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a-smile-hides · 4 years

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A QUEEN - I.R.

Sum: Best friends Ivar and Y/N lie in a meadow not far from Kattegat. In your childish innocence you share your dream future. But in life, you can’t always have your dreams…

Warnings: mentions of an abusive relationship, fluff, some time jumps

A/N: Because I am in need of a cute and soft Ivar… He is a bit out of character but who doesn’t like a cute Ivar moment. This one is based on the “who would you be”-scene from Shrek. I just love that moment. Furthermore, this one is long. Like too long. But as you may know, I’ve been sick this past time, and I figured out that writing while you’re sick is impossible… Because then you get this. Haha, but still: enjoy! xxx

---

The sun tried her best to shine through the grey clouds that prevented her from warming the ground. Not that it bothered the two children who were lying on the grass not far from their hometown. The cold wind that blew through the grass tickled their faces, but they stayed where they were, looking at the grey sky above them.

Both were exhausted from running towards this place. Well… at least one of them was exhausted from running, the other had to crawl his way through the mud and dirt to get to this meadow. But he didn’t mind. Ivar was used to this. For some reason, the Gods had decided to let him be born with two useless legs. Two legs that prevented him from walking or running. They held him back from standing up tall like any other child. Only some time ago, his brothers would pull him through the streets with a small carriage, making him go as fast as the wind. But now he had become too big for that. Now he had to drag himself to the places he wanted to go.

Next to Ivar, lay a girl. Only a year younger than him.

Your eyes closed, a thin layer of sweat still visible on your forehead. Your chest went up and down with every deep breath you took. When you woke up that morning, you had almost forgotten about your best friend and had run as fast as your little legs could carry you from your home to this beautiful meadow. And when you arrived, Ivar was sitting in the middle of it. His eyes starred daggers at you and his arms were crossed over his chest. Completely drained of your energy, you had lifted one finger, silently telling him to wait for a moment so you could recover your breath.

“Work on your condition, girly.”

Playfully, you had rolled your eyes at the young boy who now smirked up at you. He had given you that nickname ever since the two of you met. It had been a very sunny day, and your mother had just given you a gorgeous new dress. You were over the moon with it and had run through the streets of Kattegat to show it off. Twirling and dancing around. Until you bumped into a boy that was only a few years older than you, called Ubbe. He was pulling along a carriage with a small boy inside of it. You had fallen on the ground due to the colliding with Ubbe, making your new dress a bit dirty. And apparently, that was the most hilarious thing the young boy in the carriage had ever seen. His loud laughs echoed through Kattegat as you stared back at him with an angry scowl on your face. Brushing the tears out of your eyes, you had stood up and cleaned the dust of your dress. But before you could scream at that small boy, your mother had intervened. She knew who you were talking to. And she knew better than to let her daughter speak her mind to the youngest prince of Kattegat. To the queen’s favourite son. She had grabbed you around your waist and lifted you up, taking you with her while you kept repeating that the small boy was a ‘meany’ and that you were wearing ‘the perfect dress’. The small boy, who you later found out was called Ivar, had only snickered, before his brother had dragged him off to his other brothers.

You had bumped into Ivar a few times after your first meeting. And each time it ended with him snickering and you screaming that he was ‘a meany’. And even thought it didn’t look like you were friends – with all the bickering that kept going on – for some reason the Gods made sure your paths crossed.

Now the two of you lay beside each other, looking at the grey clouds. Ivar had picked some of the grass around him and had spread the pieces all over your hand. Then he started rubbing the pieces over your skin, ignoring your sounds of confusion. Even when you had asked him why he was doing that, he didn’t stop. He merely shrugged his shoulders and answered: “I am a prince. I can do what I want”. But eventually, Ivar became bored and just rested his hand on yours.

While Ivar was close to falling asleep, your mind was full of thoughts. Smiling up at the sky, you decided to share them with Ivar. “If tomorrow you woke up… and you would be someone else. Who would you be?” you wondered out loud.

Ivar groaned out, “No one.”

“No really. If you could pick and just be whoever you want to be. Who would you be?” You urged him, looking to your side. The young boy next to you groaned again, opening his eyes.

“It is impossible for that to happen. So, I would still be myself.” He grumbled.

You gasped dramatically, before rolling onto your side. “You are no fun at all.”

Ivar ignored your comment and continued staring at the clouds above him.

“I would be a princess. Then I can wear pretty dresses!” You admitted dreamily, “I love my daddy and mommy. But I don’t want to be a farm girl. Hvitserk says they are stupid.” You frowned.

Ivar snarled, looking at your saddened face as you mentioned what his brother said. He felt anger creep up on him and he groaned again.

“Hvitserk is stupid.” He said through his teeth.

You giggled at his words. “You cannot say that! He is your brother!”

At that, the young boy sat up, looking at you over his shoulder. A smirk was plastered on his round face. “I can say what I want, girly.”

---

The sun was shining brightly as Ivar crawled his way to the only place that never failed in calming him down. The meadow had changed over the years. There were more flowers, the grass had grown a lot and it looked like one of the little trees – that randomly grew in the middle of it – had grown a lot. Ivar was grumbling under his breath, thinking about his brother Sigurd and how, one day, he might actually throw an axe in his direction. As he neared the meadow, his eyebrows shot up once he saw you sitting in the middle of it, next to the group of trees. Never had you arrived earlier than him.

The meadow had been your and Ivar’s special place. A place where the both of you could complain about the lives you lived. Where the both of you could be who you truly wanted to be. A place where you could dream big.

And each time, Ivar was the one who had to wait until you finally arrived. But here you were. Playing with a flower, plucking its petals off, and letting them fall into your lap. You hadn’t noticed him yet, it seemed as if you were lost in your thoughts.

“Hey girly!” Ivar yelled; the smirk grew wider on his face as he saw how you jumped up at the sound of his voice.

You let the flower fall down in your lap as you saw him near you, crossing your legs you leant forward a bit.

“There must be something terribly wrong with you” Ivar said once he was beside you. You watched how he placed his legs in front of him, leaning back on his arms. You sighed out, shaking your head a bit. Every time, the stupid man saw right through you.

“Got stuff on my mind.” You breathed out.

Ivar nodded his head, looking in front of him. The wind blew softly against his skin, cooling him down. As Ivar looked back at you, he saw how the wind let some hair escape out of the braid your hair was in. Ivar rolled his eyes, grabbing the clip keeping your hair together and forcefully pulling it out.

Your hand shot towards his to stop him, but it was too late.

“Iva-ar!” you complained, your voice sounding a bit higher as the hair clip pulled some of your hair out. Ivar frowned for a moment, but when he saw you roll your eyes at him, he smiled cheekily and dropped your hair clip back in your lap.

“You look better like this” The two of you mumbled simultaneously. Ivar’s eyebrows perked up.

“Always the same excuse.” You muttered, shaking your head. “One day your hair will be too long, and you will have to braid it too. Then you will know how annoying this is.”

Ivar ignored you and simply smirked back at you. You let out a breath and lay down on the soft grass. Chuckling, Ivar started picking at the grass and letting the green pieces fall down on your hand. But before he could start rubbing the little green bits over your hand, the same question you always asked him, but never really got an answer to, stopped him.

“Why do keep doing that?”

Ivar breathed out, watching you closely. Your eyes were closed, and a small frown was evident on your face as you hoped now you would get a real answer.

“You… You got soft skin.”

His words made you scoff. You didn’t believe his words for one bit. But you knew you weren’t going to get the truth out of him right now. “It’s not going to stay that way if you keep doing that.” With a groan you shook the grass of your hand, and lifted both of your hands towards your face, shielding your eyes from the sun. The grin on Ivar’s face made you almost roll your eyes again.

Ivar turned away from you. Placing his hands behind him to support himself, he breathed in deeply as he finally took in the beautiful sight of the meadow around him. The sun warmed his face and calmed his nerves. The hate and irritation about his brother slowly melted away.

“My father wants me to get married.”

Ivar felt his body freeze. His blood ran cold, his heart clenched. Marriage?

“To whom?” He asked.

You chuckled dryly. “Does it matter?”

Ivar turned around. You were still lying down, your eyes closed tightly. To anyone else, you might have seen at ease, but Ivar saw the pain you felt. He knew you had your eyes closed to hide the tears that were building behind them away from him.

“It does.”

“I do not know.” You said quietly, “Father has said that he will find me a suitable husband. One that could bring us all a lot of wealth.” You sniffed, lowering your voice to mimic your father’s. “One that I would bring happiness too when I give him children.”

Ivar coughed. His gaze dropped to the ground. He felt anger rise inside him. As if a beast was hidden deep within him that slowly crawled his way out. Rumbling in rage. When he heard you sniff, he looked back at you. He sighed out, calmed himself, and lay down beside you.

“You don’t want to get married?”

You laughed at him, rubbing your eyes. “What do you think?”

Ivar looked up at the clear, blue sky above him. His mind was blank. The words that had left your mouth had numbed him, stopping him from thinking of a solution. Or anything at all for that matter. The young man just lay beside you. Unmoving. Not talking. His chest went up and down with every steady breath he took. But his heart hurt as he heard your shaky breath and the sobs you couldn’t hold back. Eventually, he turned his head to the side. As your teary eyes met his, he took a deep breath in.

“Tell me…” he whispered, “If tomorrow you would wake up and not be you anymore… who would you be?”

You chuckled at his words. “Yeah, as if someone could change reality...”

Ivar grunted in frustration at your answer.

You snickered, looking up at the sky above you. Closing your eyes, you grinned. “A princess”

---

Time went by. Summer turned into winter. And winter into summer again. Many things changed. Your father eventually did find a ‘suitable’ husband in the son of the smith. A much older man who eagerly accepted you as his bride. You had to forget about your wishes and dreams in order to become the perfect bride for your husband.

Your marriage made it harder for you to keep up with Ivar, who slowly became more important. In time, Ivar was pulled out of your life by all the things that happened around him. His father Ragnar made a reappearance and shared his wish to return to England. And to your horror, Ivar went with him. This led to many months without seeing the man who you once called your best friend. For when he had returned from his trip to England, the sons of Ragnar found out their father had been killed by King Aelle. And they wanted revenge.

Your husband always kept you inside the house, never allowing you to leave. A true wife should stay inside and make her husband good food, he said. But still you tried your best to hear the stories. How they all got the revenge they wanted and how Ivar had shown great tactical skill. But also, how the brothers lost their bond and how an argument led to the death of Sigurd by the hand of Ivar. You heard about his conquering of a city called York. And how eventually, Ivar went into battle for the title of King.

A title that he now proudly owned.

It had been a few days since Ivar rode his chariot in Kattegat and proclaimed himself as King. Making everyone bow to him as he screamed at the people from on his chariot. From then on, everyone in Kattegat had been very cautious in everything they did. They didn’t know what to expect of their new King. The youngest son of Ragnar… a crippled man sat on the throne. How could they know if he was going to be a great king or not?

It was clear that your husband shared these doubts. He didn’t like the man one bit. With every opportunity that he got, he said something hurtful about “that crippled bastard”. From the moment he got out of his bed, he laughed at the thought of a thrall having to lift him out of his. As he walked to the table and drunk from his cup, he gloated how the new King would be never able to just roam around freely to wherever he wished. And as he looked outside to the harsh ground, he almost choked while laughing, thinking how Ivar must make his way through that. You had learnt very quickly that it was better to bite your tongue on moments like that, instead of speaking up and defending your old friend. In fact, you had learnt not to speak against him at any moment. Every time you tried to say something, and he did not like it, a handprint would be visible on your face for at least two days.

Even though your lovely husband hated the king, an opportunity to drink and eat without having to pay anything wasn’t something he would let slide. Which is why the man desperately wanted to go to the Great Hall. King Ivar had invited everyone so he could share his vision and his plans. To your surprise, your husband had allowed you to come along. Maybe it was because of the weird stares he had gotten when he showed up alone at the last feast or because of all the mead he had drunk already... You didn’t care. It had been the first time since long you had been outside.

You stood in a corner of the Great Hall with your drunk husband next to you, leaning against the wall. Everyone was laughing and drinking, forgetting about their worries. People passed you, patting your husband on the back – which made him lean even more against the wall – and nodding their heads at you. You only smiled a bit, averting your eyes as a blond thrall passed, filling your husband’s cup for the fifth time. It wasn’t because of his drinking that you averted your eyes, but for the hungry stare he gave the young girl, who cowered away in fear as soon as his cup was filled. The clearing of a throat made you and your husband look up. Your father and mother stood beside you. Your father looked disgusted by your husband’s behaviour while your mother’s eyes were only focused on you. Her worried gaze burned. You turned your body a bit, so your right cheek and the mark on it, was shielded from her. But you knew she had seen it. Giving them both the most convincing smile you could make, you took your husband’s arm, pulling him away from the wall he was leaning against.

“Mother. Father. It is great to see you both.” It had been a long time you had seen them both. Not being able to go out of the house meant not seeing anyone. Not even them.

“It is great to see you as well, dear.” Your mother said weakly. The man beside you didn’t address them, his eyes still followed the blond thrall serving as many people as she could. Before your father could say something about his wandering eyes, a silence fell over the Great Hall. King Ivar had arrived.

Everyone’s eyes were on the king who slowly made his way to his throne. His brother Hvitserk right behind him. It was now that you saw that he wasn’t crawling on the ground. No. The boy who you had grown up with was walking! With a crutch and with small breaths that showed the effort he had to make; the new king walked to his throne. As he sat down on it, a smirk was plastered on his face. He looked confident and proud of what he was able to do. He placed his crutch next to his brother, who sat down on the ground next to the throne. His gloved hand went over his hair, which was braided beautifully, and looked around. He clasped his hands together, startling some people.

It was then that he started speaking. He shared his dreams with Kattegat. His plans about raiding. His plans of war. And with his big speech he skilfully made the last people who doubted him, believe in him. One for one, the frowns melted away and more people expressed their belief in him openly. Raising their fists in the air as they shouted out “King Ivar!”

Grinning, Ivar asked them to quieten down. “For now, … Let us feast!” He chuckled, lifting the cup his brother offered him into the air. “Skal!”

The word echoed through the Great Hall. Men and women lifted their cups in the air, some spilling their drinks because of their enthusiastic movements. The cheers made your husband’s head perk up. During Ivar’s speech he started leaning against you, the mead had affected him enough to make him drowsy. But apparently, the prospect of more drinks had awoken him. Before you could hold him back, he had left your side. Leaving you to go and find that poor, blond thrall. Your mother and father stayed with you, both looking at you with saddened eyes. But again, your father was interrupted right as he wanted to speak. This time by Hvitserk, who had walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Little Y/N!” he laughed out, lifting you up in the air. You shrieked as he did, causing a few people turn their heads at you. A blush covered your cheeks.

“Let go of me, you stupid!” you whispered-shouted, hitting his hands until he released you. He smirked down at you, before turning towards your parents.

“It has been a long time since we have seen each other. But unfortunately, we must catch up later…” he said smiling, “If you don’t mind, I am going to abduct her and take her to the king.”

Before your parents – or you for that matter – could utter a word, Hvitserk had lifted you over his shoulder and walked to where Ivar was sitting. You struggled against him, kicking your legs, and hitting his back to make him release you. But it didn’t bother him. When you were younger, Hvitserk would do this to you all the time. If Ivar wanted to see you and he could not find you, he would command his brother to look for you and bring you to him. And instead of asking you, Hvitserk would always lift you up and carry you to his little brother.

Once he had brought you to Ivar, Hvitserk finally set you down on your feet.

It was as if he could read your mind and see what you were planning to do. The moment your feet touched the ground, you turned, wanting to get away as soon as possible. But Hvitserk grabbed your waist, preventing you from running away. With a sly smirk, he cleared his throat loudly to get Ivar’s attention.

But the young king didn’t look up. His eyes were scanning the crowd, a proud look on his face.

“Ivar” Hvitserk hissed. Still, his brother didn’t look.

Becoming frustrated by Ivar’s lack of response, Hvitserk yelled out his name. Which – finally – made Ivar look towards his brother, annoyance clearly written on his face. But that annoyance melted away as soon as his eyes fell on you. His eyes widened in shock, and his mouth parted a bit. Blinking a few times, the young king composed himself, lifting his hand to signal you closer.

Licking your lips, you stepped towards your new king.

“We meet at last.” His voice was light and raspy, but his tone was strong. The young boy who always lay beside you on the grass, complaining about his older brother had changed into a proud and seemingly fearless man sitting on the throne of Kattegat.

Intimidated, you nodded at him.

“Are you shy? Or scared?” Ivar grinned. His finger traced the edge of his cup as he chuckled out: “Girly?”

The nickname made you look up, all the fear and timidity melted away. Resting your hands on your hips, you looked at him challengingly.

“As if… meany.”

Ivar snorted, rolling his eyes. Behind you, Hvitserk quietly sneaked away from the conversation. A smirk plastered on his face. He knew that you and Ivar had a lot of catching up to do.

Ivar looked back over the people drinking and feasting in his name. His eyebrow lifted for a second as his eyes met one man in the corner of the Great Hall. Ivar lifted his cup, nodded his head lightly and drank from his cup. You watched with a small smile on your face how the man nodded his head back in respect.

“It seems that you have finally become who you always wanted to be, king Ivar” you sighed out. Your words made him frown, his cup hovering just in front of his lips. He raised one of his eyebrows and licked his lips.

“I’ve never told you who I wanted to be.” He said, leaning forward.

You grinned. “You didn’t need to. I’ve known you my whole life, Ivar.”

Ivar smirked; his hand rubbed his face. It is true that he wanted to sit here, on this throne. To be someone. To be respected. To show everyone that he is not just a stupid cripple who crawls in the mud. However, it didn’t feel like his dream was completed. Something was still missing. Ivar looked to his left, where a smaller and empty throne stood. Awaiting Ivar’s future queen.

Ivar blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. His eyes scanned your body. The dress you wore was ragged and filthy. The dirt on your red and scarred hands betrayed you hadn’t escaped the farm life you were destined to. Your hair, for once, was down. No additional braids, no clips, or any other accessories. Just the way he liked it. But it looked messy. It had lost the shine Ivar was familiar with.

“I must say you have looked better…”

A laugh mixed with a scoff passed your lips. “Charmer.”

Ivar’s eyes stared back at you intensely, until his attention was pulled away from you by a large figure stumbling his way to the two of you. A frown appeared on his face once the man had placed his hands around your waist. Slowly, they travelled upwards towards your breast. Where one stayed and squeezed the flesh as the other kept going up towards your face. Slowly, he ran his finger over your ear, tapping on it as he laughed evilly. The sickening grin coated on his face showed how he didn’t feel ashamed of his behaviour. Your hands shot up towards the man’s, hastily pulling them away from your body. But the man fought back and put his hands back around your waist, where they stayed with your hands resting on top of his. It was then that Ivar saw the tiny silvery brown band that decorated your finger. Ivar clenched his jaw, his hand tightened around the cup he was holding.

“Wife,” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up once you heard your husband slur his words in your ear. The smell of mead on his breath made you almost gag, “Why are you still here?”

The man behind you hummed as your eyes fell down on the ground, your hands tightened around his wrist as he slowly rubbed his hands over your stomach. Even through his drunken voice, one could still hear the threat behind his words.

“You are not to be here. Leave now.” He hissed in your ear.

The whisper made your blood run cold and nod your head. Without looking back at your husband, you unhooked yourself out of his hold. Casting one last look at the man in front of you through your eyelashes, you turned around and walked as fast as you could out of the Hall. Ivar stared at the two of you dumbfounded. The girl he once knew would have never let anyone command her what to do.

Your husband snorted as he saw you hurry away, his tongue running over his teeth while his eyes scanned the hall for the blond thrall that caught his eye earlier. As Ivar realized your husband was staring at one of his thralls, he threw his cup at the man’s feet, bringing the man’s attention back to him. The two men looked each other dead in the eye. A silent battle going on between them. But before Ivar could question him, the man smiled and bowed mockingly, before darting after his wife.

Ivar glared at the man’s back. The sickening feeling that hadn’t left him since the man had stepped forward, made him feel worried about your wellbeing. Without looking up, he lifted his hand, urging one of his guards closer with his finger.

He wasn’t going to let this pass.

---

The meadow had never been more comforting than now. And yet, it felt horrible to be there. The long grass itched. The ground was cold and wet. And the soft wind that blew in your face made the stinging pain in your cheek only worse.

A sob passed your lips, making you let out a little cry as another wave of pain went through your body. Even after all this time, it seemed as if your body still hadn’t gotten used to the pain.

He had never been so mad. Never before had he been so violent. His anger fuelled by the mead he had drunk the entire evening. He had slurred his words, screaming about you acting as the king’s personal whore in front of everyone in Kattegat. As the favourite plaything of his older brother. He had pushed you around while shouting how you were the biggest burden in his life.

His words still echoed through your mind.

The loud noise of something falling down on the wet ground made you look up alarmed. You looked around, trying your best to search for the source in the darkness around you.

“It appears that you are scared of me after all… girly.” The raspy voice made you drop your head between your shoulders. You should have known better than to come here.

“Never of you, meany.” You murmured.

Ivar shook his head, lowering his body to the ground so he could crawl his way to you, abandoning his crutch in the mud. With a small groan that he tried to keep hidden from you, he placed his legs in front of him, breathing out once he felt the pain slowly leave his body.

“I have talked with your husband.” He started; his voice dropped slightly as he mentioned your husband. “I must say that you have made an interesting choice.”

You looked ahead of you while you forcefully ripped out some of the grass and flowers around you. “We don’t always get the chance to make a choice, Ivar.”

Ivar turned his head towards you. His jaw clenched as he heard the venom in your voice. The soft and gentle tone you had used before was now gone. Your brows were furrowed and your eyes red from crying. Your cheeks were stained with tears and marks from when you furiously tried to wipe them away. His heart clenched.

“What is it that happened to you?” Ivar asked gently.

The question made you halt your movements and look down. In your lap lay all kinds of different coloured petals. All of them ripped apart and scattered over your dress. As tears filled your eyes again, you pressed your lips on each other, turning your head away from him.

Ivar bit his lip and frowned at your behaviour. Frustration piled up inside of him, and the want to shout and demand you to answer grew stronger and stronger.

“I am trying here, woman.” He grunted. “This stubborn, stupid side of yours is not helping.”

You flinched at his words. An image of your husband standing over you, his hands balled into fists and his voice screaming one insult after the other, crossed your mind. Pulling your knees up, you wrapped your hands around them.

“Leave, Ivar” you mumbled.

The man beside you breathed out a dark chuckle. His voice became very low and cold. “You are demanding your king to leave?”

You closed your eyes, laying your head on your knees. You nodded your head once.

Ivar’s hands slowly turned into fists as he took in a deep breath through his nose. His eyes were closed while he pressed his nails in the palm of his hands. The reaction you gave him was not the one he aimed for. With each passing second it seemed as if you hated his presence more and more. This was not what he had in mind…

Ivar picked at the grass under his fist. At first, he ripped it out quite harshly, the sound making you hide your face even more, but with each movement his anger slowly faded away.

Then, an idea suddenly came to his mind.

Ivar looked down at his fist for a second before raising it above your hand. One for one, he dropped the grass on your hand. You raised your head, watching how some fell off your hand onto the ground. Once he had no pieces left, Ivar traced the empty space between the few pieces that had not fallen off your hand with his finger.

And you couldn’t help it. A faint chuckle passed your lips that blew the remaining grass off your hand.

“Honestly… Why is it so fascinating for you to do that?”

The question had left your mouth before you could reconsider thinking about it. But the thought had been burning in your mind for years. Ever since you were little, Ivar made it a habit to rub grass over your hand. Always ignoring your soft breaths of discomfort or the angry red marks that appeared on your skin afterwards. But never had he actually given an explanation for his odd behaviour. Ivar’s hand froze at your question, his eyes focused on your hand. He seemed uncertain whether to answer or not and just shrugged his shoulders.

You shook your head at him. “You once claimed it was because you were a prince. Then my ‘soft skin’ was the real reason why. What is it, Ivar? Do not lie to yourself. You know why.” You paused, watching how the fearsome king from a few moments ago changed back into the young boy with whom you shared all your secrets. “Do not lie to me.”

Ivar swallowed and whispered “Because… then I know you are really beside me.”

His answer made you furrow your brows. As he retracted his arm and turned his body as far away as he could from you, you quietly crawled in front of him. Bending down a bit so you could look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?”

With reddened cheeks, Ivar mumbled his response. “You say you know me, Y/N. So, you know why.” You closed your eyes, desperately hoping he was not going to say that one word. “I am a cripple. I knew it would not take long before the two of us would drift apart.” He licked his lips as you narrowed your eyes at him. “It was not the way I believed it would happen, I must admit that… Even when you now sit beside me, I still doubt it that you will stay with …” He trailed off, his focus no longer on his words or the aching feeling in his chest. But now on the big mark on the right side of your face. Your cheek had a mix of purple and blue while your chin and temple had a very angry red colour to them.

Ivar felt the anger building up inside of him again. His nose flared and a fire was evident in his eyes. Your eyes widened; you knew what he had seen. You turned your head to the side, but Ivar grabbed your chin. As you flinched at his harsh grip, Ivar let go of your chin. His hand now simply rested on your left cheek, his eyes pleading with you not to turn away from him.

“Don’t” Your mouth curved up into something that resembled a smile while you stared down at your nails, picking at the dirt under them.

“Tell me.” He demanded. His voice was soft, yet firm. “Who?”

But you remained silent. And the silence was enough an answer for the king before you. However, he wanted to hear you say it.

“Who… Y/N?” His tone was gentler this time, but still demanding.

It took you a moment to gather your courage and Ivar started to fear he had lost his old friend. This was not the young powerful girl he grew up with.

“The man whom I must call my husband.”

Ivar had almost not heard you through the sobs you desperately tried to hold back. What he had figured out already was now confirmed. He dropped his hand and chuckled darkly.

“I should have killed him the moment he came forward and dared to touch you in my presence. Even if he is your so-called husband.”

Your eyes were closed as his words brought back that awful, burning sensation your husband’s hands left wherever he touched you. Your stomach turned. Your head felt light. Yet somehow, the words and the hateful tone in Ivar’s voice didn’t faze you. It didn’t scare you nor make you fear for your husband’s life or an outsider’s reaction. It only made you chuckle. Ivar watched amused as the small and light chuckle slowly turned into laughs. And the monster inside of Ivar purred as he saw a smile appear on your face that for once wasn’t forced.

“I wish I could say that you are mad, Ivar.” You shook your head at him and looked deeply into his blue eyes. “But I can’t.”

His eyes went from yours to the bruise on the side of your face. Ivar clicked his tongue. A thought crossed his mind that made a knowing smile form on his lips.

“Remember who you always wanted to be?”

Biting your lip, you looked to the side, where you and Ivar used to lay in the grass. Two innocent children lying next to each other. One brooding and one dreaming about the perfect future. It seems so long ago now… Nodding your head at him, you laughed. “A princess”

Ivar smirked and stretched out his hand. “I cannot make you a princess, Y/N.” You laughed at his statement, nodding your head in agreement. He raised his eyebrow, making you smother your laugh and place your hand in his. Very lightly, he brushed his fingers over your ring finger. The old silvery brown ring reminded him how you were imprisoned in an unhappy marriage. Ivar shook his head, carefully sliding the ring off your finger. “But I can make you a queen. Leave your marriage and become a queen” He asked. His voice was quiet but strong, the question sounded more like a demand.

“Become my queen.”

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