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jimmythejiver · 3 years

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For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

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carygrantsbeard · 3 years

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I have so many thoughts on that show. Almost if not all of the characters and their arcs got ruined in the end but i kept watching it because the actors are very compelling (and hot😂) and I had an attachment to the characters. So ivar is my fav I love him and you are correct that York scene is mesmerizing and one of the best things I’ve ever seen in my life Alex hogh is incredible. But ivar could have been so much better. He was supposed to be the smartest ragnarsson and a conqueror (he conquered both York and Dublin btw) but in the show all he ended up doing was terrorizing Kattegat, his wife and his brothers? I hated what they did to his relationship with hvitty. And him killing not one but two of his brothers and going against ragnars legacy is just ridiculous. His relationship with Igor made me cry it was the highlight of season6. Hvitserk and ubbe ended up being nothing characters love them but what have they really done in the end? And their relationship was ruined too. They had so much potential. Sigurd was supposed to marry a princess (king aelle’s daughter) and become a kind in Denmark. I loved bjorn and I still do he was my fav after ivar but again in the last seasons he doesn’t give af about anyone. Literally he doesn’t have not one feeling nor one brain cell. He got kind of stupid like he can’t speak 3 words without grunting what’s up with that) and he didn’t deserve none of his million wives lol. He was a bad brother too specially to ivar he ignored him all his life basically. And I hate that for some reason every daughter in this show dies? All the brothers were terrible to each other in the end it feels like succession but with axes

Omg all of THIS!!!! It honestly broke my heart what they did to ivar’s character you could tell it was because they had no idea what to do they just wanted a big bad villain for everyone to hate. And the trope of a random woman (freydis) being the reason why a man goes insane bc she manipulates him is SO OLD !!! Ivar is literally a strategic genius he never would’ve fell for that 😭 Like you said in real life their history was WAY more interesting and the show should’ve been about how they all manage to conquer and make their place in the world in different ways! Instead of just killing each other and have the same Ragnar VS Rollo dynamic repeated . The show made me read about their history which only made me angrier sjdjfjfj and same for Bjorn!! I love them but it would’ve been more powerful to see them overcome their differences. And for Bjorn and his total of 1738399329 wives, I suppose they wanted to show him fulfill Ragnar’s dream of polygamy. 🤦🏾‍♀️ Don’t get me started on all the girls dying lol I lost it when they killed my baby Asa ☹️ like why did they kill all of Bjorn’s kids.. Also for the actors yesss sbdjfjfj Alex hogh is kinda my biggest obsession rn actually 🙈 He’s an amazing actor like all those micro expressions the vulnerability etc I could watch him all day <3

#succession with axes BSBDBXBXBX #also thoughts on Floki’s arc ?#asks

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

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The World Over

Genre: Vikings/GOT Crossover Fan Fiction

Rating: MA – violence, language, strong sexual content

Summary: Ivar the Boneless and Daenerys Targaryen find themselves unlikely allies. But each has something that the other needs to get them what they want. He has the tactical skill to take her all the way to Kings Landing. She has the dragon army that will give him all of England, possibly Norway. Will they be each other's savior or demise?

A/N: I have been writing fanfiction for years, but I lost my muse. I finally found it again in Alex Høgh Andersen. I am obsessed with him and his character, Ivar.

In my perfect world, Ivar would be on Game of Thrones. This is my attempt to fix the horrible ending to one of my favorite shows and these two worlds together.

My timelines for both shows are NOT accurate. They are not meant to be – I have to do a lot of finessing to make everything turn out the way I want it to.

With that, I hope you enjoy.

Ivar The Terrible

The voyage from Kattegat to England took roughly three weeks by ship. Twenty-one days seemed like a brief time passing for the Great Army, led by Björn Ironside and his brothers, to travel from their home to kill King Aelle of Northumbria.

Early spring had brought minimally choppy waters. The weather was warm enough during the day to require the Viking horde to only require wool and leathers, and at night, light furs.

The gods had blessed them with only two small storms during their entire voyage to the land of the Christians. Neither storm had been so severe that any member of their party took ill, or any of their supplies were damaged. Odin had shown the Vikings great favor as they set out to avenge their fallen King.

King Ragnar Lothbrok was the most famous Viking in all of Scandinavia. He had returned to England the year before the Great Army set sail, with his youngest son, Ivar. Ragnar had returned to question his friend, King Ecbert, on why he had slaughtered the entire Viking settlement that had been allowed to remain and farm in Wessex.

It had always been Ragnar’s dream to farm on lush and fertile grounds, and the soil in England provided just that. The weather there was moist and the winds carried the smell of freshly turned soil. Viking farmers were destined to turn a good crop there.

Farming in Norway had grown harsher. The soil was sandy and the weather was cold. Not much vegetation grew there – not enough to sustain their ever-growing population. The gods had blessed the Northmen with the ability to grow crops to feed their livestock, and the meat from those animals fed their villages. But Ragnar wondered how long would that last? The soil in Kattegat had been turned too many times. The gods gave him visions of moving his people to somewhere more fruitful, where they could farm and continue their way of life.

But, the god Loki had too much in store for the once-simple farmer. He had grown Ragnar’s ambitions too strong. Sent him on too many raids. Forced him into making too many enemies and shedding too much bloodshed. Before Ragnar realized it in his quest for power and gain, he lost his daughter and unborn son; his wife and son, Björn, had left him and he had four additional sons with a woman he did not love.

Broken, defeated, and estranged, Ragnar removed himself from everything and everyone. And upon his return, the only one of his sons to accept him wholeheartedly was the one son he had cast away.

Ivar the Boneless.

It had taken nearly 16 winters for Ragnar to forge a relationship with his youngest son, the boy that he had tried to leave in the woods to be killed by the elements or taken by wildlife. But on the trip to Wessex, Ragnar and Ivar finally bonded. It was during that trip, that Ragnar Lothbrok was killed by the Christians, but not before he told Ivar to avenge him.

That is exactly what the youngest of the sons of Ragnar had done.

Ivar and his brothers had put together the greatest Viking army the world had ever seen to travel across the great sea to personally deliver all of those who had a hand in killing their father to the goddess Hel.

But, it seemed that Loki had just as much in store for the younger Lothbroks as the elder.

Now, all but two of the brothers' Lothbrok found themselves on separate ships heading back to their home in Kattegat. Already at sea for more than three weeks, they seemed no closer to home then they had when he set sail 30 days ago.

"You are certain we are still on the course to Kattegat?" Ivar sat perched atop a treasure chest pushed up against the left side of the langskip. He had a thick rope used to raise and lower the sails wrapped around his arm to help keep him grounded to his spot. "We should all be enjoying a tall horn of ale by now!" Angry that he was unable to get up and walk around the vessel, Ivar rolled his cold blue eyes at the thought of spending another day on the ship.

He would never tell any of his fellow Northmen he was uncomfortable and the cramped conditions of sailing did not fare well with his legs. The weather was miserable. There was a dense fog that seemed to surround each of the ships making it virtually impossible to see any other vessel.

It had rained for the last five nights and four days. This was not just any rain. It was a freezing rain – like little blades of razor-sharp ice slicing through the air at your face, neck, and hands during the night. The weather during the day wasn't much better with the ferocious thunderstorms that pushed half of the sea into their boat.

Running his hands through his dark brown hair, Ivar squeezed the water from his long ponytail that hung at his shoulders. Trying to ignore the rain and saltwater dripping into his eyes, he sighed and clasped his hand around the arm ring given to him by his father. "Ragnar, show us to land soon," he said quiet enough so no one else could hear him.

He flexed his fingers, which were pruned, in his black half gloves. He was soaked to the bone. The heavy fur coat he wore did little to keep him warm, it felt as though it was just washed in the ocean itself.

Ivar was tired of being wet. His coat was wet. His blankets were wet. His clothes were wet. His boots were wet - if he did not remove them soon, he risked getting foot rot. The food was wet. Even his stools were wet, courtesy of inadvertently drinking saltwater.

"When I kill Lagertha and become King of Kattegat, I will no longer go on raids. I will send others to raid on my behalf," he said matter-of-factly, to no one in particular. "I no longer enjoy sailing."

A soft chuckle came from behind him, "Ivar, you are the youngest brother. You have almost no claim to the throne," Ubbe said putting both hands on Ivar's shoulders. Leaning up to whisper in his brother's ear, he continued, "Besides, do you think you deserve the throne after what you did to Sigurd?" With a good-natured double pat, Ubbe stood up and balanced himself as he walked over to the edge of the ship, untied his pants and relieved himself over the side. Still unable to bring himself to express his true disgust at Ivar for killing their brother Sigurd, Ubbe swallowed the hurt.

"You are aware that will blow back on all of us? Hmm, Ubbe?" Ivar said rolling his eyes. "All this wind," he circled his finger in the air to show his brother how strong the winds were blowing. His face held annoyance when Ubbe shrugged, suggesting he didn't care if his brother got pissed on. Ivar turned his head. "I have just as much claim to the throne as any of you. I am a son of Ragnar."

Looking at his brother, as he turned and smiled, Ivar admired how much Ubbe resembled their father. Their oldest brother Björn was the spitting image of Ragar, save the color of his golden blond hair. That hair color he inherited from his mother, Lagertha. But, Ubbe, looked he could have been Ragnar's twin. He had the same bright blue eyes, the same long dirty blond hair. Looking at Björn and Ubbe there was never any question that they deserved the name Ragnarsson.

His other brother Hvitserk looked like their mother, Aslaug, with his green eyes and blond hair. Even if he wasn't the spitting image of his father, resembling Queen Aslaug and her family, the family that was the hero Sigurd and the shield-maiden Brynhildr, was enough to make all of the young maids in Kattegat want to bed him.

Ivar never paid attention to his brother Sigurd to figure out if he resembled either of his parents. To him, Sigurd was a non-factor. Even with his disdain of Sigurd, he never meant to kill him. It was a mistake. Sigurd should have shut his mouth and stopped tormenting him so. Reminding him of Mother, with the strawberry blonde hair and the cleft in her chin, but saying such awful words. Those words would have never come from Mother’s mouth.

Then there was Ivar. He looked nothing like either of his parents or any of his siblings. While all of his brothers had been some shade of blond, Ivar had dark brown hair. His eyes were blue like their father's but a different shade. Ragnar's eyes were almost the clear blue of ice melting after a thaw, where Ivar's were the deep blue of the lakes of Norway. But the thing that made Ivar stand out the most from his brothers was his inability to walk. Ivar learned to get around by crawling, dragging his legs which were bound together, behind him. He was also the angriest and cruelest of his brothers – he harbored a pain that not even he understood. He never fit into his family; not in looks, abilities, ideals…

"The throne should go to the strongest, and best suited to rule, Ivar." Ubbe reminded Ivar as he pulled up the waistband of his britches. "That is Björn or have you forgotten?"

"Björn does not want it. He just wants to sail around the world and search for warm places," Ivar spat out.

Shaking his head, Ubbe returned to his seat using his legs to wedge himself into the corner of the ship as it continued to rock from side to side. "It doesn't matter. If he refuses, then I will take it. I am the next oldest. Then Hvitserk. Then you, Ivar. You have to wait your turn," Ubbe was careful not to mention his little brother Sigurd. That pain was still too real.

"Hvitserk?! Hvitserk is more fit to rule over Kattegat then me?" His voice rose an octave at the absurdity of the suggestion. “And you think you’re stronger?” Why couldn't his brothers see him for the born leader that he was? Why didn't Ubbe, of all of his brothers, the most sensible and reasonable one of all, understand that he would make the best ruler? "Or I could just kill you all now," Ivar said, taking his dagger out of its boot sheath so he could clean his fingernails.

"Might be easier when we get off these boats," Ubbe mocked. "That is if Odin doesn't take us all first."

"You don't want the throne, Ubbe. Neither does Hvitserk. He just wants to bed every girl from Northumbria to Kattegat." Ivar shook his head, frustrated with his brothers' lack of ambition. They should be more excited to get Lagertha off of the throne. She killed their mother, "Now that we have avenged Ragnar, I will get my vengeance for Mother. And when the throne is empty, it is up to one of us to take it. None of you want it. So, it is mine."

"If it is Odin's will," Ubbe said, before laying his head back and closing his eyes. There was nothing left to do but try to sleep. This would be another day left up to Odin for the crew to find their way back to Kattegat.

Njord, the god of the sea, was not finished toying with the Great Army. Until he was, there was nothing they could do to get their ships back on course.

Ivar narrowed his eyes at Ubbe. He loved his brother, but it infuriated him that Ubbe did not believe him. Ivar was going to be a King. He could feel it, and he didn't need a Seer to confirm what he already knew. The gods had favored him. He had been chosen, and when it happened, he would make everyone that doubted him pay.

A woman woke up from a dream with a start. Panting heavily, she wiped the sweat from her brow and sat upright in the bed. Pulling all of her long burgundy hair to one shoulder, she closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. She took a moment to touch the amulet on her chest and found herself relaxing slowly.

Placing her feet on the soft rug, she strolled over to the chair to collect her robes. The thick red robe was made from a blend of lamb's wool and cotton, with fur from the dire wolf to line the collar and cuffs. She put the robe onto her naked body and slowly fastened the clasps. Stepping into her red leather boots, he looked at herself in the glass that rested by the washing bowl on the table.

She looked as calm as she always did. But, inside she was shaken. The Lord of Light had given her the most peculiar vision. She wasn't exactly sure what it meant – that much had not been revealed to her. But she knew that there was a change about to happen in the Seven Kingdoms that did not bode well for her charge, Stannis Baratheon. Holding her head up high, she turned on her heel and exited her chamber.

"Ah, Melisandra, we were just making plans for our departure tomorrow," Leaning over a table with the sepia map on top King Stannis looked into the red eyes of the red woman standing in the doorway. "Come, tell me your thoughts on us traveling this way south?"

Ser Davos Seaworth, a tall man with balding grey hair, shook his head and huffed. He hated this plan. He hated how much Stannis had changed. But, most of all, he hated this Red Witch. "My Lord, we should rethink staying at Castle Black. The winter's gonna get harsher. Your wife and your daughter…"

"I'm thinking about my wife and my daughter!" Stannis yelled, cutting Ser Davos off, furrowing his heavy brows in the process. "Winter is coming and they can't survive it here. Castle Black is no place for a child. The horses are dying. The men are freezing and hungry. We have to move south before we lose the entire army – that is if those things don't kill us first!"

Calmly strolling over to Stannis and placing her hand on his arm, Melisandra lifted her red eyes to meet his. "My King, the Lord of Light has shown me a vision. It is not exactly clear to me the meaning or how exactly it means to play out, but I do believe Ser Davos is right. We should not leave this place." She moved slowly walking behind Stannis to stand on his left side. "Something or someone is coming from a land far away. Whatever this is, it threatens to change everything in the Seven Kingdoms."

"I have made up my mind," Stannis said slamming his hand on the table. "We leave at first light!" With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Melisandra and Ser Davos alone.

Curling his lip slightly at her, Ser Davos dared to ask, "You know how I feel about your visions. But, if it is something that will hurt Lord Stannis, I need to know."

Melisandra shook her head, for she could not quite articulate what she saw in her dream. "I cannot answer that as of yet, Ser Davos." Her vision had not given her enough to formulate coherent sentences. All she knew was it had something to do with a towheaded girl, a man with fierce blue eyes on the ground like a serpent, and dragons. She walked around the table and headed toward the door. "Just know, that the night is dark and full of terrors."

A/N - The first two chapters are a little slow. They are needed backstory for my timeline. Also, I’m a bit wordy...I talk a lot! Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the tag list.

Thanks!

@a-mess-of-fandoms @oddsnendsfanfics @waiting4inspiration @simsadventures @chipster-21 @tgrrose, @alicedopey @ariesxslytherin, @funmadnessandbadassvikings @poisonous00 @grav3yardgh0sts-blog @ietss, @sununicornann, @we-are-only-halfway-home93, @thelastemzy, @ajxlawley, @inforapound, @dreamlesswonder86, @cornishdawn-blog @becacosta 27@weirdestmentalityphilosopher, @naaladareia, @alexa4040 @nyx-daughterofchaos98, @moonlightsspirits @the-jess-life@laketaj24; @lostinthoughtsandfeelings; @naaladareia; @oqueequesentes-borboletas; @pokeasleepingsmaug, @synnersaint, @skadithegoddess @blackcoffeeand @greenteaformeplease @ultra-nina-bella @dina-m16, @fumblingthroughchaos @tiyetiye

#ivar lothbrook #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #viking fanfic #Viking GOT crossover fic #GOT fanfic #danerys fic #alex andersen #Alex hoegh #alex høgh andersen #aha #baby daddy #shannygoat #The World Over #ivar's heathen army #ivar the terrible

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easilyaddictedin123 · 7 years

Text

Clashing of Wilds and Blood

Once again a huge thanks to @holy-minseok for the encouraging words, your my motivation!

This can also be read on AO3 : http://archiveofourown.org/works/11465187/chapters/25705545

PT1: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/162841562811/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT2: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/162902440496/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT4: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/163344208916/clashing-of-blood-and-wilds

PT3 (Pride)

“So this fire has blue flames, does it not?” -Maude glanced back as you sighed , you’d been dreading this exact moment- “Need I remind you that it wasn’t just you that was burned the last time you played with this fire.”

“You do not, I was there Maude, I remember what my father did to him.” you hissed back at the woman in the calmest tone you could muster.

It had been heart wrenching, you’d slipped away in some of the nights before Aelle was actually keeping a look on you and in turn you’d met Joseph, he was a stable boy, poor, and beautiful. His hair like fire and eyes the color of the forest leaves, freckles on his nose and when he smiled he had dimples. He’d been so kind, so loving, and gentle. He didn’t deserve his fate that when Aelle discovered you’d taken him to bed, the loft in the barn had never been so devastating than on that night. You’d been dragged down by your hair with a mere shift on, by your ‘father’, he’d paraded you in front of his men speaking on if you were going to act like a whore he might sell you out like one. The threat had been empty but what wasn’t was the moment Alfred had been dragged down too.

Your maiden honor had been stripped from you by a man who wasn’t your husband, worse by someone that King Aelle couldn’t coerce into marrying you for their allegiance, and to keep the kingdom from knowing “their princess is a wench” Joseph was put to death in the courtyard while kneeling on muddy ground with your screaming to hail him into his death. He didn’t cry out to you, he didn’t beg, simply let himself be thrown about and his head taken from his shoulders all on account of loving a foolish girl. You weren’t that girl anymore. The fire had burned your fingertips but consumed poor Joseph and you didn’t want that upon another person, Northman or no. You’d long learned your lesson.

“A hard lesson but you need to remember it, you tread on thin ice Little Lamb and I only hope that you do not stand as it crumbles beneath you.” Maude always meant well but you couldn’t help but wondering if she saved all her allegories just for when you were enjoying yourself or was that her natural state of being?

“I walk on no ice, there’s nothing between he and I in that way. He just wants to learn about the Sins and who knows maybe I can convert him?” It was a thin and measly lie but she didn’t call you upon it.

Time had fallen upon evening feast while you spoke and she picked a different dress not covered in dirt and dust and gravy to keep you meeting King Ragnar’s son. Say what she will on keeping secrets from your betters and peers but there was a curious part on how carefully constructed Maude could make lies when protecting you. How did she know what dresses to use perfectly to cover your arm’s bruise? How did she know to get dust off the back of your neck and hair before you even noticed it was there? Your mother had only been in her affair with King Aelle for a few months before leaving and the handing you up to him. Was it in any way considerable that she learned all this from a few months of passion between two people?

It didn’t matter to you once she yanked upon your hair, “Are you even listening?”, a sheepish grin crossed your features as you began to fiddle with the red dress’ sleeve. “Och, of course not. I said that Aethelwulf won’t buy you going to the kitchen the whole day. Say you spent half the day there then came here for stitching.”

Before you could even protest that there was nothing to show that you had been stitching she took a finger and with a needle pricked you, the sharpness and sudden hurt made you yelp like a child, then she handed you a plain white stitching already halfway done. Taking a moment to work on it the blood had seeped into the fabric to mimic an accident then she bandaged the finger.

“I’ve seen desire kill one of my charges, I’ll not see it get you beaten.” Her thumb brushed tenderly over the cut on your bottom lip, “Now, time for you to sup with your kin.”

It hadn’t taken long to get to the feast hall, the table already filled with more food than the four of you could possibly eat with an irked Alfred. You sat next to him with your ever present mischievous smile that now caused your lip to throb, Alfred’s irritation melted into slight concern but you simply ruffled his hair in play, turning to the feast you clasped your hands together in prayer. It was a short thanks to God for his generosity to your family’s feast and you were all too happy about that because not a second later your stomach released a rather unladylike growl.

Judith laughed lightly at it and as always Aethelwulf glared despite your redeeming table manners, “ How was your day, I didn’t see you after this morning.” The pathetic excuse for politeness used as interrogation of your whereabouts.

“I went to the kitchens, Lily always has some sweets set aside for me.” Judith chuckled at you.

“Those dresses won’t grow with you dear sister.” You gaped at the woman, she was Ecbert’s lover but Aethelwulf was still her husband and not too forgiving of her antics.

“My dear sweet sister don’t you know I pray upon my knees for not a single gain of weight.” The innuendo not lost on her as she chuckled and shook her head, “After the kitchen I went to stitching with Maude, pricked myself something painful to and messed up the fabric.”

You displayed the finger that had the slightest red tinge to assist in the smooth lie, Maude was your life saver. Super passed in relative ease, as much as was expected at least, and upon Alfred walking with you down the halls you were ready for the demands.

“You promised I could go with you.” He sounded more hurt than angry, “You got hit for it, didn’t you? And don’t lie telling me you just ran into something.”

“Oh, Alfred you are too clever for your age.” You ruffled his hair much to his pinched face of displeasure, “I’m sorry that I can’t take you to see the Northmen, we’ll just have to wait until your grandfather gets here. He’ll let you meet them no doubt.”

The answer soothed him as he walked you to your room. The four walls were cold despite the bed and fire, the room bare but filled with ornaments and tapestries hanging on the walls. You just sighed and shrugged out of the clothes, unbecoming of you to sleep in nothing you pulled a sheer nightgown on and slid in bed, intent on dreaming away the occasional throb in your lip and even the bright blue eyes inquisitively looking at you. The rise of sleep cascading gently down on you made you sigh in gratefulness, nothingness and quiet cradling while you willingly fell into the dark of it.

You expected to not dream, you hadn’t since you were a child after all, not the sound of waves lapping against the grainy sand under your bare feet. The breeze was dancing through your hair, tossing whichever way it pleased, while the sun was warm but the chill pressed you upon the ground of having goosebumps yet not needing a cloak. The air was crisp feeling your lungs and birds sang while there were creaks of boats somewhere with the laughter of children. You couldn’t see them. You could see the bank and the farm and trees rising with the cliffs. All of it familiar and not at all.

A child ran by, a girl with blonde hair, that grabbed your hand and tugged you into a run; she was small to be so strong while she pulled this way and that. You were passing the farm and going into the trees where it was dark and soft greens played against vibrant browns.

“Where are we going?” Your voice sounded far off and seemed to echo but the girl only giggled you hadn’t noticed she’d already let go of you as your feet carried after her in curiosity.

She spoke in some language all the while twirling about with you desperately trying to keep up and almost falling off the cliff if you hadn’t looked down. It was a sharp drop into water far below but she hovered above it looking at you expectantly and waved you to come over. You shook your head and instead of running off like you’d expected her to do she simply sat on nothing looking content to wait.

The dream didn’t shatter or fall from under your feet instead you just sat up with the odd sensation of wanting to run. Not in fear but just to run. To feel the muddy sand under your feet or taste the cool air despite it being summer. You shook loose the thoughts and lingering sensations to be met with a cool room and a purple dress. You slid it on over egear at the idea of teaching Ragnar’s son about sin. It was better than spending the day in the castle with a heinous, temperamental, self entitled-

“I hope you’re not talking about yourself.” Maude’s crooning voice sounded from the door as you struggled with your back lacings, “You’re up rather early, my lady.”

“Of course; I’m off to see Nobody.” You grinned at the name, if lying was a sin then you wouldn’t lie.

Nobody was what Odysseus had called himself to keep the cyclops Polyphemus from calling to his comrades. Seeing as how you didn’t know his name then your new student would be called Nobody until he got exasperated enough to actually tell you his name. He was being smug because he didn’t know how impatiently patient you could be, a contradictory of course but if you could get under his skin just enough to antagonize him it might force him into telling you.

The guards were asleep on their feet as you had two apples, one balancing in the grip of your teeth and a wine skin of water courtesy of Maude, and slid by them with ease thankful that your antics had made you quiet. You had learned your lesson by getting too close to Nobody in attempt to wake him up, instead you made loud clacking to sound that you were in the room. He didn’t sit up but one eye did open, seemingly uncaring of your being there.

“Good morning, I’ve got you an apple and then we can get to talking about Sins.” You had to admit to the excited sensation and impatience in your chest.

He groaned and rolled onto his side, away from you while you jutted your hip out, “Or I could take my breakfast and just let you beat your head against the wall in frustrated loneliness.”

You could feel him roll his eyes before turning back to you, “And why do you think I am lonely?”

“Because you asked me yesterday to come back and talk about Sin. You could have easily dismissed me.” A sly grin slid across your face at his scowl, “So Nobody-”

“Why Nobody? I do have a name?” Ivar partly growled and huffed.

“Do you? If you tell me I’ll call you by it.” At that he huffed out a laugh and you smiled.

It was a small sound but still pleasing to the ear while he shifted about to let you sit by him and give him the apple that was bitten into with a loud ‘crunch’ to echo of the walls. Odd that they didn’t seem as cold as your room’s had.

“You said sins, more than one?” You nodded thinking of which one to speak of first.

“Seven and we’ll talk about Pride today. Pride is to think of yourself high than others, and to -”

“But you are higher than others, if you are higher.” He didn’t let you finish, “How can you not have pride in what you do or how it defines you from the rest of people?”

“That’s why it’s a sin, you should be humble in getting recognition.” He raised an eyebrow, “Do you not know what humble is?”

“I’m not an idiot, woman, I know what humble is.” He snarled out at what he took as an insult, “It seems foolish not to want to take claim on what you’ve rightfully done. If you are not proud of your death or what you have done in life how do you know what your accomplishments are worth?”

“That’s the thing though, your accomplishments of good are weighed against those actions of evil like stealing from others.” You watched him mull about in his mind, blue eyes drifting off on their focus.

“If you’ve conquered and take what is yours though by right is that considered your evil?” Ivar sounded amused at the look on your face, “After all whatever you conquer now becomes yours does it not? Taking lands from those who had it before you like your kings would do in war. Is that not evil?”

“Well, yes but”-

“Then are you all not guilty if you have taken the land that you stand on. Even you? After all this belonged to someone else and now you claim it as home and hearth.” He grinned leaning back and taking another bite of the apple, it’s juice running down his chin.

It was your brief thought to lean forwards and...no that’s not a good place to go, “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Though you can be forgiven by God for any sin.”

“You conquered this land, no? It had its own people, its own Gods but yours came and took it. You put up odd houses with your bells and take pride in that you are ‘spreading’ the word of your God. Is that not taking pride in a sin you committed of taking land, or accomplishing that you took what was theirs?” You eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

“I think I liked you better when I had to guess your name.” He laughed and you thought it was peculiar to be captivated by such a simple sound, higher than you thought it’d be, and though it took pleasure out of mocking you perhaps it wasn’t so bad.

“Then shall you guess again? Or am I to turn your words upon yourself.” Ivar’s eyes were slow in taking you in, under the words you might have had to clear the lack of anything in your throat.

Ivar was certain he’d been in here far too long despite how short of a time it might be. He was able to admit to a small degree that he was going to enjoy turning things on yourself but he hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Nor expect to enjoy the pale morning light shining into his dark hole that made all the brighter by your being here. Not the sweetness of an offered apple that he took from your hands. He could smell lavender lingering on your skin and wondered how close you’d let him if he moved a little. Ivar could easily blame it upon you being the only one to even dare to look in here.

“You are odd.” You tilted your head at that, “You see my legs but yet you don’t stare or laugh at it.”

“Well you are a North-”

“Viking. The word is Viking.” He offered, tired of the Northman title.

“Viking. Well you are a Viking and it wouldn’t be in best interest to make you want to throttle me. Besides they’re just legs. I’ve seen worse.” He scoffed.

“I’m serious. I’ve seen a man with no eye. And a woman without either of her legs. At least you still have yours.” You teased, “You can still feel can’t you?”

Ivar shifted now uncomfortable, “I think I liked you better when you were guessing my name.”

He parroted back and you blushed but nodded agreeing on talking of different things and of Pride. It was to a point infuriating and worse still? Some things that he said made sense, some tales of his Gods made sense and you couldn’t help but find similarities between the two.

“Do you have any brothers” at the question he groaned, you snickered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“They’re all a pain.” Laughter came easy around him, bruises lessened and rooms became warmer.

“Do you play games, besides weapons I mean?” Ivar enjoyed your eagerness in your questioning.

“Do you besides your stitching?” He cocked his head and you grinned.

“I play chess, I’m rather good at it.” You boasted proudly, him smirking at how you’d just sinned on your own without thought.

“Think you so? I could beat you.” Ivar took amusement and the snort that escaped you.

“You could try. In any case I suppose I should at least bring the board here to prove myself.” You stood up rather excitedly and walked to the door.

“Woman.” You turned before opening it, “Did you not sin of pride at how good you are at chess?”

The thought washed over you and for once in his company you felt heat on your face. You looked down thinking over something to say before the tale of your mother came to mind.

“God forgives all.” and with that you left for the chance at beating him in chess.

Ivar watched you leave, the dress trailing behind you as it flowed, there was something to the way your h/c locks shifted through the movements it must be soft. He found a small part of him thankful that you’d not been caught or perhaps you lied well enough that you wouldn’t be beaten again. He begrudgingly admitted to himself what he’d never do allowed, your company both soothed and infuriated him. The ringing laughter was agreeable to his silence that paraded in the room leaving him to thoughts. The wide eyes of fascination about the simplest of things, the soft sounds of interest. Those were deadly to the ears, the hum of questioning or the rolling ‘ah’ of understanding.

There was no denying the beauty that graced you but it was difficult to fully grasp at the fact that you were enraptured by his world as he was with the way you lived as yourself. Suffocating in your own home, bursting at the seams for a small filter of fresh air into your dank life and how silent you could be slipping in and out of shadows. The soft hands that had seen nothing but needlework, could they ever threaten a weapon? You walked back in with a smile and a checkerboard willing to play a game.

The game was slow, planned, a challenge, the soft ‘tak’ of moving pieces made you grin, “I’m going to win dear Nobody.”

“That so?” He put you in check to which you bite your lower lips, something about the movement was appealing.

“Your pride will be your downfall.” Moving out of check forced him into checkmate, “I won.” He scoffed but had a grin on his face.

“Tell me more of your home, this Kattegat.”

“It’s a trading post with boats coming in and docking. The flourishing is made by wares and the Longhouse where the thrones sit are filled with the slaves going back and forth for anything you could ask. Not unlike your servant woman.”

“Maude, she’s my keeper or at least that’s what she keeps trying to imprint in my head.” You chuckled, “All the while she is torn of encouraging me or scolding me and I don’t understand her half the time with her speaking in riddles.”

“I know someone that she might be like, save that he’s a little more...more.” You couldn’t help the snicker nor notice Maude leaving wine in the room as you fetched it for the two of you.

Wine was a wonder of the world, the way it made your mind hazy the ease it cause and the lack of control it helped spin. Such a drink helped to the moment where you were curiously looking over Nobody’s hands. They’d ended in your lap as you pressed against the rough skin, feeling the callouses under your fingertips.

“They’re rough. Rougher than a soldier's I’ve touched those before, why?” You questioned turning his hands and looking at the small scars and tracing lines.

“They’re the hands of a sinner.” He chided carefully and you chuffed at the thought, you had sin on your own hands and yet they were not as rough nor were the men’s hands in the castle, “I go to the smiths, the buckles aren’t kind either.”

The smile was soft and gentle that played over your lips. When had you gotten this close? He wasn’t sure and found it humorous that you were holding and inquiring over the hands that could strangle you with ease, these hands that would be dripping in red with your kinsmen from a raid. What would you think of them then? Would you run and hide from him? You weren’t like the shield-maidens of his home, no your hands were more like a royals. Small, smooth, dainty.

These hands could never kill, "Yours are soft, what do they do?” “Perhaps they sin too, more gently than yours but sin is still sin.” You looked up shyly from under your eyelashes at him- “They’re pricked by needles.” -his finger pressed gently on the wrapped pointer finger.

“They sneak around on walls no doubt, and play chess. But they couldn’t hold an axe or shield.” He now examined your hands just as intently, tracing the lines on your palm with callouses dragging against the skin.

“No, but maybe one day a bow?” Ivar shook his head, blue eyes like the sky after a storm flickered up to you there was something there, something vibrant and fierce in them made you pull your hand back.

‘Too close to the fire and it will burn, too close.’ You cleared your throat resting your hands back on your lap.

“You said there were seven.” You raised an eyebrow, “Sins.”

“Yes. We’ll speak of Gluttony tomorrow, won’t we?” Why had your voice gone so hoarse?

“Another game too.” The noncommittal hum from your mouth had you already trying to plan the next day and talks of Gluttony.

Even then you were hoping there was a way around warming your hands against the fire that was burning hot enough to be blue in it’s hue. Burning like his eyes. Burning.

‘Would it be so bad to be burned?’

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar's heathen army #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless imagine #vikings #Vikings imagine #sister wives #multi chapter #oh boy man this is gonna take forever to get where I want it to be #it is so hard to not just leap into sin #i'm learning restraint by not just leaping head first into smut #i'm doing very well #but there will be smut #no doubt #there will be tears #hopefully #i'm gunning for tears

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goldentailedmermaids · 7 years

Text

Laure watches Vikings 4x18

OMG HARALD PRINCESS!!!! She is beautiful and seems to want to avoid him. I guess she doesn’t want to be pressured into marriage and be harassed by the king.

Also, I am disappointed Aslaug wasn’t Harald’s princess. It would have made more sense and would have been more interesting.

Why do y’all insist to share women???? DO YOU SHARE STDs TOO??? (okay but read this regarding the Magrethe situation. It is very insightful.)

At last! We finally get to see more of Magrethe’s personnality! Tbh it is the first time I see her as a real human being.

Magrethe is soooooo beautiful as a bride!!! I loved the wedding! AND THE RACE OMGGGGG!!!

LMAO HVITTY IS SERVING DRINKS!!! And Sigurd who behaves like an ass as well as Ivar! OMG I love when the two youngest gets along well! I live for this! This is so cute! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Damn! The vikings really had some good hair extensions! HOW DID MAGGIE’S HAIR GREW SO LONG IN SUCH A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME???

Oooooh Harlad and Halfdan are threatening innocent princess who wanted to be left alone and avoid harassment from them! And Harald who said he loved her! He rather wants to possess her imo... He needs to talk with Harbard abt this; “possession is the opposite of love.”

Isn’t the howl supposed to be in the bird nest on Laggy’s hair? I mean, since there is a nest, you might as well use it for the right purpose.

Also, why does she always insist to have the howl??? What does it means??? Is she suddenly Athena or something? Why can’t we go back to cat lady Lagertha? I miss cat lady Lagertha!

OMG I WANT A GIFSET OF LAGGY AND ASLAUG WITH GOLDEN MAKEUP!!! IMAGINE THEM GALS PALS WITH THEIR FACES PAINTED WITH GOLD AND SACRIFICING PPL TO PLEASE THE GODS!!!

I am convinced that the only reason Laggy took Kattegat is that she wanted to sacrifice people.

Okay so we’re back at slutty Bjorn banging his mother’s lady love while said mother is sacrificing the handsome guy who wanted to die straight up. Bjorn is a disappointment and I wanna throw up. Do we even needed this? I mean, was that really necessary??? Did we really needed gratuitous sex scenes as shock value??? Can’t Hirst figure out something else???

Okay so the sole purpose of that catch star was to just have his name credited to bring more watchers... Damn, the rating must be very low then!

I love how Lagertha knows Astrid was banging Bjorn! Like, yeah! Women can stab you in the back too! Shockers!

SIGURD’S MANE OMGGGGGGGG!!!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

AND HELGA WHO HIDES HER FOSTER DAUGHTER’S EYES TO AVOID SHOCKING HER!!!! Helga you are the real MVP! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Bjorn, just because you have a valid point, it does not mean you have to behave like an asshole about this.

Bjorn is being a precious diva! And if he could stop saying ‘my father’ that’d be great. Like, yeah we get it! You spent more time with Ragnar than them because he abandonned them right after Paris. Doesn’t give you the right to behave like an asshole about it.

Bjorn is trying to assert dominance. Too bad it is not effective on Ivar and his other brothers! Bjorn is being so ridiculous compared to their apparent calm 🙄 🙄 🙄 Only the weak are being loud. The strong can assert their dominance without a sound.

OMG BJORN THEY ALL KNOWS!!! YOU’RE SO FUCKED!!!! CUT HIS BALLS TORVI!

I love how aloft Astrid is now! And fuck! She is so beautiful with her new haircut!!!! ❤️

AT LAST! Judith’s sister speaks!!!!

So now what? Judith is a nurse? Why does she cut Ecbert’s meat as if he was too old for that? God this situation is so creepy!

OMG AETHELWULF YES!!! YOU TELL HER!!!!

OMG AETHELWULF IS CRYING AND I AM CRYING!!!!! BAETHELWULF NOOOO!!!! YOU DESERVE LOVE! 😭 😭 😭 If only Kwenthrith was still alive!

I CAN’T BELIEVE ECBERT IS NOT TELLING HIS SON HE LOVES HIM! What a dick! He only sees his son as a pawn!

The GHA is there and I am thirsty for action and just like that, THEY CUT IT!!! THEY FUCKING CUT THE BATTLE!!!! WHY??? TO HAVE MORE TIME OF BJORN BANGING ASTRID??? FUCK YOU SHOW!

I love Ivar’s entrance! I could almost picture him doing his Theoden and making the same speach as the king to his Rohirrims 😆

Awwww Sigurd’s threatening his father in law with his axe! What better occasion to know the in laws better than a blood eagle! You get to know everything about them. It’s like they open to you in such a way you even get to know what they last ate.

Floki’s makeup is on point! The man could have a make up channel on Youtube! Also, his lines in that scenes are pure gold and I loved it!

Aelle is begging. At least Ragnar had dignity when he died. I’ll sort of miss Aelle. He was a great character.

WHAT??? LAGERTHA HAD A THREESOME WITH TORVI AND ASTRID??? OMG! It’s like she is getting back at Bjorn 😆

Old man Ecbert is in bed with a woman twice younger than him and I am grossed out.

#vikings #vikings spoilers #anti lagertha #aslaug x lagertha #for the win!

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ofodinn · 7 years

Note

Vikings

Send Me a Fandom and I’ll Tell you || Anon || Accepting!

the first character i ever fell in love with: Bjorn

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: Rollo

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: Bjorn and Thorunn/Porunn

my ultimate favorite character™: Ragnar Lothbrok

prettiest character: Lagertha

my most hated character: Either King Aelle/Aella or Rollo, to be honest. Aella for obvious reasons but Rollo really really pisses me off. I absolutely love the Rollo’s I’ve written with here, but if Rollo ever gets forgiven for what he did and how he broke Ragnar, I am fucking done.

my OTP: Lagertha/Ragnar. Do you really need to ask?

my NOTP: Lagertha/Rollo. I hate that ship or non-ship with every bone in my body

favorite episode: Probably Blood Eagle. I have special love for when Lagertha is revealed as Earl Ingstad.

saddest death: Ragnar

favorite season: Season 1

least favorite season: Season 4. There’s parts of 4A I like, but ugh overall.

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: Rollo and honestly, Gisla. Again, I love the adaptations of the characters on here, but I can’t handle the whole oh I must fuck everyone important over and I hate hate hate hate bitchy female characters. Gisla started out as someone who could have been a strong female but they quickly turned her into a nag. I like her in small doses, just like Rollo.

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: Ragnar

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Ragnar

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: Ecbert/his Bathtub

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Bjorn/Torvi

#lol people are going to hate me #oops #Anonymous

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teamivankaye · 3 years

Photo

Fan Fiction: The Missing Scenes in Vikings 4x18 ‘Revenge’ Chapter 1: The Last Battle (Note: This fan fiction is based on a thorough study of the character and extensive discussions with King Aelle’s actor Ivan Kaye. It aims at filling the gap left in Vikings episode 4x18 ‘Revenge’ , much to King Aelle’s disadvantage, between the start of his last battle and the dragging. Although the scene at the pit does not allow to do Ivan’s own vision full justice, as much of it as possible has been integrated. Character and actor both deserved a better treatment than breaking King Aelle without showing how that could happen and giving it the time it would have needed to get him there by torture. I hope this text and the upcoming chapters will partly make up for this huge flaw.)

Like the waves of the ocean, the Northmen came rolling down the hill towards King Aelle‘s much smaller troops while he stared at them as if he had been paralyzed. This was not a revenge expedition – this was an invasion force! Neither man nor God would be able to save him, his people, or his family now from this gigantic flood of thousands of savage heathens that was about to engulf him with his men and to sweep them away from the face of the earth.

If God‘s omnipotence was a lie, then would there be a Paradise in the hereafter? He looked right into the gaping abyss of a blind, deaf, black eternal void.

„O Lord“, he thought with a glimmer of hope in the midst of deep desperation, „if this is part of a higher plan and our sacrifice is needed for our eventual victory, then so be it!“

Finally, when the first warriors came into the reach of his archers, a shiver went through King Aelle‘s body and broke the spell. Grasping the reins more tightly with his left hand, his right reached for his sword. Gliding swiftly out of the sheath as if it had a life of its own, the weapon seemed to merge with his hand, becoming an extension of his arm. The familiar weight infused the king‘s body with new strength and gave him confidence.

They would not win this battle, but they could still set an example for the rest of their kind to win the war, inspired and enraged by Northumbria‘s fate. And he would buy his men in the rear time who had orders to hurry back to the castle and save his family and as many of the others as possible in the event of a defeat.

Forcefully, King Aelle thrust the blade towards the sky and swung it above his head in a circle.

„For Northumbria!“

His voice reached far into the back rows as his battle cry echoed back through hundreds of throats like thunder, towards the overwhelming numbers of the Northmen. The archers stepped forward, thinning out the first rows of the dashing attackers, but the masses behind them just ran over them. When they almost reached the base of the hill, King Aelle straightened up in his stirrups, sword raised towards the sky once more, signaling the attack to his cavalry. A moment later, he charged down the hill on his warhorse, leading his men into his last battle.

His blood rushed through his veins, buzzing in his ears, and a surge of energy enlivened his body in a way he had not experienced it for a long time as he looked for their fiercest warrior. It was clear how this battle would end and the best thing he could hope for was to die honourably, fighting for his kingdom. Swiftly mowing his way through their lines towards the warrior he had determined to be his best chance for a glorious end, King Aelle was quickly cut off from the rest of his army and surrounded by the enemy. He lashed out with his sword fiercely but the mobile Northmen ducked down, evading his forceful blows and whenever he brought a man down, three others emerged to attack him.

He was still at a good distance from the man he had selected to be his last combatant when his shield-bearer went down beside him, exposing the king‘s left side to the assaults of the enemies. For the moment, the wide reach of King Aelle‘s arms and his dangerous blows kept the Northmen at a distance but the battle frenzy was not strong enough to override his advanced age for long. While the king started to feel the weight of his sword as his arm slowly grew tired, the sound of his name reached his ear if with a strange accent. Panting from exertion, he turned his horse around in order to gain more space when the stallion suddenly reared up, just to break down on his hindquarters. One of the heathens must have managed to wound him but the king had no time for further thoughts as he lost his balance and crashed backwards down to the ground.

For a moment, the brunt and pain of the impact left him breathless and numb but his instincts kicked in fast enough that he managed to roll sideways, getting out of the way of his falling horse. He lost his helmet in the movement as the strap had broken. Hastily, King Aelle tried to get back in control of his limbs, groping for his sword half-blinded by black and white dots blurring his vision. He had just struggled to his knees when he heard a gruff voice in the hoarse accent of the Northmen roar his name again, almost instantly followed by something hard hitting his forehead on hairline level. His world went dark.

#King Aelle #Vikings #Justice for King Aelle #Ivan Kaye #History Vikings #Fan Fiction #The Last Battle #4x18 #Revenge #fan fic #fan fic writing #Filling the Gap #Great Heathen Army #The Missing Scenes

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