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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

Text

Yggdrasil

Summary: How can you tell your father what happened to you when he’d done it to so many others.

Pairing: father!King Harald x daughter!reader; platonic!Ivar x reader; Ubbe x reader

Tags: @alicedopey

Notes: big tw! This fic discusses the aftermath of rape and s/a, abortion, and suicide attempts, do not read if this will upset you!

idk, I’ve been in a horrible mental state lately (bc stuff) and I wrote this to cope.This is not about anyone mentioned in the pairings being involved in the rape! Just wanted to clear that up...

It eats away at you. You’re glad your father isn’t here to see you, because then, he’d know something was wrong. Halfdan is too busy to notice that something is wrong as of yet.

You can’t help but blame yourself. You could fight, and yet, they’d overpowered you in your own town.

Furs surround you as you lie in bed, trying not to think about what happened, but your body is still in pain. Bruises and cuts litter your back and arms as you stare at the ceiling. You can’t leave your room because the streets of Tamdrup will only remind you what happened.

The room is a safe haven, but you wonder how long you can stay in here. It’s already been two days.

Thralls bring you food. Only one servant, an old woman you’d known since childhood called Thordís knows what happened. The others don’t dare to ask.

When there’s a knock at the door, you turn your back to it, covering yourself with even more furs. You know that knock.

Halfdan.

He comes in regardless of your silence.

“Why are you in your room all the time?” he asks.

“Go away.” You tell him. You know what your father and uncle do on raids. They know you’ve always disapproved. Now, the knowledge of what they do makes you sick.

He stays. Finally, you throw a candleholder at him, and he leaves you alone.

That night, your dreams suffocate you and you wake up with a strangled scream ripping from your throat. Halfdan bursts through the door, axe in hand.

“It was just a nightmare.” You tell him, and he’s ready to turn around when you stop him. You aren’t sure why.

“Will you stay?” you ask. Halfdan looks confused, but obliges, settling down at the side of your bed. It’s something you used to do often when you were a small girl. You were afraid of the thunder, and when storms came, Halfdan would sit on the floor and guard your bed.

He does it now, and you manage to fall asleep again.

***

The next morning, you hear voices in your room and almost jolt awake before you remember that you asked Halfdan to guard you in the night.

He’s talking to your father. Harald has returned from whatever matter he was attending to. You pretend to sleep, listening to their conversation.

“What are you doing in my daughters’ room, brother?” Harald asks.

You think Halfdan shrugs. “She had a nightmare.”

“Is she still asleep?” Harald asks. He probably wants to talk to you or spend time with you, but you don’t have the energy.

“Yeah.” Halfdan replies. They leave the room, and you sigh in relief.

A few hours later, Thordís opens the door. You turn at her quiet steps. The woman who basically raised you after your mother died has a sad smile on her face.

“I brought you some herbs.” She says, beginning to make them into a tea.

You don’t have to ask which herbs because you know. You nod, unable to speak and she sets the cup down on a table close to your bed.

“Don’t tell my father.” You beg her.

“I would never do that to you, child.” She replies, before scurrying out of the room. She still calls you child, even now, when you’ve lost all your innocence.

You stare at the herbs but can’t bring yourself to take them. Instead, you pick up your favorite dagger.

The shame raging in your body intensifies. Killing yourself is cowardly, dishonorable, but you don’t know what to do.

You’re a princess, you’re supposed to marry and then have many heirs, but even the thought of sleeping with someone makes you want to vomit. You enjoyed it before, but now…

The dagger is cool against the skin of your wrist as you drag it across. Scarlet droplets fall onto your furs and nightgown. The nightgown you’ve worn since that night, unable to look at your own body.

Silent tears stream across your face. Your own cowardice and weakness disgusts you and you feel guilty. Your father and uncle will go to Valhalla, where your mother is already waiting, and you will forsake your place at their side for this.

Your eyes grow heavy, and you let your head sink onto your pillow.

***

Someone shakes you awake. You panic and your eyes snap open, ready to defend yourself when you see your father.

You’ve never seen him look this panicked.

His eyes are red, and that tells you he’s cried. Thordís stands in the doorway, shaking as a healer is wrapping your wrist. Halfdan paces in your room.

Harald cups your face, and you know he’s trying to keep it together. You feel even guiltier.

“What were you thinking?” he asks, “I leave, and you are fine and then I come back to you slitting your wrist?” he looks exasperated, at a loss for words. Suddenly, he lets you go and looks around the room.

His eyes fall on the herbs and the tea, and you see that he begins to suspect something. Not rape, not yet.

“I’m sorry.” You cry, “I’m so sorry father.”

“Why?” he asks. You stare straight ahead. Blood soaks the bed around you as you think of what happened and the price you’re paying for it.

“OUT! ALL OF YOU, OUT!” he yells, and they all leave.

His voice hits you like a whip, and you try to make yourself even smaller, edging away from him.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.” You cry, burying your head in your hands again.

Harald moves closer slowly. His hand almost touches your neck, covered by a shawl. When you feel him begin to unwind the shawl, you feel paralyzed, the bruises beginning to burn.

You can’t bear to look at him.

He inhales sharply when he sees the bruises, blotchy handprints mixed with forced hickeys.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, his voice dangerously low. You don’t respond.

He stands up and paces around the room. “WHO?” he repeats, and you flinch away from him.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

Harald sits back down and puts a gentle but firm hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark, violent.

“I don’t know.” You repeat. “I know I ruined your plans, father, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let them- “

He interrupts you. “It wasn’t your fault, but I swear by the Gods, I will find whoever did this and make them wish they’d never been born.”

You nod and begin to grab the tea, but he stops you.

“I’ve heard they’re dangerous. You shouldn’t risk it.”

“This isn’t like the other times. They didn’t care if I got pregnant.” Shame heats up your face as you finally confess the truth to him.

“There were six of them. I’ll take the risk.”

Before he can stop you, you chug the bitter brew.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harald asks.

“How could I? Do you think I don’t know what you do to women? I could ignore it before, but now it makes me sick. I know what it feels like and to think that my own father did this-“ you shake, before continuing, “Get out. I can’t even look at you without thinking about what they did.”

He pales at those words, but as you look at him with an expression of disgust, he stands and leaves the room, shoulders hunched.

***

You can’t sleep because your insides feel like they are knotting together. You vomit, the fourth time this night as Thordís rubs careful circles over your back.

Despite your cruel words, you can hear your father pacing outside the door, agitated as he worries that his only child will die after all.

Fate has something else in store for you, and you make it through the next few days. With the help of Thordís, you manage to take small walks through your hometown.

When Harald and Halfdan announce they’re going to Kattegat, you go with them. You need to go. It’s been two months and the excuses you can tell your people are running out.

Kattegat is blissfully familiar, untainted by violent memories.

“Will you come on the raid with us?” Halfdan asks as you sit in the longhouse. Harald stands off to the side, while Thordís unpacks your things.

“You know I can’t.” you press out. You asked Thordís to tell him because you couldn’t bear to do it again. Halfdan nods.

“Your betrothal to Ubbe-“ Harald begins with a sigh.

“I’ll still marry him.” You reply. You’d thought about it for a long time. If Halfdan and Harald were going to leave for the Mediterranean, you’d need someone to help you rule Vestfold. And Ubbe was kind, understanding. You’d slept with him before, you’d known him for a long time. You’d take him over a myriad of other suitors.

“I’ve thought about it.” You assure Harald, who still looks worried.

“Aslaug wants you to get married before we leave.” Harald says and you swallow.

“Fine.”

***

The feast is loud and uncomfortable, and you retreat into a corner. Normally, you’d be in the middle of it, drinking and talking.

Ivar sits down next to you. You can tell he knows that something is different. Thankfully, he doesn’t talk about it.

“You should be talking to your husband-to-be.” Ivar says, almost angrily.

For the first time in two months, you quirk a small smile. “We won’t stop being friends, you know.” You reply.

Your friendship was an accident really. You were the same age and when you’d visited Kattegat as a four-year-old, you’d stolen some cakes from the kitchen. Ivar had helped you hide after you promised him undying loyalty, a promise he still expected you to uphold.

Well, he’d always been extremely demanding.

“I’m going to raid with Ragnar. In England.” Ivar admonishes. You set down your cup.

“Excuse you?” you’d heard that Ragnar had returned of course, but you’d also heard in which manner he’d returned.

Ivar shrugs. “Hvitserk and Bjorn are leaving for the Mediterranean and I take it you’ll take Ubbe to Tamdrup with me. I’m not staying here with Sigurd.”

“So come to Tamdrup with me.” You say.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Ivar says.

“You’re an idiot.” You reply. Your expression softens and you take Ivar’s hand. “Don’t get yourself killed over there.”

When Ubbe approaches, Ivar rolls his eyes and leaves.

Ubbe sits down next to you, taking a drink from his cup.

“We’re getting married.” He says.

“Strange how the world works, eh?” you reply.

Ubbe chuckles. “We always knew how to have a good time together, so I’m not to worried.” He smirks flirtatiously.

Instantly, you feel guilty. If you keep this a secret your wedding night and marriage will be a nightmare for you. If you tell him, he might break off the engagement.

You put a hand on his arm decidedly. “About that. We have to talk. Do you know somewhere more private?”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he nods. Ubbe escorts you to his longhouse, leaving the sounds of the feast behind. You sigh deeply as he closes the door behind him.

His reaction isn’t at all what you expected. Ubbe’s face turns from confusion, to anger, to worry as he listens to your story.

“I just wanted to be honest.” You finish.

“We don’t have to.” Ubbe replies in an assuring voice. “Not until you’re ready.”

Relief floods you as you hug him tightly.

***

Your goodbye to Halfdan and Harald is hard but saying goodbye to Ivar is even worse. You doubt that this will be a successful raid.

Ubbe stands behind you. You have begun to truly love your new husband, who respects that you can’t sleep with him yet and comforts you if you wake from nightmares.

Ivar stares up at you, a slightly bratty expression on his face.

“What?” he asks.

“If you die on me, I’ll find a way to bring you back to life so I can kill you again for leaving.” You say. Ivar smiles, and you hug him goodbye. Aslaug comforts you as you watch your friend sail away.

Then, you turn to Ubbe.

“Are you ready to leave?” you ask, and he nods.

You agreed with your father that it would be good to have Ubbe by your side in his absence. A few warriors are loading crates with goods onto the ships you brought from Tamdrup and Thordís overlooks the thralls.

Quickly, you say goodbye to Aslaug and Sigurd before boarding a ship. Ubbe follows.

***

Sitting in your father’s throne, you listen to the problems and quarrels the people bring before you. Ubbe has been good company and gives wise advice. In time, the two of you will hopefully make good rulers.

When two brothers come forward, explaining their fight over a woman, Ubbe helps them while you look around the room.

That is when you see them. They sit at the back, drinking. Are they oblivious to you sitting on your father’s throne?

You know you are paling. When Ubbe says your name and you don’t respond, he follows your eyes and sees them.

“I need a break.” You tell him.

Ubbe claps his hands. “We’ll resume in a few minutes, for now, my wife and I must discuss an important matter.”

He turns to a guard and in a quieter voice, he adds, “Close the doors. Make sure no one leaves.”

You take his hand and lead him to your quarters.

“It’s them.” You say. Ubbe nods, “I figured. I should bloodeagle them. For what they did to you.”

A strong, but gentle hand carefully tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You enjoy the touch, strangely enough.

“My father and uncle would want the same, but I don’t want them to reach Valhalla. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Then what do we do?” he asks.

Your smile turns malicious as you ponder over your revenge. “Invite them for dinner.”

Ubbe nods slightly. “Sounds good.”

***

The healer gives you her most painful poison without question.

When you ask what it does, her old face seems to turn reminiscent. “It makes your skin burn from the inside. Makes you scratch it off until you die. Quite a lot of women use it to kill their husbands.”

You nod, and let it disappear in your dress sleeve.

That night, you ask Thordís to serve the ale, to which she happily agrees.

You and Ubbe take your seats when the men walk inside. They are talking and laughing with each other.

Two guards close the doors to the Great Hall before they can even get a look at you.

When they do, their laughter stills.

The things you chose to wear tonight were intentional. After you were raped, you threw the dress away, but you kept the jewelry because you didn’t want your father to suspect something.

It was the first time you’d worn them in three months, the pale stones that hung heavy around your neck and ears. Your dress had been picked out carefully by Thordís and your crown was the one Harald had had made for you when you were born.

You know you radiate power.

“Sit.” It isn’t a question, but a cold command. They are all pale now, their confidence diminished. A guard pushes the ringleader in the seat across from you. Ubbe wants to jump up and kill them, you know that, but he keeps his composure. For now.

When they begin eating and drinking, they seem relieved. Well, their first cups weren’t poisoned. You couldn’t make any guarantees for the refills though.

Thordís goes around with a neutral expression as she refills their cups. You want to kill one of them as he gropes her, but she doesn’t say anything.

They begin dying soon after that.

Only their leader remains, not having finished his cup. You pour him a new one, setting it down at his place at the table.

The sounds of his companions must be agonizing for him as he sits there, knowing exactly what his fate will be.

“Drink.” You command him. He refuses, of course, as the screams of his companions reach a crescendo.

Suddenly, Ubbe stands up and walks across the room and punches the man in the face. He does it so forcefully he knocks a few teeth out. Then, Ubbe slams the man on the table, hands around his neck.

“You raped my wife.” He growls, his fingers closing in. You stop him and give him the cup.

The man shakes his head, begging, but Ubbe forces the ale down his throat.

You look on in disgust as the man writhes on the floor.

The moment he stills, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. You turn to see your father and Halfdan stand there, warriors not far behind.

Harald counts them, getting to six and looks at you.

“You couldn’t wait?” he asks. Somehow, he manages to sound disappointed.

“No.” you reply.

Harald roughly kicks one of the corpses out of his way as he walks towards you. He hugs you tightly, and you know this is his way of telling you that he loves you. Then, he turns to one of the guards.

“Feed them to the pigs.” He commands.

As you watch the corpses get carried away, you know that tonight, you’ll sleep a little more peacefully. For so long, you felt like you were carrying a weight equal to that of Yggdrasil, but some of that weight has been lifted and your family and husband will carry it with you now.

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