomy state, could be beautiful, yet all they could hear was silence. Maybe they already were going mad. After all, things like these happen! One time, Ivar showed them a small newspaper clipping of a man getting sent to some madhouse by his cousins because he loved his lady too dearly and he couldn’t cope. She died of some strange ailment that ate her from the inside out. He was an important man too, some Yharnamite Lord, so of course, he would have a clipping dedicated to his madness.

Now of course they didn’t lose their wives or anything of the sort, being far too young. They lost their family. Their entire world.

They were Princes of Castle Cainhurst. Oh, everyone knew of Castle Cainhurst.

It was the gothic palace that rested on the mountains right next to the countryside of Yharnam. It was the cultural marvel of this charming land. It was the congregation of the most adept scholars and professors. It was the home of the most glamorous royalty, always so intelligent and cunning. It was the place where the Great Ones were felt most strongly. It was a place that was of a godly nature, a divine nature. It was where greatness bred like rabbits in a field of primrose, plentiful.

It was the gothic palace that rested on the mountains right next to the countryside of Yharnam. It was the coven of witches and the brooding nest of vampires. It was the place where the Great Ones were felt most strongly. It was a place that was of a heathen nature, a hedonist nature, too natural and too grotesque in its culture and its beliefs. It was where evil bred like mosquitoes on a bog, plentiful.

Which version of the castle was the right one? Number one or number two? Maybe one? Maybe two? Maybe both? Neither?

Did it matter anymore? Castle Cainhurst is gone. Perhaps the building is still there but everything that mattered is gone.

The nobility, the servants, the knights? Gone. Dead. Ubbe remembered running like a bat out of the hottest hell and then tripping on a puddle of blood, his shoes squeaking on the wet floor, over the severed body of some Lady whose face was covered in too much blood for him to make out who it was. She wore a green satin dress that was so overwhelmed by the blood that it turned almost black. He was only able to make out the color because it was visible by only a centimeter on the hems of the bottom of her sleeve.

Hvitserk was right behind him and suffered the same fate. His boot slipped on the puddle of blood and his face crashed violently onto the ground. No doubt that he tasted blood, both his own and the woman’s as he lifted his face up from the nightmare, wiping it away violently with the bishop sleeve of the fine white shirt he was wearing. Red, red, red.

Both the boys stopped in their shock. It seemed as if they were connected, an invisible string puppeteering both their minds together in order for them to behave the same.

Screams. They heard screams.

But they didn’t move, too scared. The world seemed to revolve around them in slow motion, with every single second feeling like a single hour.

Eventually, they felt hands grasping at their collars, hoisting them upwards and breaking them out of their trance, and then pushing them forwards to keep running They turned around reluctantly, anxious to see whether it was a friendly face or the black-garbed figures who ravaged this most sacred place.

A friendly face! Lady Siggy! They always regarded her as a sort of Aunt, as she was a dear friend to her highness, Queen Aslaug, and would sometimes take care of them when they were younger. Her hair, flames of Auburn, and her eyes, rings of ice, made her seem like a sort of fae in this absolute nightmare. She quickly barked at them to run, to go, and to not look back. They nodded, their lips wobbling as tears pricked their eyes but they ran as far as they could carry themselves.

What happened to Siggy? She suffered the same fate as the woman with the green satin dress. A member of the executioners found her and gave her no time to plea for mercy. She was shot dead like a dog over the other woman. Good, good. It was a kinder death than what those men in grey and holy white would usually give their victims.

“By the will of the Healing Church, I order you to stop!” A muffled male voice spoke, joined in a ghastly duet by the wind, which screeched like a banshee.

The coach came to a halt, jerking the boys forward. They quickly recovered and each looked at the other with wide blue eyes. Ivar slipped away from his brother’s grasp and quickly pushed his little head out the window. His teeth began to chatter as he was hit with a cold gust of wind, swirling in his face, toying with his dark hair and lashes like a specter whose harm was unintentional and simply bound to the gears of a world that took both misery and glee with open arms and no hate to either. Instinctively, the young boy ground his teeth, and before he was pulled back into the coach by his older brother, he caught a quick glimpse of the figure who commanded the cease.

The man was cocooned in all black, save for the glimpses of silver that shone brilliantly under the gaze of the looming moon, projecting its silver luminescence onto them all. Under him was an equally black horse, rocking gently to the left and right. They looked connected to each other, one single being. Once, Ivar read a book speaking on the conquerors of old. A small little footnote nestled snugly in the passages was of how the natives of the raped lands would cower in fear under the sight of the horsemen. They’d never seen such things as horses and believed that both the horse and the man were one and the same. In this brief glance of the man on the steed, Ivar now understood how they could’ve thought that.

They stayed as still as they could, listening to what will happen next.

“Hello, good sir. Quite the weather we’re having, aye?” That was their carriage driver’s voice. His name was Floki. They’ve known him for so long, that it seemed he was always there. He was the one who led their prodigal father to Castle Cainhurst. He was the one who pledged his allegiance to the heathen ways of Cainhurst, thus to their mother as well. She trusted him. Mother was smart. She knew that this would one day happen, so she made sure that her boys would be able to get to Floki safely. He lived with his wife in a cottage on the outskirts of the country. Close enough to be next to the castle but not close enough to garner suspicion of the church. They all liked Floki. He was fun to be around, always told the best stories, and despite his inklings of madness, he was still as reliable as an old oak in a thunderstorm. Ivar liked him best though.

The clopping of horse hooves continued briefly before stopping. They heard the man sliding off the saddle of the animal before walking to the carriage. The coach shifted a bit to the side as the man put his weight on the thing.

“Indeed. Perhaps they got the almanac wrong. I’m sure that there wasn’t supposed to be this much wind today. But I did not stop you here to discuss the weather.”

“Of course not, sir. What is going on?”

The carriage shifted a bit. The man must’ve relieved the body from its surface. The man’s voice, which was already quite deep, took on a persona of shrewd business, which made it seem all the more profound, even though they were quite certain that the octaves of his voice did not change a single bit.

“The church has been on the lookout for …vagabonds now, I suppose, though I prefer ‘them who are guilty of blasphemy and sacrilege’. The church has finally cast its sword once more at Castle Cainhurst but some of the bastards have managed to escape. We’ve been tasked with stopping all carriages and coaches to make sure that they are not providing service for anyone who does not deserve it.”

They could hardly breathe. They knew that the vagabonds in question were them.

Floki let out a gasp. He could be a good actor when he puts his mind to it. “Ah, isn’t that the nature of heathens? To be slippier than an eel in an oil slick? It’s no matter, by the will of God, you will find them soon enough.”

The man chuckled at the analogy. “Amen. Still though, please get off the coach. That goes for anyone inside as well. Understand that it is just a precaution. And may you have no reason for that precaution to exist.”

“Of course not, brother. Boys! Get out for a moment, would you please?”

Ice. All they felt was ice. It was a miracle that Ubbe was able to push the door open to get out. They felt so cold and frozen that it became a labor to simply move. They moved though, and one by one they jumped out of the spartan coach. Ubbe grabbed Ivar and hoisted him up before following his brothers.

They stood by the side of the road and watched mindlessly as the man, who had their backs turned on them, began to usher a few more men behind him to examine the coach. Those men were the church’s bloodhounds. The eldest two, Ubbe and Hvitserk, were able to tell rather quickly. They’ve seen them before when they were brought to Yharnam inconspicuously by their mother or father. Mother never brought them to Yharnam without some sort of disguise. She shielded them from the eyes of Yharnam so much that the ‘princes of Cainhurst’ might as well be a fairytale. The garbs the bloodhounds wore were rather iconic and made them stand out amongst the populous and the other members of the Healing Church. The black coats hung to their shins, and they were always open, showing black pants and black vests, and shiny black boots, which were interrupted somewhat by the white gloves and the holy shawl that fluttered proudly on their backs. On their head was a brimmed hat, which continued the pattern of black. On their belts were their chosen weapon, the infamous threaded cane, and a hunter’s pistol. A satchel was also on their belt, holding whatever it is they needed. Silver bullets, blood vials, scripture, all of that.

It would seem somewhat repetitive to say, but these men became known as the black church hunters. Their father once told them that the church would like to describe these humble servants as rudimentary doctors who deal with the bestialis morbus by ‘early’ prevention. That early prevention would consist of disposing of potential victims of the disease, sometimes even before any symptoms would set in place. Because of this, the holy garb that they wore became synonymous with fear and paranoia, something Yharnam was all too familiar with.

Among the men, they noticed, was a single woman. Her attire mirrored her brothers’, but instead of pants and a vest, she had a long black twill skirt that was only a few centimeters from touching the ground and an equally black bodice that was laced in a way that did enhance the shape of her waist but still held on to religious modesty. She walked towards them and looked them up and down with a critical gaze. She probably wanted to discern whether or not they were those ‘heathens’ that escaped the divine retribution of the church. From her sash, she picked up a dagger that was gilded with silver. On the handle was a clandestine rune. Something magical. Something to reveal.

“Hello, boys. I am sorry to ask this of you, but please. May I see your hand? I promise this won’t hurt you.”

“...What will you do?” Ubbe asked quietly, his grasp on Ivar tightening. Ivar gasped a little at the strength of his brother’s arms and wiggled to let him know that he was hurting him. Ubbe relieved the pressure.

“I will make a small cut on the tip of your finger. Silver hurts those who are cut from sacrilegious cloth. It is almost as if they are touching hellfire.”

Refraining from showing his surprise, Ubbe only nodded. He trusted his mother. Before they left, she put on them a charm that was supposed to conceal them from the church’s methods, whatever they were, of revealing ‘heathens’. Cainhurstians. It must have hurt her since she almost collapsed after doing so. It made sense, though. It must’ve taken a lot of energy for her to conceal her sons’ true natures, their ‘demonic’ abilities regarding the arcane of blood magic.

Ubbe nodded and held out his hand while the other was still hooked around Ivar. The woman gently took his hand, unwrapping one finger with a gentle movement covered by soft white cloth, and brought the edge of the knife to surgically place one almost unnoticeable cut. Instinctively, Ubbe closed his eyes. He half expected to go out in flames but he felt nothing. The cold wind also seemed to numb the sting somewhat. Nothing happened. He wasn’t engulfed in flames and he wasn’t howling in pain. As he opened his eyes, he saw one speck of blood on the tip of his finger and that he was still standing. Satisfied, the woman nodded under her brimmed hat and moved one by one with the other brothers. She saved Ivar for last, and surprisingly, he was compliant with the request, not struggling against it. The same happened to him. He didn’t scream or be damned. Ubbe doubt he even felt it.

The man who stopped the carriage was looking at the other men who were turning the coach inside out, to find anything that might’ve been contraband in their eyes. Thankfully, Floki knew what to do. Any of their personal belongings were still at his cabin, but he hid them in a place no one would be able to find but him. Magic, probably, maybe a tear between the realms where he snuck them in, but that was simply a guess amongst many other guesses. Floki also made sure to strip them of their princely attires and instead fit them into ratty canvas pants with flayed suspenders and stained white shirts. The shoes hurt their feet, devoid of the comfort and support that their usual footwear provided them. Their hair was tousled, and their under eyes and cheeks were glazed over with soot to give them a sort of sallow appearance. Floki was good at makeup. In any case, they looked nothing like princes and Cainhurst was rather infamous for its vanity. Mother would be aghast if it weren’t for the circumstances they were in. Father, wherever he was, would laugh.

The woman stood up and brushed her knees. She picked up the small lantern to look inside her pouch and pulled out a piece of cloth to wipe away the blood on the dagger. She did this with each prick. She did not bother with them. As she completed her task, she went to Floki and did the same to him. Despite owning his allegiance to Cainhurst, he was not one of them by blood, which explained why he was able to get away with not being found out. As she was doing the same ritual with Floki, the man who stopped the coach walked towards them and lifted the lantern to his face.

Finally, he wasn’t just a blob of black in midnight pitch. His face was sharp and angular, and his eyes were a blue paler than ice. He might’ve looked handsome if it weren’t for the fact that his eyebrows and lashes were so thin and so blonde that it looked like they didn’t even exist. On his head was a black leather tricorne, a hunter’s cap, and on his neck swung a rosary that depicted the sigil of the church, instead of the shawl that the men under him wore. Being of a higher rank, he had an inlay of silver on his chest, bracers, and boots. The pride of the moon was silver, a holy thing that protected against the unholy. So, that is what the church says. On his back was a saw cleaver, a gnarly weapon against beasts, or so the books say. It was also inlaid with silver.

“So what brings you out here, boys? It is quite late to be traveling.”

Ubbe felt as if his tongue turned to a sponge, a sponge covered in ashes. He managed to talk without a waver in his voice, somehow, someway. “We’re going to Yharnam for the holidays with our uncle Floki.” It wasn’t technically a lie. They considered Floki their uncle and the holidays truly were around the corner.

The man smiled. It was unsettling. Charming and bright, but unsettling. Ubbe felt a shiver shoot up his spine. Perhaps it was his lashless eyes.

“Ah. Well, I hope you will have a wonderful time. Yharnam has an interesting way of welcoming her guests, but I hope you have a good time. Assuming you’re cleared, of course.”

They all nodded.

“Of course,” Hvitserk whispered.

The man then noticed the streaks of tears on Ivar’s face, on all of their faces. He frowned. “Is something wrong? It looks as if you have finished weeping?”

Floki spoke to the man about this one. “Their mother passed away. Killed by bandits. She loved the holidays so dearly that it always reminds them of her.” The best lies were the ones that were shrouded in truth.

The man nodded sagely. “May she rest in peace.”

If it weren’t so horrible, they would all laugh.

As if on cue, one of the men that checked the coach walked up to his leader and whispered that everything was fine. The man nodded and his eerie smile turned wider. He then muttered something under his breath, definitely Latin, but the blowing wind made it choppy. He was probably reciting the gospel. He then turned back to them. Any concern he may have had for them was instead replaced by a manic, almost sycophantic religious zeal. His sharp, unnerving smile was back. It unsettled them greatly. Something was so, so wrong.

“May you be blessed! By the grace of all that is holy! Take care. Keep warm. Yharnam is rather cruel during the winter.”

He brought his gloved hand and patted the top of Ivar’s head. Ivar pushed him away and then hid his face in Ubbe’s shoulder. Ubbe gasped and from the corner of his eye, he saw the man balling his fist. His genial grin turned placid.

“Come now, Ivar, don’t be rude to this kind man…” As he looked at Ivar, and Ivar looked at him, his eyes screamed: just play along. At least for now. No. Get used to it.

The man waved his hand and his smile returned. “Oh, it’s quite alright. He’s probably angry that he had to be out in the cold.” His gaze then reverted to Ivar. “You know what you want, little one. That is good.”

Ivar glared at him. Stubborn boy.

They finally let them go, and the bumping and creaking of the rickety carriage returned to remind them of where they were going.

To Yharnam. To hide right under the church’s nose. How poetic.

Finally, they made it to the city.

The moon was in her fullest form. The markings on it almost made it look like an all-seeing eye, directing its ethereal gaze on the gothic city that seemed to stretch on for miles on end. Pyramid pinnacles grazed the clouds like demonic fingers. Bulky buttresses trailed endlessly upwards, a friend to the clouds. All the buildings looked so cluttered together but the baroque details that haunted all the walls instilled it with a glaring charm that seemed to conquer their minds. Chapels and cathedrals dotted the city, a city ever so stalwart with its allegiance with the church, and simply enforced the intricate architecture that was as beautiful as it was disheartening. The colors were always so dark, so drab, and the only things that attempted to lighten the atmosphere somewhat were the red lamps that hung on the staircases or were fixated on a sconce, and the golden lights that would gare through windows in darkened alleyways. Whatever joy the lights brought was then overshadowed by the marble statues depicting veiled saints weeping and mourning. Anyone could appreciate how intricate the statues were, how delicate the faces were, how expressive their gestures were, and how realistic the folds of the cloth were, but in this already too despairing city, it just made it darker.

The smog covering the skyline also didn’t help in that aspect.

They could do nothing as they watched the buildings pass by them as Floki encouraged the horses to continue moving.

Cainhurst was no more. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out, especially now. Especially them, since they saw the carnage right in front of them.

They will now reside in Yharnam, by the will of their late mother, since she practically owned the city before the church had enough of her games, and pray to whoever will listen that they will survive and perhaps even thrive, but it is never good to be that hopeful.

After all, who could call Yharnam a city that inspired hope other than madmen?

#vikings #ivar the boneless #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #sigurd lothbrok #vikings fanfiction #fanfic #bloodborne au #floki #vikings floki

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ubbesbabymama · 1 year

Text

Their friend is pregnant, pt. 2.

↳ Pairing. Hvitserk The Berserker, Sigurd Snake in The Eye, Ivar The Boneless.

↳ Summary. How would they react to their dear friend being pregnant. [I imagine this with them having the same kind of friendship that Ragnar had with Athelstan but with the reader].

↳ Warnings. Violence, death, abusive relationships, smut/mention of sex.

↳ Note. A second part so I could write the ones that are left because is just so much fun to write this plot.

Part one.

Hvitserk The Berserker.

He adores you, he genuinely thinks you’re the only perfect person on earth and he would do anything to protect you from anybody, even himself.

He is busy between a thrall’s legs, making everything in his power to make her scream his name, thrusting like a madman when he hears his name being called and he stops right away. That’s not the thrall’s voice.

“Hvitserk,” You sob and he can’t help but to pull out and push the woman, running to you while fixing his pants.

“Come here, come here,” He mumbles, taking you in his arms and walking to another room that doesn’t smell like sex.

He sits on the floor in front of a bonfire with you on his lap, and you move around till your legs are around him just like he is around you. You move again and he grunts.

“D-Don’t move too much,” He whispers.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry, forgive—,” You try to move but he grips your thighs. “Hvitserk.”

“Forget everything else and tell me why are you crying,” He says. “Talk to me.”

“Why do I have to talk to you while your cock is poking into my backside?” You ask him and he grunts again, this time because of your stubbornness.

“That is because I got interrupted while I was getting it down, now, talk to me or I am going to take my axe and go look for the information myself.” He threatens.

You sigh and clean your face a little before looking at him.

“I am with child.”

“That’s not true,” He chuckles and panics when your eyes start to fill with tears, and he takes your face in his hands. “Wait— no, no, no sweat heart.”

“Y-You don’t believe me either,” You sob in his hands and he shakes his head.

“I thought it was another one of your pranks, I apologize little one,” You nod, sobbing. He frowns. “Either?”

“He kicked me out of the house… literally,” You whisper, rolling your dress to show him your scratched knees, you show him your hands and they’re scratched too. “He said I cheated on him, that a whore like me could find a man to breed me really fast just so I could trap—,”

You stop talking when Hvitserk moves you around, standing up and taking you with him. He puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the room and back to his room. In silence he takes off your dirty dress and tosses it to the side, he looks around for a moment and comes back with a shirt of him, he helps you put it on.

“I’m going to be right back, get under the covers,” He quietly says, you shake your head, and he sighs. “Under the covers, please.”

“You’re going to kill him.” You whisper.

“Of course, I’m going to kill him, for starters, I gave you that house, he has no right to kick you out, and second, while you’re with child?” He snorts with malice.

“Hvitserk,” He looks at you and holds your stare to let you know that he is not backing down. You nod to yourself and kiss his cheek. “I’ll wait for you awake.”

You know he is back when some thralls enter the room with the tub, he enters right behind them and you gasp, he is bathed in blood, from the hair to his boots.

“What in Odin’s green earth did you do to him?!” You ask alarmed, he shrugs and starts to take his clothes off in front of you and the thralls. “Hvitserk!”

“I tied him to a tree and started beating him,” He looks up slowly, his eyes cold. “I beat him till his last breath.”

“You’re insane,” You whisper, getting out of bed when he gets inside the tub. You start to undo his braids.

“For you, I can be worse than Ivar, you know this already.” He chants, not a single trace of regret on his face.

“Yeah well, you killed the abusive father of my child,” You roll your eyes. “So it’s safe to say that you’re now a father.”

He smirks.

“Great.”

Sigurd Snake In The Eye.

Everybody could see how much you mean to him, it was as obvious as the fact that the sun would shine every day. When it comes to you he knows no reason or shame, going as far as to beg if he needs to.

“I-I can’t find her,” He murmurs when all his brothers are gathered to hunt.

“Who?” Ubbe asks.

“What do you mean you can’t find her? It’s almost as if you live together,” Hvitserk jokes.

“I think her husband has something to do with her suddenly disappearing.” He swallows and just now everybody feels the tension in the air. “I-I need help, please.”

Suddenly Ivar starts crawling away and everybody looks at him, he stops and looks back directly at Sigurd.

“What are you doing there? We have to find her.” He grunts and in no time Sigurd is by his side.

That’s how much you mean to Sigurd, so much that even his younger brother whom he always argues about anything not dare to joke around.

And he finds you, in a small cabin deep in the woods, thanks to Hvitserk’s insight in the town he founds that your husband owns this cabin for when he goes hunting alone.

He enters the cabin and sucks a breath when he sees you in a corner hugging your legs. He takes one step and your husband comes out and pulls you by the hair, you yelp.

“If you get close I will kill them both!” He screams and Sigurd frown.

“Who’s them?” He whispers to himself, and you sob.

“You didn’t tell him? You’re carrying his child and you didn’t—,”

“Because it’s not his!” You cry, looking at Sigurd and his stare makes you stop trembling a little. You’re safe, Sigurd is here.

Suddenly an arrow enters from behind Sigurd, right on top of his head, and embedded right onto your husband’s head, him being so tall makes it easy for the archer to shoot without fearing it would hit you.

Sigurd looks behind him and nods to Ubbe, who just nods back and starts walking back with his brother, leaving him with you.

He opens his arms and watches how you run and jump on him, his arms sliding around you, one on your thigh and the other on your waist.

“I’m here now, shh…” He comforts you while walking till he leans on a wall. “Nobody can’t hurt you anymore.”

You sob on his neck and he hums.

“I’m tired,” You murmur and he nods.

He takes you back to the town and directly into his room and orders the thralls to prepare a bath for you. When everything’s ready he undresses you and lets you get inside the tub, he’s about to start looking for clothes for you but your grip on his hand stops him.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m getting in with you,” He says to calm you down and when he sees you expectant he undresses and gets inside too, behind you.

He starts to caress your belly, he supposed you haven’t seen your monthly blood and that’s why you know you’re with child since it’s not clear in your belly.

“You’re going to start living here,” He whispers in your ear. “So I can take care of you better.”

“You have obligations,” You whisper.

“And you’re the main one,” He hums. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Ivar The Boneless.

Nobody understands how you can stand Ivar, with the man being borderline obsessed with you. The only reason why you can lay with men is that he is certain that he can’t satisfy a woman and he would rather be burned alive than disappoint you from all people, but other than that, he lets no man get close to you unless you directly tell him that you chose that man to warm your chambers, he has bodyguards for you, thralls for you, he gives you a quarter of everything he owns or gets. Even when he goes raiding everybody knows that a lot of the goods are yours and yours only. That’s how obsessed Ivar The Boneless is with you.

Of course, it’s almost impossible to hide things from him, more so with the people in town being so eager to bring him information about you just to be favored, so as soon as you’re being yelled at and tossed around by the Viking Ivar is notified.

“You think after three times you can already be with child?! Do you think I’m stupid?!” The man was yelling at you, but you weren’t backing down. No sir.

“After ONE time of laying together, I can already be with child, or do you think your seed is so weak you need more than once? even more than three? Poor you.” You mock and gasp when he pushes you, making you fall onto your backside, you whimper at the burn in your hands for breaking the fall.

“I should just kill you and that bastard right now!” He yells, and you spit on your side in response.

“Who?” You freeze, feeling chills run down your spine. That voice only means problems, and a lot of them. “Who are you going to kill? My woman?”

You feel him right beside you, leaning on his crutch. He looks down at you and nods and you nod back, slowly standing up.

“L-Lord I-Ivar,” The man stuttered.

“So? You’re going to kill my woman, you say?” Ivar says, his tone friendly but his eyes, oh those eyes.

“N-no, no my lord,” The man keeps stuttering. “It’s this woman who says she’s carrying my child.”

Ivar face snaps to the side, looking at you while anger starts to bubble in his system, a burning feeling in his chest, he squints his eyes at you and silently you start to pray to the gods for the life of the man.

“When I was hunting and you were keeping me company, that was your last month bleeding, right?” Ivar says and he’s not actually asking, he knows that information, for he’s the one you always go to when you’re in pain, but you nod anyways. “And he pushed you while you’re carrying a child?”

You nod again.

“Yes, Ivar.” The man grimaces when he hears you call Ivar by his name and without honorifics, why nobody told him he was laying with someone so important? “He did.”

Ivar’s face slowly turns to the man, and he grins.

“Now I have to decide whether you die—,”

“Ivar can I—,” You start but are interrupted.

“NO!” He snaps, pointing at you with his finger. “You do not get to save him from this, you do not get a saying this time!”

“Ivar,” Your own anger makes you grind your teeth. “Can I go home? My feet are hurting and I need to get a healer for my hands.”

He blinks and looks down at your bloody hands from the fall before, he sighs, feeling bad at the way he talked to you when you weren’t even trying to help the man.

“I’ll finish this quickly,” Ivar says and in the blink of an eye, the man is being dragged by Ivar’s men while crying and babbling apologies.

You don’t let Ivar say anything more and start walking home and when you get there you ask for a healer and after being done with your hands and a quick checkup on your overall health you ask for a hot bath.

“It’s ready, my lady,” The thrall says just in time for Ivar’s entrance, she gasps and starts to tremble.

“You can go now, don’t come back again, you may take the tub out tomorrow,” You whisper tiredly.

Ivar is covered in blood and even you get a chill run down your spine. It looks grotesque, never has he had so much blood on him from just one person, he looks demonic even.

“I’m—,” He starts but you lift your hand.

“I honestly don’t want to hear it,” You murmur, starting to get undressed.

He looks at you with attention, watching you moan when the hot water gets in contact with your skin.

“I’m sorry.” He finishes what he was saying earlier and you roll your eyes.

“I’m with child, I got pushed by the father of the child and then he got killed by you and I imagine it was in the most animalistic way you could think of,” You tell him coldly. “I’m tired, I didn’t need you snapping at me when I was the one being mistreated, you may go now if that’s going to happen again.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says, he looks emotionless, his voice too. But you know that those words coming out of Ivar’s mouth is already a blessing.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He says, crawling more closer.

“You look scary.”

“I’ll get clean after you tell me how are you,” He whispers and you sigh.

“What am I going to do now?” You whisper to him, getting close to him.

“Nothing, you don’t need to do anything,” He whispers. “Just let me take care of you. Both of you.”

“You already do that,” You smile.

He smiles and leans, giving you a soft kiss although you could tell it doesn’t mean anything more.

“Yes I do, until the gods call me to Valhalla.”