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bjornswoman · 4 months

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Destruction XII

Author's note: Hello, happy New Year to you all! Sorry for being too late to post the last part of these series. However, here it is I hope you will enjoy it!

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, series, fluff, drama, angst.

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of pregnancy.

A couple of months later.

You had forgotten the sound of your own giggle the past year. However, those two last months were enough to prove you wrong and remind you that you still contained the ability to feel happy and laugh — finally.

“You can’t be serious!” You exclaimed laughing at your friend Torvi. There had been a long time since you last met each other. Actually, the last time you saw her was before your wedding.

A wedding that never really happened because Ivar decided to take you away. He had confessed that he loved you that same day as well. You could recollect the memory as it was yesterday.

Flashback – Two months ago.

“It’s not what you believe, (Y/N). It wasn’t just revenge for me. You mean a lot to me. You know I am just not good at saying those things and you, also, know that I can be dickhead sometimes. Don’t cry for me. I - I care for you.”

Ivar had said and kissed you like his life was depending on this kiss – like both of your life were depending on this kiss.

“Don’t get married, you don’t deserve being treated like that. Dump that asshole.”

You needed to hear these words back then – you needed a motive to stop that madness. After all, you didn’t love Mason, but Ivar.

You didn’t treat Mason right, so leaving him before this mistake would be the only thing you would do to save him from being miserable next to you – because of you.

“I won’t, Ivar.”

“You are mine.”

“I am yours.”

End of flashback.

“Oh, I’m and that’s not even the end of it.” Torvi continued speaking and got you out of your thoughts about that particular day. “Your mother was about to kill Hvitserk when he announced that Ivar had stolen you – those were the exact words he used.” She laughed. "Besides you know the love your mother contains for Hvitserk." You both laughed at her remark.

It was well-known that your mother loathed the sons of Ragnar – especially Hvitserk. She would call him peccant or sinful. Generally, she would criticize his way of living. Not that Ivar was her favourite brother though, but Hvitserk worked as a red flag for her.

You could picture your mother's face after hearing Hvitserk announcing that the wedding was over because you run away with his brother. You were sure long before Torvi told you about the events of that evening that she was furious – that was the main reason you hadn't even tried to contact her since then.

"What about Mason?" You hesitated to say his name after the way you treated him, though he wasn't honest to you either – as he lied to you about the events of the past and blamed Ivar about his doing.

Anyways, you felt guilt of your own lies, because you acted the very same way you accused Ivar of when you walked away on him.

"Oh well, I heard that he is fine though he and the boys are distant after what happened. He blames them for helping Ivar. Anyways, Ubbe told me that Ivar mentioned that he is after Freydis again."

You could understand the way Mason felt, but you couldn't focus on this after some names were mentioned successively.

"Ivar?" You muttered before you could stop yourself.

"Yes, Freydis told him."

You felt jealous once again about the same thing – you were back to the beginning of this messed up story. You felt weird after everything that happened the last two months in contrast with what Torvi just told you. Maybe you were just overreact, but still you couldn't bear lose again.

Maybe your love wasn't the healthiest one , but it was strong enough to swallow you if he hurt you like he did previously.

"Don't tell me you are jealous." Torvi said smiling after receiving no response from you.

"I'm not jealous of her." You fought back and she chuckled. It was too obvious that you were lying.

"You didn't really tell me what happened with Ivar after you left." She mentioned and you smiled at the memory.

Flashback – Two months ago.

Your heart was full after a very long time it felt half without him. You felt happy again being close to the person who you loved the most. Probably this wasn't the best way to come back together – not even close to be honest – but what was worth it for you was the fact that you were sitting on the passenger's seat of his car and he was on the driver's seat taking you away somewhere that only he knew.

Nobody spoke a word though – an awkward silence was surrounding the car. You didn't know what to say – you didn't know whether you had to say something or not. You knew Ivar by heart and yet you couldn't predict what was inside his head. You knew when he was mad, happy or sad, but you couldn't say what was bothering him.

"Ivar." You breathed and turned your eyes at his figure. "Do-do you love me?" Your voice was barely coming out as a whisper. It was a silly question to ask – even after he crashed your wedding and told you that he cared for you – you wanted to hear him saying this particular word. You hadn't heard him saying it – at least not to you.

"What kind of question is that? Didn't I told that I care for you less than an hour ago?" You could say by hearing the tone of his raised voice that he was getting annoyed by your question. You were aware of the fact that he wasn't good with words – especially this kind of words, but you wanted to hear him saying just for once.

"Why is it so difficult for you to say it again? Tell me, do you love me, Ivar?" You raised your voice out of frustration. You couldn't understand the reason why it had to be that hard for him to tell you about his feelings.

The possibility that he didn't feel that way came in your mind. Maybe he was just possessive when it came to you or it could be obsession the feeling he contained for you. Those could be the actual reasons why he couldn't express his love fore and that would be because it was non-existent.

"Yes!" Ivar yelled with obvious anger at you and hit his hands on the wheel.

"Yes, what?" You pressured him more as you were angry and disappointed at the time because of his inability to express himself to you – the person he was supposed to love.

Ivar hit the brake pedal so forcefully that if you weren't wearing the seatbelt you would be out of the car when it stopped. You turned your face at him and he had already focused his furious blue eyes on you.

"No, Ivar, you don't." With those last words you stormed out of his car and started walking at the opposite way from the one he was driving on. Though, you didn't get to make it far away because his hand grabbed yours tightly and forced you to turn back and face his wrath.

"What do you think you are doing? And what the Hel are you saying?" He growled on your face as you were trying to break-free from his grip to no avail.

You breathed heavily and looked his angry face.

"All you feel about me is some kind of authority and possessiveness as I'm one of your belongings." You spoke and motioned on your hand he was holding firmly. "The worst part of it is that it isn't even new to me to get this treatment from you. You don't love me, because you don't know how to and that's due to the fact that you feel that you don't deserve the love the others are trying to give you. The only thing you know how to do is hurting these people with your childish behaviour." You continued telling him with tears falling from your eyes – tears that you wiped away with your free hand.

Ivar was looking you without speaking, he was just looking at you quite shocked. Behind his anger you could spot guilt and redeem. He knew himself that you were right and that was the most painful part for both of you.

"The next one who will come in your life and try to give you the love you deserve let her." After these words, more tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You grabbed your gown on the palms of both of your hands and took a couple of tiny steps believing that Ivar would let you walk away from him – from his life.

However, such a thing didn't happen because he used the hand of yours he was gripping and pulled back – this time he held you closer to him your bodies were touching. You tried to fight back again, but he was too strong for you in such way that when he pulled you the lacework of your dress was ripped.

This time he even stopped holding your hand and he went for your throat. His grip was as tight or strong as it was on your hand, but it was firm enough to pull your face closer to his.

"Too late for that." Ivar said in raspy voice. "There is someone who has already made my heart beat for her – who have made me feel all of the things you've said before. I didn't know how it felt to be truly loved by somebody because of the problem I faced. I thought everyone pitied me – the poor cripple – until you came. You saw me what love really means – what it is – and I sent you away. When our paths crossed again, I thought that all I felt for you was just lust or possessiveness for a woman who used to be my partner. However, I got hold of my feelings – of my true feelings – after our first kiss in the bowling alley, when I called you to come to that bar to tell you about my conflict with Mason and after we got drunk and went to my house and slept together, remember? In fact, all this was just an excuse because I wanted to see you."

When he finished, Ivar let go off you throat and one of his hands touched your arm as the other when on one of his pockets. His touch was really genuine on your hand.

"I remember." You mumbled and smiled as you remembered that particular night you spent together.

"You want me to tell you that I love you, but you know that I'm difficult with words. Though, for you, I'll say it, but before I have to do something else." Ivar stopped and afterwards his hand got out of his pocket holding a red-whine velvet box.

You looked first at the box shocked and then at Ivar.

"Ivar, you don't have to do that just to prove your words to me." You tried to say, but he stopped you by taking your hand in his, after he opened the small box. As you expected, it contained a ring, but it was not just a random ring he picked. It was the ring you had told him years ago that you wanted to be the one you would be proposed with. It was a unique design which you couldn't find easily, but he did for you.

"I love you." Ivar finally confessed and you could even spot a tear on his cheek. His forehead touched your own as he eyes found yours. "Will you marry me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" He asked and you smiled widely.

At the sound of his words, you felt your heart hitting your chest with just force that it was going to rip out of your body.

"Yes! Yes, I will marry you, Ivar Lothbrok!" You exclaimed and kissed him passionately. This kiss wasn't like anything you had experienced. It was different from any other you had shared. One that both of you were expressing within it your deepest feelings about the other person.

When you stopped, Ivar pulled you closer to him again and placed the ring on your finger.

End of flashback.

After that moment that you would never forget about, you spent two months away from everyone you knew. It was just the two of you in the middle of nowhere. However, you had to return back in Kattegat to face the real life and what came after the decisions you made.

Ivar's family welcomed you back and they were glad to hear about your engagement – though they could see it coming. They knew better that you two about the feelings you shared.

So, there you were, talking with Torvi about the days that came after your almost-wedding with Mason.

Torvi looked at you with narrowed eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"And after this you are still jealous? You are crazy girl!" Torvi exclaimed and both of you laughed again. "No, I am being serious now." She said and you both burst into laughter again. "No, seriously now you are getting married with the love of your life!" You smiled and looked back at your feet.

"And that's not even the end of it."

"What do you mean?" Your friend asked confused and your smile became even more wider than it was already. "(Y/N)?" She asked you again anxiously this time.

As an answer, your hand moved on your stomach and you caressed it meaningful. In Torvi's face formed a smile identical to yours.

"Don't tell me that you...." She exclaimed and you tried to prevent her from let everyone know about your little secret.

"Shhhh, I am, but Ivar doesn't know yet. I am going to tell him tonight and then we are sharing it with the others. Keep it for me, okay?" You spoke on a soft tone of voice and Torvi agreed happily before she congratulated you about your pregnancy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night.

The night sky was very beautiful – enchanting you could even say. But that wasn't the best part of the night, that part would be the fact that you were sitting next to your fiancé, trying to find the best way of telling him that you were expecting his child as he was engrossed in with laptop with work matters. You were away for so long and matters had piled up.

"Ivar, when do you think that we should get married?" You asked him out of the blue as you stood up and walked through the balcony. Ivar glanced at you for a quick second and then turned his attention back on his laptop.

"I don't know, but we should not rush. In three to four months, what do you think?" He proposed without looking at you and you smiled, because this conversation was taking the way you wanted.

"That won't be convenient. I think that it should happen in one or two months." You continued.

"Why so?"

"I'll have gained weight. I won't feet in any dress."

Your words caught him off guard. He abandoned the computer on the coffee-table and fixed his eyes on you confused.

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked as the edges of his mouth lifted and left the sofa to come closer to you. He stopped on when his body was behind yours.

"What do you want me to mean?"

"Don't riddle me, (Y/N)." His voice was stern and you couldn't help your little smirk. "Are you pregnant?" He asked as his body collided with yours and his muscular hands hugged your torso and stayed on your stomach. Your back was touching on his chest, so you couldn't see his facial expressions. "Tell me." He demanded impatiently and you smiled.

You knew how much he wanted a child – a daughter or a son. You were also aware of the fact that he was delighted when Freydis had told him that she was pregnant in the past and thought it was his child when it wasn't.

"Yes, Ivar." You whispered and tilted your head at the side to catch a glimpse of his reaction to your news. What you saw was a tear slipping from his eye and you smiled again. "Are you happy?"

"No." Your blood froze in your veins and your smile died on your lips. You turned so you could face him. "No, I am not just happy. I'm thrilled!" He exclaimed and you felt your heart beating normally in your chest again.

His hands closed you inside them and one of them caressed your hair softly.

"I love you, wife."

You giggled when you heard him calling you wife.

"I love you, husband."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog, @anotherfan07, @heavenly1927, @zvacu-te-pile-moje

#vikings ivar #ivar imagine #modern ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar x reader #vikings modern au #vikings imagine #modern ivar x reader #vikings x reader #modern vikings x reader #modern vikings

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 months

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come.

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods.

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives.

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance.

And Ivar relished every moment.

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated.

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them.

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives.

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come.

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act.

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him.

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come.

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted.

Fucking pathetic.

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer.

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it.

"Wake him up."

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man.

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now.

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement.

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief.

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?”

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case.

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue.

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination.

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane.

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.”

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white.

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her.

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain.

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off.

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover.

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side.

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–”

Another smack reverberated in the air.

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out.

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse.

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!”

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill.

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands.

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha.

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing.

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise.

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs.

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of.

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still.

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin.

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?”

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now.

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.”

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic.

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face.

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed.

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high.

“You live!”

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence.

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?”

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim.

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them.

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real.

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm.

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest.

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side.

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out.

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name.

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water.

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket.

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn.

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?”

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number.

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief.

Someone was calling him about Kari.

As an emergency contact.

From a hospital.

Where she is a patient.

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him.

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him.

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying.

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her.

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting.

He had promised.

And he failed.

Again.

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again.

“Yes.” He croaked out.

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call.

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic.

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed.

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror.

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.”

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option.

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes.

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her.

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass.

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel.

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort.

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind.

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on.

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

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istorkyou · 1 year

Text

The Price Of Love (Modern!Ivar AU)

A Modern!Ivar x F Reader

Warnings - See individual chapters. STRICTLY 18+

Synopsis - Money isn’t everything.

Word Count - 1584

Note - This is the second fic I ever wrote and I’m not sure why I never posted it. I think I started writing The Arrangement not long after and kind of fell out of love with this one. Still, it’s been festering in my completed docs for well over a year so I figure I might as well post it 😬 It’s fluffy, and maybe a little cheesy (and by a little I mean a lot!) so if that’s your bag I hope you enjoy it!

Moodboard - The beautiful moodboard is made the magical, amazing @serasvictoria. Thank you so much xxxx

This was beta read by my aussie wife who has left Tumblr. All love, all the time Lou x

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @bragisrunes@noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree @mymindfuckery

Masterpost

CHAPTER 15

Nine months of dating Ivar. Nine months of happiness. Nine months of amazing sex. Nine month of love.

The interest in your relationship publicly has definitely reduced, mostly because the pair of you don’t go anywhere the photographers would be. Ivar has adapted to your lifestyle easily and fits into your world perfectly. You still struggle sometimes fitting into his world, but you are getting better at the glitzy parties and rubbing shoulders with the extreme wealth in your city. You much prefer it when you guys do normal things together though.

You have become friends with his brothers, they were easily won over, especially Hvitserk. He and Iris have been on a few dates and he seems besotted with her. She likes him a lot but is being very ‘Iris’ about the whole thing and is playing it cool.

Ubbe is dating someone new and, aside from cracking a couple of jokes in the beginning, leading Ivar to threaten to murder him, in a seriously scary tone, your ‘thing’ is long forgotten.

Since the ball you haven’t seen too much of Aslaug, she has been away, staying in her house in Iceland for months.

She calls you the week she gets home and she comes to visit your shop.

You bond over your mutual love of fashion. She spends a long time looking through all the clothes you stock and buys some dresses and some jewellery.

“You have a really good eye, Y/N. A wonderfully eclectic mix of fashion in stock. Have you thought about expanding? Opening more boutiques across the city?” She asks curiously.

“I have, I am hoping to by the end of next summer, I just need to make sure the business plan is foolproof, find a space, blah blah! It will be a lot of work.”

“I can help, I am always looking to invest in small local businesses…” she trails off and raises her eyebrows.

“Aslaug, without wanting to sound ungrateful, because I really am grateful for the offer, I’ve got my heart set on doing it all by myself.” You give a determined look.

“Although, if you know anyone in real estate that can give me a heads up of any suitable spaces becoming available I will gladly take that help,” you give her a cheeky smile.

“It just so happens I do know some people who could help with that. I will get in touch with them,” she gives you a wink.

“Also, the jeweller who made the bracelet and necklace you bought could maybe use some help, she’s amazing but hasn’t managed to get herself a proper workshop. If you were interested? Her name is Sadie.” You hand Aslaug one of Sadies cards which she slips into her purse.

“You are a very determined young woman, Y/N. I can see why Ivar loves you so much. What time do you lock up the shop? We should go and get cocktails.”

“Yes! I bloody love a good cocktail, come back at 4pm?”

You think you might have finally cracked the cool exterior, Ivar will be so pleased and your heart swells.

—————

You wake up early on Christmas morning and throw on an oversized hoody, before Ivar is stirring and you grab the heavy present on the kitchen counter and head to the elevator.

It opens on the ground floor and you head in over to the reception desk.

“Preston, Happy Christmas!” You shout and laugh as he jumps out of his skin. You hand him over the present.

“What’s this?” He looks in disbelief.

“A pressie, open it!” You are so excited.

He opens the present to see a state of the art coffee machine and his face lights up.

“What? Why? You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N.” His face is tinged with annoyance.

“Oh shush, you always look knackered, we thought you could use it,” you retort.

“Wow, thanks so much, I don’t know what to say.“ He holds his hands up.

“Just a gesture for putting up with Ivar’s rude ass for all these years! Are you going home to your family soon?”

“He’s not so rude anymore.” He tells you with a wink “I finish in 30 minutes,” he says happily. “Happy Christmas, Y/N, thank you.”

“Happy Christmas, have a great day. Hope the twins are happy with their bikes.” You give him a quick hug then head towards the elevator.

When it dings and the door opens Ivar is standing, with his arm above his head looking at the floor and his eyes travel up you until reaching your face and creasing with laughter.

“Will that never get old?!” You ask him in fake annoyance, he knows you find it adorable.

“Happy Christmas, baby! Did Preston like his present?” He asks, pulling you in for a big kiss.

“Yep, he was very happy,” you bury your face in his neck.

“Do you want your present?” Ivar asks with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Is it an orgasm?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Later,” he laughs out, “come on, it’s in the bedroom.”

“This is getting more interesting..” he looks back with a withering look.

“Get your mind out of my pants, filthy girl,” he wags a finger at you.

“Can I give you my present first? I’m so excited!” He laughs at you and nods.

You run to your side of the bed and pull out an envelope, skipping to him to hand it over. He opens the envelope and reads the Christmas card inside, smiling. He opens the card and two pieces of paper fall out. He picks them up with a furrowed brow, reading the words on them.

“Wha..what is this? Japan? You bought us tickets to travel to Japan?!” Pure disbelief on his face. He keeps looking back at the tickets and to you, clearly having trouble processing the information in front of him.

“What the fuck? This is too much, Y/N! We said small gifts.” His face is shocked.

“Meh, you are worth it. Are you ok? Do you want to go? I thought we could go and try some authentic sushi? Remember when I first came here?” You are searching his face for any sign of happiness.

“Y/N, this is too much. You can’t afford this.” His face still shows nothing but shock.

“I can baby, I wouldn’t have bought them if I couldn’t afford it, you know that. The shop has been doing amazing. Do you not want to go?” Your voice is small and dejected.

“Are you kidding me? It’s my number one place I want to visit! Oh my god I’m so excited, I'm just in shock, baby. Thank you! Thank you so much. I’ve never had a gift like this before.” He pulls you in for a crushing hug, kissing you all over your face and neck until you are swatting him away.

“Do you want to open your gift?” He asks excitedly.

He walks to his drawers and pulls out a big black box with a giant gold ribbon tied in bow. He hands it to you and sits close to you, watching your face intently as you undo the bow. You lift the lid on the black box and pull out a red box that you recognise. It’s one of Sadies.

You look at him and his face is so earnest you give him a kiss.

“Open it,” he urges you.

You open the box and inside is the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. It has three platinum chain mail chains twisted round each other all joined together with a diamond on each clasp. It has a round platinum pendant on it, around the edge there is an engraving and in the middle is a beautiful, green stone.

“Ivar……” you look up at him, your eyes misting up.

“I need to explain it!” He is like an excited puppy.

“I designed it, with a little help from Sadie. It’s platinum and diamonds on the clasps..” the look on his face is one of pure amusement, you can’t help but laugh at him despite wanting to act offended, a clear call back to the unwanted bracelet he gave you.

“The circle of the pendant represents my never ending love for you,” his face changes from amusement to seriousness.

“The engraving is the date I first laid eyes on you.” You bring it closer to your face to read it.

“The date of the merger party.” You tell him, with a big soppy smile on your face.

“And the green sapphire in the middle is the exact colour of the blazer you were wearing when we met. I knew from that very moment you were the one for me. Forever and always.”

You don't know what to say, your eyes well up with tears.

“Do you like it, Y/N?” He asks nervously.

“It’s the most beautiful, thoughtful present. I love it.” You wipe your tears of happiness and kiss him. “You can't tell me off for the gift I got you, this must have cost a fortune, Ivar,” he just shrugs and grins.

“I left a space on it for another engraving. I am going to get it engraved with the date I ask you to be my wife.” his voice is smaller than before and his face is red with a blush. You gasp at his words and pull him close for a cuddle.

“Just for future reference, I will say yes.

THE END - thanks for reading :)

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thepaperpanda · 1 year

Text

Affected By Music || modern!Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: Although Ivar dislikes the Christmas songs you listen to, you somehow convince him that they're not that bad.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1435

Authors: Rouge & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: enjoying the Christmas music

You sat at the table, trying your best to cut a neat Christmas tree from the thick, green glitter paper you held in your hands - the task was far from easy as the paper was thick enough to be difficult to cut through, even with the kitchen scissors. You were listening to Last Christmas by Wham! from a radio playing quietly, standing on the windowsill. Throughout the song, you weren't even aware you were rhythmically rocking your foot.

"For Fuck's sake!" Ivar yelled, walking to the radio and turning it off.

Since the morning, the song had been drilling into his brain - he was sick of it. "I will throw the radio out the window if I hear this cursed song again."

After his outburst, you stopped cutting the shape in the paper. You rolled your eyes and said, "Don't be a drama queen today. It's Christmas time! Cherish it! Christmas songs are all over the radio right now in the end, so better get used to this."

"Sweetheart, I see what you mean, but Christmas is only like two days, right?" Ivar looked at you annoyed. "And they start playing this shit on repeat a month before. It's annoying."

"It's not annoying," you replied, putting down the scissors and paper. When you got up, you walked to the windowsill and turned the radio on once more. "... but the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special," the song was crooning on the radio.

In a frown, Ivar pulled out the plug to make sure the radio wouldn't play again. "I'm serious Y/N. I'm tired of hearing this song everywhere."

Leaning forward, you pulled the plug from his hand and reconnected it. "That wasn't fair! Why are you always so angry and grumpy?"

"Because it's annoying. When I'm annoyed during a game, you tell me to put on my headphones," Ivar commented. "And I do it because I respect you, so it's your turn to respect me as well."

It annoyed you when Ivar acted like that, and unfortunately he was prone to it quite often. "There's no comparison between the two. Whenever you play your games, you become nervous and show your worst traits. I respect you, but it also goes the other way, doesn't it?"

"So you can open Spotify and put on headphones, sweetheart," Ivar said with a wry grin dancing in the corners of his lips.

It hurt you to hear Ivar's words; you had worked hard to create a festive atmosphere in your shared flat, and Ivar had never been so wry toward you as he was now. "Whenever the weather cools down, I can't wait to hear Christmas music. I even listen to it in the summer when I craft or while I read, because I like this type of music, but if you don't like it, I'll switch to Spotify," you said, unplugging the plug and putting it down on the wooden floor. As you returned to your seat, you got your JBL headphones, put them on, and paired them with your phone.

It was just a stupid song and you acted like you would be locked up in the house, so he rolled his eyes.

While he was happy that it was quiet again, you started humming whatever you were listening to soon after.

You hummed with a smile; your notes fell carefree in the air around you as you were rocking your feet again, this time shaking your head from time to time.

As Ivar let out a heavy sigh, he walked towards you and placed his hand on your back before leaning forward to kiss your lips.

The reaction was unexpected for you, but you returned the kiss. You looked at your boyfriend after removing your headphones. "What was that for?"

"To stop you from humming that cursed song," he raised an eyebrow after explaining.

After exhaling, you made a sad face and rubbed your temples. "Ivar, Ivar." You stood up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice before returning to your seat. After setting the glass on the table's counter, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know what?"

As Ivar wrapped his arm around your waist, he muttered, "What?"

You began singing and rocking your hips from left to right, "Last Christmas I gave you my heart..."

"... But the very next day you gave it away," he sang along, shaking his head. "You are an annoying brat, you know that?"

You rubbed your nose against his and reminded him, "This is exactly why you fell in love with me."

"Honestly? I'm not sure if I did the right thing," he said with a sigh, furrowing his brows a little, smirking as he looked down at you.

You climbed on your tiptoes and stole a kiss from his lips, discovering with amusement that his mouth and tongue tasted like the gingerbread you baked the other day. While humming the song, you asked him playfully, "Not too much frosting on the cookies though?"

"Shut up," Ivar scoffed, wrapping his arms fully around you. Slowly, he began to rock with you, humming the song along. "They were a bit sweet."

"Despite their sweetness, you ate them all," you giggled, rubbing his nape.

"Yeah, but I'm sure I'll get sick of their sweetness," he joked.

While you rocked to the beat of the music, you nuzzled his chest and listened to his strong heartbeat.

Before saying anything, Ivar rocked with you for a moment. "I'll let you listen to those annoying Christmas songs if you keep being so cute."

"I will listen to them even if you will be angry with me," you said. "The sweeter you are, the more I would like to apologize to you."

"You're a brat," he sighed and squeezed your hand tightly. "Turn on that radio before I change my mind."

After clapping your hands, you immediately went to do what he told you.

He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping you wouldn't actually turn it on.

Soon, Jingle Bells filled the room with its rhythm and you began bouncing around to the music.

Facepalming, he already regretted that he let you turn the radio on.

Your arms reached out to catch his shoulders and soon you were dancing with Ivar.

As Ivar's hands moved down your back and rested on your ass, he murmured, "I'll never understand why people may consider all those silly, thematically similar songs during Christmas time. They are so fucking annoying!"

"Once the Christmas spirit fills you fully, honey, you will stop finding them irritating and you will realize they are sweet and they help spread that spirit all over," you told him, wrapping your arms around him.

"If you say so," Ivar shrugged lightly, but when Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You played on the radio, he closed his eyes and hissed. "No, no, not this fucking one! Sorry, Y/N, but you'll never convince me Mariah isn't annoying. Can you hear this voice? It's so shrill!"

After observing Ivar's reaction, you giggled and tugged on his thick, dark hair, causing him to raise his head, enabling you to kiss his jawline. "I have a little, angry kitten here, haven’t I?”

A sigh escaped Ivar's lips. "We could do something nice together and I'd be happy to let those songs play in the background. What do you think?"

"Ivar, what do you have in mind?"

Smirking mischievously, he tugged at your shirt. "Don't make me beg for it, you know too well."

Obviously, he meant some cuddles with a "happy ending", but you had a cunning idea. I'm sure you'll help me bake gingerbread again to compensate for the fact that you've eaten all of it apparently, and I promised Hvitserk that I would deliver a portion of it to him this Christmas."

Slowly, Ivar's eyebrows rose, and he grunted deeply. "Oh, okaaaay! But later you're mine, in all the fucking ways. And fuck Hvitty, his only ability is to eat all the time, fuck.”

Your lips were tinged with a smile. "That's true, but it's so sweet in my opinion."

"That's cute in your opinion, but you scold me every time I eat anything you cook! And you somehow don't make heart-eyes while speaking about it!” Ivar seemed to get offended.

Ruffling his hair, you asked him to follow you to the kitchen. “Let's stop talking and start baking or I’ll sing All I Want For Christmas Is You all day long!"

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nothingtolosebutweight · 1 year

Text

Title: Final Masquerade Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund (Modern AU) Other Characters: Mention of Bjorn, Ubbe and Hvitserk - Sigurd got one or two sentences as well :D Words: ~8100 [AO3] Warnings: Insults, Bad opinions about gays, Swearing, Heartbreak, Angst, Hurt Summary: After the death of Sigurd, Ivar had only one task. To approach the investigating cop, get information about the state of the investigation, and distract him. He always did his job well, was proud of that too, but this time he had done one part too well. He had gotten too close to the cop named Heahmund, infecting himself with something he didn't know how to deal with along the way, which was slowly destroying his self from the inside out.

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

He felt sick.

Not only since today and also not only since yesterday. The feeling that something was wrong with him had been tormenting Ivar for quite a while now. It wasn't just a runny nose or a scratchy throat. With such things, he could have easily coped. No, it was much worse than that. Much more fatal. This particular disease ate its way torturously slowly through his insides and, judging by recent events, began to affect his entire existence and sense of self as well.

Since his early childhood, Ivar knew what it felt like to be sick. Ever since he was able to consciously perceive the world around him and put it into perspective for himself, it was clear to him that his body was different. Weak and sickly, not as resilient as the bodies of his healthy brothers.

However, this newly appeared disease was worse for him, harder to bear than his constantly aching legs. At least that's how it seemed to Ivar, because, unlike the impairment of his lower body, which he now considered normal, he was not used to it. Pain was his constant companion, and to many, it might seem strange, but he would prefer even worse pain over his current condition any day. What people might forget was that he had painkillers for his legs. He could take them and within a few minutes, the aching would become more bearable. He could also wrap himself in warm blankets or rub some herbal oil into his scarred skin there. Over the years, he had picked up a few tricks to make his life more comfortable, but with his recent problems, Ivar wasn't sure if there was any cure at all.

Everything had started about a year ago when he had been asked to do what he initially thought would be a simple job for the so-called family business. The contagion went unnoticed and insidiously until it had infected his entire body. Step by step. The more he became aware of it, the more it freaked Ivar out. There was nothing he had experienced so far that could explain these silly symptoms.

It had started with an accelerated heartbeat, which led to sweaty palms and a feeling of fever that kept creeping across his cheeks at the most inappropriate moments. His stomach reacted in the strangest way as well. It felt as if he had eaten a battery that still emitted electrical impulses from time to time. Even his lips were affected. They twisted into a smile more often than he would have liked, and he had also caught himself chuckling inanely, although what had been said had not even been funny. It had simply overtaken him, without his consent.

His once so clever and rational mind was also infected, if not to the highest degree. It felt as if maggots had taken up residence in his brain and were now cheerfully eating away his intelligence. This led to him catching himself saying stupid things or thinking of even stupider things almost every day. In the past, he had been able to concentrate on his work for several hours without any problems and had developed clever and, above all, successful strategies with which he had made a name for himself in the family business. But those days seemed to be over, because concentration was no longer so easy to achieve today. Every time Ivar tried to concentrate on his work, his thoughts would wander. They always revolved around the same topic, which really shouldn't be as important to him as it had become over the last months.

His relationship with his brothers was also marred due to constant quarrels and heated discussions about how he should handle the matter. But what did they know? After all, they didn't feel what he felt. They didn't know what it felt like for him, who had always been so level-headed and determined before, to feel so lost and helpless. Torn in a way. Being at the mercy of something intangible was tugging at the image he had of himself and, above all, wanted to maintain. He was no victim, no one to be ordered around, only he found it increasingly difficult to remain true to this image.

Everything just sucked - and not in the way he liked it.

Some time back, he had seen a documentary about a parasite that had made itself at home in the brain of its host and had taken over all its movements. The poor creature was doomed to spend the rest of his life as an empty shell, no longer in control of his body. It had become like a zombie and that's exactly how his situation felt to Ivar at times.

He was controlled from the outside, like a puppet hanging by strings or a moth magically attracted to the light without being able to do anything about it. The light source was its holy grail and so often its doom at the same time.

It was the same in his case.

His light, around which he thoughtlessly circled, went by the name of Heahmund. Heahmund van Sherborne to be more precise. He was both his holy grail and downfall.

Heahmund was the trigger of his symptoms, which his brothers had already quite quickly categorized under the non-medically versed diagnosis - love.

For a long time, Ivar had vehemently resisted this insinuation and had repeatedly emphasized how ridiculous this claim was. Every time his brothers started talking about it, he had become angrier at how they could accuse him of such a dumb thing. They should know him better. He was convinced he was not able to love, nor did he strive to do so. He used people for his own benefit, made them dance according to his will. That's how things worked out for him, and with Heahmund it shouldn't have been any different, since the cop was only supposed to provide useful information.

Back then, after Sigurd's sudden death, things in the family business had been a bit out of joint. The police, who usually never came too close to them, were suddenly investigating, asking too many unpleasant questions. Heahmund, one of the lead investigators at the time, had been particularly nice when he had questioned him - simply as a family member of the person who had died in such tragic circumstances. In the process, it had been impossible to overlook the fact that he had triggered a weak spot in the cop.

So, out of pure calculation, Ivar had crept into Heahmund's life. More and more often, he had visited him in his office for trivial matters, perfecting his role as a grieving brother who needed some comfort, a shoulder to lean on, and some distraction in the process.

He and his brothers always had to be one step ahead of the game. It wasn't just a saying that it was best to be close to your enemies. It worked in reality, too. Perhaps too well in his case.

That Heahmund would fall in love with him had never been the intention. Ivar never made plans that played on emotions. They were too uncertain as a basis and he knew too little about them himself - back then at least. Now he knew too much, carried too many of them around with him.

Ivar found little comfort in the fact that he had done his job too well. The grieving younger brother, searching for justice and a sense of purpose in all the tragedy was certainly one of his best acting performances so far. Little did Heahmund know that Ivar did not care at all about Sigurd's death. It was only important to him that the background that had led to his brother's demise remained hidden. Therefore, of course, he had taken advantage of Heahmund's blinded heart. The man, who was a little more than 10 years older, had voluntarily given it into his hands. Who wouldn't have used such a great foundation to his own advantage?

Of course, it hadn't been easy to play along at first as their interactions became more intimate. It had definitely been a challenge to appear sweet and in love when he was around Heahmund. After all, he had no experience with love and how people should behave when they are in that silly state. In addition, it had cost him quite a bit to overcome the first tender advances, to allow closeness and still smile and not murder. But apparently, he had done his job well, or Heahmund had just really bad taste in partners. Whatever had caused his triumph, he had managed to keep up the facade, and one day the facade had unexpectedly transformed into reality.

Now Ivar felt like he was living in a fever dream from which he hasn't woken up yet.

That he would make a fool out of himself and also fall in love had surely also not been on his agenda. He certainly couldn't have foreseen it, and even if someone had prophesied it to him, Ivar wouldn't have believed them. It would have seemed too absurd to him, and yet it had happened. He had fallen head over heels in love with the handsome cop and it was the worst and best feeling at the same time.

It was also a feeling he tried to hide from everyone except Heahmund, as he was already struggling to admit it to himself. To acknowledge it in front of others, to admit his failure - in his eyes - he was still miles away from that.

On weekends, and actually most other nights, he now preferred to stay at Heahmund's house on the outskirts of town. It was quiet there and the view was fantastic as well. His rational mind would like to consider these points as decisive, but of course, he preferred to spend his time at this place because Heahmund himself was present there. If not in person, then at least in all sorts of details that made his home his home. Ivar felt comfortable there, almost like at home.

In the moments when Heahmund trusted him enough to leave him alone in his house - sometimes getting them something to eat or having to leave urgently due to a job-related emergency - Ivar at least managed to remember his actual plan of looking for information about the Lothbrok case. It had been easy to figure out the password for Heahmund's private laptop. For being a police officer, he didn't necessarily protect his private data very well. Ivar had had more problems with the work laptop, but with the help of Ubbe and Hvitserk, he had been able to hack into it without leaving any traces as well. That's where he had gotten most of his useful information so far.

Toward his brothers, he felt a little better after such deeds, because he could justify his constant absence more easily. After all, he had achieved results by spending time with Heahmund, and he never grew tired of emphasizing that this was thanks to his tactics and sacrifice. Nevertheless, they kept accusing him of self-interest, of being in love with Heahmund, and Ivar also never grew tired of vehemently denying these accusations.

In front of his brothers, he tried to maintain his cool and emotionless facade. Every time he returned to his real home, he tried to pretend that he was glad to finally be back. By now, Ivar had become quite the performer among his brothers. He made a spectacle of taking extensive showers, as if he had to clean himself from all the touches he had suffered. At least that's how he told it, not shying away from making fun of Heahmund and his feelings for him in the process as well.

Every time he exploited Heahmund's trust in this way, and especially when he spoke so badly about him behind his back, his heart ached and he simply felt guilty. It was no longer easy for him to fall asleep right away, because he was probably experiencing what others call a guilty conscience for the first time.

None of what he told his brothers was true.

Of course, he enjoyed being with Heahmund, usually could hardly wait to get back to the outskirts after a short time apart. Just listening to Heahmund talk about the most mundane things had become special to him. It soothed him, made him feel at peace in a certain way. Heahmund gave him a serenity that Ivar hadn't previously known he needed in his life to balance his aggression. This man had such a wonderfully soothing voice and so much knowledge in his handsome head that it was never boring just to sit next to him and listen.

Most of the time, however, it didn't stop there. Heahmund was a person who wanted and needed physical contact. He always made sure that they could somehow feel connected to each other through tender touches. He would either let his fingers dance over his back, massage his legs, hold him in a hug, or just intertwine their fingers together. Heahmund always found a way to be close to him, to kiss and caress him in the most fabulous way.

To this day, Ivar still couldn't bear hugs from other people, his brothers included - even if they were very rare - but in Heahmund's arms, Ivar could spend whole nights, sleeping like a baby without a care in the world. He had no idea what was different about them, what Heahmund did differently, but they just felt so much better. In fact, he didn't want to be without all these sweet little gestures anymore. By now, he also sought the initially hated closeness of his own accord.

The fact that he preferred to spend his time with Heahmund and came home less and less often with something concrete, because he neglected his research, led to increased quarrels with his brothers, especially with his eldest. One particularly heated argument had ended with Bjorn now forever bearing a souvenir in the form of a scar on his forehead - and rightly so.

—---------- AT SOME POINT IN THE PAST —-----------

"Wow, it's rare to see you home, Ivar. I'll tell you again, you're getting too close to the cop. You've become reckless, too soft since you developed feelings for this idiot."

Bjorn had just walked in the door, hadn't even taken off his jacket, and immediately started talking to him without being asked. Probably some frustration had built up during the days of his absence, Ivar thought.

"Welcome home, brother." There was a false sweetness in his voice. Only briefly, Ivar looked up from his laptop and offered Bjorn an equally fake smile. "No, I'm not getting too close to him, because, given the urgency of the matter, I can't be close enough. You know as well as I do that we need to know how far they've gotten with their investigation. I'm not reckless either. I know what I'm doing." It was one thing to admit to himself his feelings for Heahmund. That alone still gave him a twinge of self-loathing. To do it in front of his family, his brothers, and especially Bjorn was out of the question.

"It doesn't look like it," Bjorn answered as he approached the table where Ivar had made himself comfortable in their communal space - something he already started to regret.

"For you, maybe, but you've never really understood strategically elaborate plans either, so I'm not too worried about your concerns." Ivar couldn't help himself. He had to grin cheekily in Bjorn's face; any other reaction would simply not fit his brother's ridiculous accusations.

"Go ahead and tell yourself that, but what I saw looked pretty much like my little brother was all hearty eyes over that bastard. You should be ashamed of yourself." The disgusted expression on Bjorn's face clearly highlighted his opinion about the matter. Thankfully, Ivar didn't have to endure this for long, as Bjorn turned around and went to the fridge to grab himself a glass of some chilled apple juice.

"What are you talking about?" On the outside, Ivar remained cool, pretended to be semi-interested in what Bjorn had to say, even started writing in his open document again. Inwardly, however, his thoughts were racing. He went through all the opportunities within the last week where he had been out with Heahmund. Where could Bjorn have seen them? In the ice cream parlor in the middle of town? Had he watched them on their shopping trip afterward? Or a few days later in the park when they had met for an impromptu picnic? Or maybe he had just seen them out for a walk. In the evenings, they often went for walks together, as long as his legs would allow. As he reviewed everything, it struck Ivar himself how cheesy all these meetings - he refrained from calling them dates - had been. Perhaps he had indeed become a little careless.

"About you disrespecting yourself by kissing him, and that not just once and not just fleetingly. You clung to him like a schoolgirl in love ready to lift her skirt."

The comparison made Ivar's face grimace. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. He didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of knowing he had hit a nerve, even though everyone around him knew that an attack on his ego always elicited the best reactions. With a snort, he let the held air escape and looked up, looking right into Bjorn's face, who had now turned around again and was pointing his finger at him.

"Don't even start denying it."

"It's called acting, Bjorn. I pretend that I care for him, otherwise, I couldn't get so close to high-value information. Like the ones, I'm trying to process right now. I really don’t have time for your bullshit."

"As if!" Bjorn positioned himself in front of the table, tapping his index finger vehemently against the tabletop as if this would give his statement more emphasis. "I saw you. You don't need to tell me anything about pretending." Bjorn raised his hands and gestured quotation marks with his index and middle fingers. "It looked zero like you didn't enjoy it."

Ivar laughed with a sneer. "So what? Just because your girlfriends make sad faces around you and act distant and uninvolved when you try to initiate physical contact doesn't mean that other couples can't show a little more affection. Even fake ones. Is this your real issue? You're jealous because my fake love life is better than your real one? If so, that's pathetic, even for you." Turning to insults might not be the best idea, but it was the first one that came to Ivar's mind to get out of the center of the accusations himself.

The tactic proved unsuccessful. Although Bjorn's expression turned to anger and he clenched his fists, he recognized the intent behind Ivar's words.

"Don't change the subject, you little bastard."

Slightly amused by the insult, but still more and more annoyed by the whole situation, Ivar leaned back in his chair, looking defiantly at his brother. "You accuse me that my efforts look too real? Are you serious about that? Well, maybe it's because I'm just really good at pretending. Or how else could you think that I give a damn about your opinion, huh? Because I let you believe that I care what you think, but let me tell you a secret, Bjorn. I don't. Never have, surely never will. So how about you stop stealing my time and instead you find yourself a bunch of old ladies with whom you can talk about feelings, hm?" To make it clear that he really wasn't interested in any further conversation, Ivar grabbed his headphones, but before he could put them on, Bjorn snatched them out of his hands.

"Give them back. Right now!" Ivar was on the verge of losing his already meager patience. Hastily, he tried to grab Bjorn's arm to prevent him from moving the headphones out of his reach, but he hadn't been fast enough. Because of his impaired legs, he couldn't just jump up and get them back himself either. Getting up always took a little longer for him, as he had to proceed carefully so as not to overstrain his legs. It made him angry that Bjorn had to exploit this weakness now, and instead of complying with the expressed request, his brother only chuckled and certainly didn't waste one single thought on finally leaving him alone. Instead, he leaned toward him, sniffing exaggeratedly.

"His stench is all over you, I can smell him from here."

This statement caused Ivar to roll his eyes. "Don't confuse Heahmund's expensive fragrance with the bullshit that's coming out of your mouth. Just shut the fuck up and you'll notice it will stop reeking. And now give me my headphones back!" He tried again, holding out his hand expectantly.

Bjorn demonstratively hung the headphones over the back of the chair next to him, far enough away from Ivar's reach so that he wouldn't be able to grab them from his current position. Satisfied with his little revenge, he grinned, hiding his actually upset state of mind. Bjorn hated that Ivar always managed to turn the tables, but he too knew where his brother's weak spots were.

"You've got a pretty big mouth for someone who's turned into such a pussy lately."

Now Ivar raised his hand and index finger admonishingly. "You'd better watch how you talk to me," he said in a cold voice, making it clear that he'd really had enough.

"Oh yeah, why is that?" Bjorn asked challengingly as he pushed back the chair right next to Ivar's to sit on it.

"Because I'm the one who's doing the most here. I operate far away from my comfort zone to protect all of us. Maybe just show a little gratitude, huh?" Ivar spat out and rolled his eyes in annoyance when Bjorn, instead of finally leaving, made himself comfortable.

"Oh come on. Like your comfort zone isn't between the cop's legs."

Yes, it was, but it was nothing like Bjorn seemed to imagine with his limited brain capacity. Heahmund had become like a safe place for him, and when they watched TV together, Ivar usually sat with his back leaning against Heahmund's chest, snuggled close to him, and in that position, of course, also between his legs. Quite innocently, as almost all their more intimate moments were. More than handjobs hadn't happened so far. Despite all the feelings raging inside him, Ivar wasn't ready for sex yet, Heahmund wasn't pushing him either. It was a subject that was very much on Ivar's mind. He felt that he wanted it, that his body responded to Heahmund, craving for more. After all, he also was just a boy with needs, but his head kept him from initiating more on his own. Sex in itself was already an upsetting subject, sex with another man and one he shouldn't even be attracted to in the first place made it all even more complicated and embarrassing. That's why Ivar felt so grossed out by his brother's new accusation.

There was the fear of losing respect from his brothers if they realized the extent of his feelings or if he confirmed their already existing suspicions one day. Would they despise him? Feel that he was worth less? Ivar assumed so.

"Your mind is so rotten, it’s disgusting," Ivar said, shaking his head in disbelief at what he had to deal with. He still tried to stay calm, to not let his own embarrassment about the whole situation creep to the surface as well as his anger that Bjorn was insulting him in such a way. His ego had definitely been bruised already.

"You are rotten, Ivar, a fucking faggot who claims that letting yourself be fucked in the ass qualifies as information gathering."

Ivar had already had enough ten minutes ago, but this new allusion made his patience thread snap. Quickly enough that Bjorn couldn’t react in time, he jerked upright, grabbed his brother by a tuft of hair on the top of his head and yanked his head down by it. Satisfaction spread through him as he heard the dull sound of a head hitting the tabletop with full force. When he saw fine drops of blood splattering on the surface, Ivar's grin grew even wider. He ignored the pain this sudden movement caused in his legs, his fury was pumping too hard in his veins for that to stop him.

Bjorn groaned in pain and grabbed his forehead to feel the now wet spot.

"Who's the pussy now, huh?" Ivar asked mockingly as he slid his hand to the back of his brother's head and pushed him forward again. All the hurtful things Bjorn had said before were far from settled with a simple laceration. His brother, however, regained his composure faster than Ivar would have liked. He resisted the pressure and instead gave Ivar a hard blow to the chest that drove the air out of his lungs and made him fall backward along with his chair.

Within seconds, Bjorn stood up, staggered briefly, and settled down on his shins next to Ivar. He grabbed his youngest brother by the collar of his shirt, yanked him up and, without hesitation, slapped him across the face with the flat of his hand.

Ivar reacted quickly, clenching his hand into a fist and striking back blindly, sensing only from the pain in his hand that he had landed a blow somewhere.

A fight broke out, which was only interrupted by the arrival of Ubbe and Hvitserk, who had been alerted by the loud noises and shouting of insults. Due to the quick intervention, the confrontation ended without any serious consequences. Only the laceration on Bjorn's forehead and a bruised rib on Ivar's side and some scratches and bruises remained. As well as a large portion of injured pride on both sides.

"Never forget what happened to Sigurd," Ivar called out to Bjorn as he was being pulled out of the room by Ubbe. It had almost led to another brawl, but Ubbe and Hvitserk did their best to keep the two away from each other.

"Is that a threat?"

"No, just well-intentioned advice, my dear brother."

—---------- BACK IN THE PRESENT —-----------

Since then, it had only gotten worse.

His relationship with Bjorn had remained frosty, as his brother continued to spy on him and didn't even feel the need to make a secret of it. He had also begun to ask more and more often, and especially more insistently, why he had been to Heahmund several times in a row and had come home without anything useful. He especially liked to do this in front of Ubbe and Hvitserk, which led to growing suspicion among them as well. Excuses were increasingly difficult to find and less and less accepted by all his brothers.

Bjorn's accusation that he had gone soft also unintentionally still haunted Ivar. Like a thorn, it had lodged itself deep inside him, causing unpleasant feelings from time to time. To compensate for this, he acted even more cold-heartedly than before in other areas. Only a few days ago, he had shot someone in front of his brothers without batting an eye. It had been absolutely not necessary. They could have made a statement in some other, less fatal way, but he had done it anyway, and so far no guilty conscience plagued him. Instead, it had felt good, somehow reassuring that his old reckless self was still there, shimmering menacingly beneath the surface.

However, in all areas that had to do with Heahmund, Bjorn was unfortunately right. Of course, Ivar already knew this by heart, but the extent to which this had already invaded his whole being nonetheless surprised him in the end.

It had brought him to a hospital. Not as a patient. No. Although the consideration was there to have himself admitted because Ivar felt sicker than ever before. Maybe, if he would ask nicely, his heart could be removed and replaced with a better, a smarter one. None that hurt so damn much since it had been smashed into a thousand little pieces not even 36 hours ago.

His stomach also rebelled, felt so heavy like it was filled with cement. The cause wasn't that he had eaten too much, for he hadn't been able to eat anything since yesterday. What was heavy on his stomach were the thoughts of what lay ahead and the pressure of knowing exactly what was now expected of him. All the doubts about whether all the last months had just been an illusion that he had blindly fed himself only added to the weight.

He was angry, very angry in fact. At Bjorn, at Heahmund and above all at himself. This also contributed to his discomfort, but the worst was the hurt and disappointment he was struggling with at the same time. Ivar felt completely lost, not sure what to believe and how to go on.

The reason for his inner turmoil was a simple file, not even a thick one. Bjorn had handed it to him yesterday morning with an arrogant grin that only widened when he saw the color drain from his face while looking at the contents. In it were photos, various documents, and half-scribbled notes. He had, after the first understanding of what he was looking at had set in, only been able to see it as if through a veil. Today he would no longer be able to describe exactly what he had seen, but Bjorn's taunting expression, Ivar had not forgotten - probably would not be able to forget for a long time. Too much shame had spread through him at the moment of realizing the full implications.

Shame that he had allowed himself to be toyed with, that he hadn't seen through Heahmund himself, but had fallen into his trap, blinded by something trivial like feelings.

It had pissed him off even more that Bjorn, in a way, had front-row tickets to his personal misery and that, of course, he had to be the one to rub his failure into his face. It wouldn't have been any easier to digest if Ubbe or Hvisterk had shared this information with him, but it would have been easier to lose his face in front of them. None of them would have enjoyed it as much as his oldest brother had.

Ivar also felt ashamed, because his first thought after becoming aware of the consequences was along the lines that Bjorn must have falsified the evidence presented. Despite the amount of proof, he still refused to believe what he had seen and read. He would prefer to turn off reason to avoid having to deal with the consequences of his misjudgment. To be betrayed by the person he had accepted into his heart was too bitter a pill to swallow.

The rage that had multiplied in him since then should have been enough to fuel his personal vendetta, to teach everyone involved in this spectacle a lesson. At least, that's what his old self would have done in a heartbeat. His old, uninfected self. Anything would be more understandable than him sitting here now, next to a hospital bed like a desperate wife, watching Heahmund's every little move, hoping that he would open his eyes again.

Fuck this thing called love! Fuck him in the first place that he had fallen for it! And fuck him, that he still couldn’t break loose from it.

Originally he had come into this room to put an end to his suffering, to really kill his source of light this time when three bullets were not enough to bring Heahmund down. Bullets that Bjorn had fired while Ivar had only been able to stand by, watching as if in trance as the bullets forced their way out of the gun in small explosions, only to burst into Heahmund's body milliseconds later. It all had happened as if in slow motion, and yet too quickly for him to have been able to prevent it.

The terrible feeling of seeing the person to whom one's heart belonged lying motionless on the floor still weighed heavily on Ivar. He would certainly not be able to forget those images either. At that moment, it had felt as if he himself was dying, or at least an important part of him. All the anger and rage he had felt towards Heahmund before had vanished the moment he had thought him dead. For a split second, there had been only emptiness inside him. Utter silence, until suddenly he was swept away by a wave of various emotions. All at once. The sheer force almost sent him to his knees had he not been leaning heavily against the car behind him.

Grief had been one of those feelings. Something he had never felt before, not even with Sigurd, his own brother. The emotion had been so strong that it had brought tears to his eyes, and with it, it had also brought him a new wave of ridicule from Bjorn. While his brother had dragged him into the getaway car, he had heard him laughing and calling him names again.

Ivar hadn't been able to pay much attention to that, which in retrospect had probably been better that way. A new quarrel, which might have ended in them killing each other, would certainly have broken out otherwise. His focus was solely directed at what was happening in the distance, as long as he could still catch a glimpse of it. The last thing he had seen was Heahmund's colleagues starting to take care of him. They all had rushed to his side, starting to put pressure on the wounds, shouting for an ambulance.

Back at home, Ivar hadn't wasted another second. He had immediately barricaded himself in his part of the house, making phone calls and calling in favors as if in a frenzy. Thus he had been able to find out quite quickly to which hospital Heahmund had been taken and that he had been brought there as an emergency and not as a corpse.

It was hard to put into words how relieved he had felt at that moment, and after he had finished that last call, he had simply sunk to the floor, tears freely streaming down his face - even though he was deeply ashamed of it, because crying was indeed something for sissies in his worldview. But at that moment he had been unable to control himself, even less than before. He had to surrender to his feelings in this way.

Although he didn't want to cry again, Ivar was on the verge of losing his composure once more. Seeing Heahmund so vulnerable hurt immensely. Ivar let his gaze glide over him. Heahmund was so pale and his face was adorned with a violet-bluish discoloration that Ivar couldn't make sense of. His hair was disheveled, and his half-naked torso was decorated with thick bandages over his shoulder and chest area.

He was sitting here for 30 minutes now, and so far he had done nothing but sink into self-pity and stare at Heahmund's deceptively peaceful-looking face, questioning for the hundredth time everything they had experienced together so far.

The more he questioned everything, the more little things he found that should have made him suspicious. That Heahmund had never forced himself on him or even tried to get further into his pants was one of those things that he now found strange. Back then, Ivar had simply thought of him as a gentleman who could sense his discomfort in this regard and therefore didn't rush things between them. All in all, they had only been seeing each other for real for about six months. Wasn't this still a normal period of time for couples to slowly get to know each other? Ivar thought so at least and had also felt comfortable with their pacing. But now it seemed to him as if Heahmund had had no interest in going that far from the beginning. For undercover missions, there were certainly guidelines that he was not allowed to exceed for the sake of his internal police credibility.

Ivar wondered if perhaps handjobs weren't supposed as too much as well, or if he could use the fact that they had done this to continue to trust Heahmund after all?

He had trusted him. Too much, probably, as he had to admit to himself now in retrospect. He had never told Heahmund anything that could be the undoing of his family, but he had been careless with his cell phone. He had often left it unattended while he was not in the same room. One situation, that should have made him more alert, Ivar still remembered.

He had gone to the bathroom shortly after they decided to call it a night and go to sleep. When he had left the room again, Heahmund came up to him with his cell phone in his hand. Whether the display had been on, Ivar could no longer tell, but that they had both paused for a moment, he still remembered. Heahmund had explained to him that he wanted to take it into the bedroom with him, and apologized just as directly in case he had crossed a line by doing so. That had been enough for Ivar to dismiss the incident as a thoughtful gesture, but of course, Heahmund had had plenty of time to snoop at that moment, and in many more later. Cops were certainly just as good at hacking access points as he was.

Love had indeed made him completely stupid.

Ivar leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. His gaze fell on the small object he held in his sweaty palm. Thoughtfully, he let his thumb glide over the smooth surface, watching the clear liquid sloshing around in it, wondering whether or not he should use it. Perhaps he had found the cure for the parasite inside him? He could end its torment. It was just a simple act. He had actually done it before, and he hadn't thought much about it then, he had just done it, without hesitation. Efficiently, quickly, 100% successfully.

A small part of him hoped that he would get his old self back when Heahmund was gone. But could he simply leave everything behind then? Act coldly and calculatingly in all situations again, without letting himself be guided by feelings? Or had too much of Heahmund's light already spread through him? Damaged him forever?

These were questions that buzzed through his head in addition to everything else. Ivar couldn't answer any of those with certainty, nor could he answer the question if he even wanted to return to this version of his old self if it meant losing Heahmund for good.

With another heavy sigh caused by his mental struggles, Ivar slid forward in his seat and propped himself up on the edge of the bed with both forearms. Carefully, he placed the syringe from his hand next to him on the mattress and then reached for Heahmund's hand, which he clasped with both of his. He was careful not to touch the cannula sticking out of the back of the hand, which looked chalky white due to the heavy blood loss Heahmund had suffered.

The thought of not wanting to inflict more pain on Heahmund crossed his mind, and Ivar shook his head with a sigh only seconds later. What a fool he was. He felt so stupid and useless.

He had come here to take revenge on Heahmund and also to restore his standing among his brothers. Yet he was worried he might harm Heahmund with simple touches, yet he felt relief every time he saw the chest in front of him lifts a little due to a shallow inhale. He didn’t want to find the rhythmic sound of Heahmund’s heart monitors to be soothing for him. But he did.

Just as carefully as before, he moved their joined hands to his lips and pressed them against the unusually cold fingers. Immediately Ivar thought back to the beautiful moments during the past months, how Heahmund had stroked his hair with those very fingers or grabbed his chin to pull him into a kiss. The memories still gave him a comforting feeling. The anger and disappointment at the possible betrayal couldn't repress that. His softness was obviously stronger, and that also made Ivar realize that he wouldn't be able to do what he had come here for. There was simply no way he could end Heahmund's life, too great was the relief that he had survived the three gunshot wounds - two of them to the chest - in the first place.

How deluded had he been, to not be well aware of this before? Perhaps he had only had to lie to himself sufficiently, to convince himself that he could kill Heahmund, in order to appear convincing in front of his brothers, too. If he wouldn't be here, one of them would have taken it from him, and then the matter would surely have been settled. None of his brothers would be sitting here brooding.

Ivar kissed Heahmund's fingers again, letting his lips stay attached to them for a while longer. Another thought crossed his mind, making his eyes water again. Even if he wasn’t going to kill the man in front of him, he could not return to his side and pretend that nothing had happened either.

He had lost him one way or another. His first love, the first person he felt at ease with. The realization hurt more than the knowledge that he might have been betrayed.

If only he could confront Heahmund and ask him his side of things. Ivar still hoped that Bjorn had made everything up, that of course Heahmund loved him, and that they could just go on from where they had left off less than 36 hours ago. But Heahmund was sound asleep, had only been discharged from his second emergency operation an hour ago, and was actually not even allowed visitors yet. Ivar had been lucky that one of the nurses knew him and therefore also knew that she would be in a similar condition in another bed if she hadn't let him through.

Ivar sat in silence as time passed mercilessly. The ticking of the clock on the other side of the room echoed louder and louder in his head.

He tried to think. He knew he had to act, the faster the better. He couldn't return home and ask his brothers to spare Heahmund's life and himself the ridicule that would follow. At least Bjorn wouldn't think anything of it and wouldn't want to hear about compromise. The fronts between them were too hardened by now. Ivar was less concerned about Ubbe and Hvitserk. Those two were not so iron-fisted, didn’t see only black and white. They would somehow understand him, accept even a compromise maybe.

While thinking about a possible strategy, he could not refrain from running his fingertips over Heahmund's arm all the way up to his exposed shoulder. These would be the last moments he could be close to him, so Ivar wanted to be as close as possible. Make good use of them without being too creepy. He simply had to feel Heahmund one more time, to absorb everything that would be denied to him from now on. He was probably only torturing himself even more, but Ivar pushed this awareness aside. He would enjoy it now and would have plenty of time later to hate himself for having acted that way, inflicting even more pain onto him.

Secretly, Ivar also hoped that he could give Heahmund a good feeling with his presence, that he would feel safe in case he was able to perceive anything around him. The thought that he might be the last person Heahmund would want with him now, he repressed as well. Instead, thoughts about kissing Heahmund one more time took over the wheel.

Only gently, tentatively, worried he might disrupt the oxygen supply, Ivar joined their lips in a brief kiss before pulling away again, looking down at the handsome face that showed no emotion or sign that he was aware of his surroundings.

How he would like to look once again into Heahmund's bright eyes, which in the best case were still filled with love and admiration. But this wish would remain unfulfilled and maybe it was better that way. Ivar didn't know how he would bear it when there was no more love in them. This way he could hold on to the memory and his wishful thinking.

Except for the beeping of the monitor next to the bed and the ticking of the clock, the room remained quiet. The silence invited Ivar to indulge in one more moment of togetherness.

He moved the chair more to the headboard and leaned his upper body down. It was uncomfortable, but he managed to lie halfway on the bed so that at least his head and half of his chest rested on the mattress. His nose nudged against Heahmund's temple while his lips pressed feather-light kisses on every spot he reached. In a low voice, he began to speak, telling Heahmund that he was sorry. He made no confession about his former crimes, he still had that much sense left, but he still felt the need to apologize.

So close to Heahmund, once again enjoying his soothing aura, Ivar's head cleared a little, coming up with an idea that formed into a promising strategy the more he pursued this train of thought. After the plan took shape and still seemed promising, Ivar slowly straightened up. Once again he kissed Heahmund, at first only on top of his head, then again fleetingly on his lips before he leaned down to reach his backpack, which stood next to the chair he was sitting on. He opened it, reached in, rummaged around searching, and finally pulled out the item he was looking for.

It was one of his prepaid cell phones, which he often needed in his job. While he switched it on, he turned his gaze back to Heahmund, weighing once again whether he was doing the right thing. But without a magic crystal ball, who knew in the end? More important was that it felt right to him now at this moment and despite his overall confused state, it actually did.

After activating the phone, he first dragged the Memo app to the center of the screen and then opened it. Nimbly, his thumbs slid across the screen as he began to write. He had to control himself to remain matter-of-fact, like he normally was, so his presumably last message to Heahmund wouldn’t end up in a dime novel, which middle-aged women bought in newsstands to bring the lost romance back into their lives.

It was difficult, though. He still wanted to tell him so much, preferably explain everything to him in the smallest detail, so that Heahmund would understand him and how it had ended like this. It was his pitiful attempt to avoid the possibility of Heahmund hating him as soon as regained consciousness.

I love you - he had never said it out loud before, nor did he write it at the end of his message now, but Ivar allowed himself to say these words clearly in his thoughts for once, giving them room to come into existence.

Carefully, he placed the phone into Heahmund's hand after he had finished his message, grabbed his crutch, which he currently needed because all the stress was also making itself felt physically, and stood up ponderously. He had already lost too much time, and yet he paused for another moment, looking down at Heahmund, waiting for something he himself didn't even know what it was.

Of course, nothing happened, and so Ivar turned and headed for the door. Tears welled up in his eyes again, clouding his vision. He didn't want to leave, wanted to hold on to his illness a little longer, but with every step he took he got infected with another one.

No longer visible to him, Heahmund's eyelids began to twitch, and as Ivar pushed open the door and stepped through, not looking back again, they lifted, clearing the way for a pair of bright eyes.

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

Author's Note: It could be the first chapter of several more - the idea itself is bigger than this, but it can also be read as a sad - somehow strange - Oneshot in case I get sidetracked again.

Suddenly, I also feel the need to explore their early stages a bit more. This chapter was supposed to be a little bit of a setting, since the actual story starts after that, but I feel a little bit like I should have started right from the beginning, then this one wouldn't be so packed with info without much actual plot. Right? Well, it's a learning process, right²?

#heavar #heahmund x ivar #ivar x heahmund #vikings #vikings modern au #vikings fanfic #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfiction #vikings edit #heavar edit #fic: final masquerade #fanfiction #fanfic writing #my writing #my stuff #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #bishop heahmund

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heavenlymorals · 2 years

Text

A Grave in Autumn

Summary: After getting a call from his wife that his youngest son is at the hospital and may not make it, Ragnar Lothbrok takes a moment to visit the grave of his dead daughter. If his son were to die, it wouldn't be his first rodeo.

Modern AUs are always so fun to read and so hard to write. I did have fun with this though 🍂 (Gyda deserved better-). Also, small headcanon, but I picture modern Ivar to be a least somewhat into goth fashion/culture. Where does this headcanon come from? From the fact that he had no fucking color in his wardrobe in the series.

All around him, the leaves were an ombre of red, orange, and yellow. The wind blew viciously across the branches and leaves fluttered all around him like sparks of tepid fire. The leaves would wisp all around him, clinging to his coat, to his hair, to his beard. Ragnar got annoyed and would pinch the wonderfully dead foliage and drop it mindlessly on the ground. The leaf, whether red or orange or yellow, would cover up the drab brown leaves that crunched loudly under each heavy footprint.

Autumn was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. All around him, he could see its beauty. Mother nature was a wonderful artist, no doubt. As far as Ragnar Lothbrok was concerned, no one could try to replicate her designs even if they wished to. Or maybe it was God’s design, who knew? He wore a golden cross with him almost all the time, a gift from his dearest friend Athelstan who either A. died a long time ago, or B. disappeared so he would never have to deal with the downward spiral that was Ragnar Lothbrok. If it was the latter, Ragnar couldn’t blame him. He was a toxic friend, a terrible person. Abandonment was far too kind of a fate for him.

He kept walking along the trail. It was dusty and old. It seemed that the church to whom the cemetery belonged fell on hard times. The trail wasn’t crisp in its lines. All around it, one could see the breaching of sickly dead weeds strangling the grass. They were now a yellowish color, which reminded Ragnar heavily of vomit. He would know. He used to drink a lot. Did crack a lot. He threw up many times, the aroma becoming dimmer and dimmer on his nose each time it happened. After a while, it simply became an inconvenience, like how muscles would get sore after a good day at the gym.

That was…terrifying, looking back at it, now, on the straight and narrow and sober. How he was so willing to overlook such significant things to escape his misery through artificial ecstasy. Getting high and getting drunk was his happiness. What made it worse was that he was still Ragnar Lothbrok, smart, lucky Ragnar Lothbrok, who could achieve whatever he wished. He was still running his business to a T. He was still making money. He was still skyrocketing into fame and fortune. Because of this, he couldn’t bring himself to care that this was wrong.

Sober. He’s sober now. He’d still drink now and then, but he was still sober. He’d never touch any recreational drug ever again.

As he kept walking across the trail, he came face to face with an iron fence. The fence itself was this fine between being of minimalist style and dabbling in the intricate gothic fashion that many cemeteries were fond of. As he opened the gate, it creaked loudly. Somewhat ought to oil the thing.

He kept walking across that dingy trail until all around him were a plethora of tombstones. He absent-mindedly made note of the shapes. Square-top headstones. Ogee headstones. Arc tops and check tops. The iconic cross headstones, becoming dull at the edges from the constant wind and rain. Some of the headstones had angels carved onto them. One of them caught Ragnar’s eye. The angel was in the image of a young girl. Her hair was adorned with thick, Grecian curls as she looked down at the grave ledger with her hands clasped together and her eyes closed in a solemn expression. Her dress cascaded down her in intricate folds and from the back, two small wings spread out delicately. The whole headstone was made of marble and the ledger was a polished black ingrained with gold.

It must have been expensive.

Ragnar sighed and continued walking, passing more tombs, some simple, some not. Some were clean and others were forgotten, as evidenced by the green moss and the stained brown that defiled them. He kept walking up the trail till he made it up to a secluded corner in the cemetery. There weren't any other tombs in this area, thus it looked almost abandoned. Shading the entire thing was a proud Norway Maple. It looked like it was on fire, with how bright it was. If he touched a leaf, he was sure that he might’ve burned his finger. The ravens seem fine though, cawing proudly and dancing on the branches. Fitting that the ravens were here. Ever a companion of death. Ever since ‘God’ and ‘Jesus’ weren’t the ones who held dominion over the heavens, but Odin and his brood.

The leaves fell again and covered what Ragnar was looking for.

A flat tombstone.

Perhaps it would make sense to know why he was looking for this unassuming little slab of rock. Why he was trekking through this cemetery. Why he gazed so intently on the guardian angel that prayed over that anonymous deceased.

A few days ago, he got a call from his wife, Aslaug. He used the term loosely. His marriage to Aslaug came from a place of practicality more than a place of love. He met the woman at a club and well, one thing led to another, and they slept together. Other than to relieve his hard-on with a beautiful woman, he also did it as an act of revenge. Before that fateful night, he learned that his wife, now ex-wife, Lagertha, had been sleeping with his brother while they were together and that his oldest son, Bjorn, might’ve never been his child. Thankfully, one discreet DNA check later revealed that Bjorn WAS his son, but Ragnar was still pissed. He slept with Aslaug, made it rather easy for Lagertha to figure out, and then left.

And being rather petty back then, he wasted no time courting Aslaug after he found out she was pregnant with his child and making her fall in love with him just as a final ‘fuck you’ to Lagertha. It rubbed salt in Lagertha’s wounds that Aslaug was pregnant as they tried many times after Bjorn’s birth to have another child but failed over and over again.

Looking back at it now, since he is older and at least somewhat wiser, he could only cringe at how childish he was, how needlessly petty.

In any case, he didn’t love Aslaug in the same way that he used to love Lagertha. He loved her as the mother of his children, but besides that? No. He didn’t love her. This then lead to many issues in their relationship, which could have contributed to his affairs with drugs and alcohol and her similar bouts with alcohol.

They managed to sort that whole business out, somehow. For now, they were simply married for convenience and neither of them was particularly keen on destroying that convenience.

Anywho, yes, he got a call from Aslaug and a deep pit of blackness threatened to consume him whole. He still remembered how the phone buzzed in his pocket, how he narrowed his eyes as he saw the caller ID, how he swiped to answer, all of that.

And how his heart sank as he received this terrible news.

“Ragnar?”

“Who else then? What’s going on, Aslaug?”

Silence on the other end of the line. He swore he could’ve heard a choked sound, one that came from a person trying to swallow their pain and misery.

“Aslaug?”

“It’s Ivar. Oh, God, it’s Ivar,” the mother of his children seemed frantic, hysteric. Her breathing came out ragged.

“What about him,” Ragnar asked, trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t even know what was going on.

“He was with Hvitserk. He was supposed to pick Ivar up from school. I don’t know what the hell they were doing, but they got into a crash. Hvitserk got out lucky with only a broken arm but Ivar- You know how fragile he is. The doctors are not sure if he’ll make it.”

Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to say much. Aslaug gave him the name of the hospital and that was that. He ended the call and quickly rushed into the closest car he could get to (Ubbe always muttered that he had too many cars), broke a couple of speed limits, and made it into the hospital.

It was a complete pain in the goddamn ass to get the workers to let him see his son, but eventually, he was escorted to a little hallway with shitty little plastic waiting chairs. Aslaug was not there at that moment. She went back to bring things for her boy when (if) he woke up. Ubbe was there, ever the responsible one, pacing back and forth, worry creased into his forehead, He always had that expression on, ever the worrier. He looked somewhat relieved when he saw Ragnar. Sigurd, to Ragnar’s surprise, was sitting on one of the chairs and crossed his arms. There was a look of worry on his pale face, and every now and then, he would look back at the sterile little room that housed his little brother. He didn’t bother to greet Ragnar. They didn’t have the best relationship (Ragnar’s fault, obviously) and Sigurd was a headstrong bastard, so there was little Ragnar could do to mend their relationship if Sigurd didn’t care to do so. Hvitserk was also sitting beside Sigurd and his face looked paralyzed in shock, fear, and worry. It had been a bit since Ragnar had seen Hvitserk in person, as his son seemed to inherit that addictive personality that Ragnar and his mother unfortunately had. He too fell into the vice of alcohol and drugs. A younger Ragnar probably would’ve blamed Hvitserk’s addictions on his lack of self-control and poor wisdom, but an older, somewhat wiser Ragnar, could sympathize with him. After all, he knew damn well that he had a part in Hvitserk’s benders.

Hvitserk would party a lot and he was an elusive little bastard too, so he couldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found. Somehow, someway, Ivar managed to get his older brother out of hiding and force him into rehab. He was doing well for a bit, until now it seemed.

Ragnar learned that Hvitserk was high as a kite when he was driving. Weed. He was supposed to pick up Ivar from school and bring him home.

And then this happened.

Ragnar looked at Hvitserk, at his sunken eyes, at his too-pale skin, at his greasy long hair, and wanted to scream at him for being such a stupid, stupid fool- What the fuck made him relapse like this?

He didn’t though. He didn’t scream at him. The horrified look on his face was enough for Ragnar to know that Hvitserk was already being punished enough by his own guilt. Ragnar could sympathize. He was a man who needed a good push to change, and for Ragnar, his push was the horrified expressions on Ubbe and Hvitserk’s faces when he tried to strangle his dealer for not giving him what he wanted. No, what he needed at that time. The girl, Yidu, quickly fled the scene and he was glad that she did. He would’ve killed her otherwise.

Perhaps Hvitserk’s push would be this.

Or maybe he would fall apart even further.

Time can only tell.

He sighed and sat next to Hvitserk, rubbing his face in his hands. Hvitserk didn’t even acknowledge him. His whole being seemed encased with ice, as he cradled his broken arm in his sling. Ragnar gently wrapped his arm around Hvitserk and Hvitserk all but sunk into his side.

A few moments later the doctor quietly said that they could see him, but only one at a time. Ubbe went first, then Sigurd, and then Ragnar. Hvitserk didn’t move an inch. Too guilty for his part in this mess.

Ivar’s life will never be one without complications. His youngest son was always going to have to live his life with some sort of complication. That was stamped on his head the second he was born with osteogenesis imperfecta, otherwise known as brittle bone disease. Now, Ivar was lucky in the sense that his OI wasn’t as severe as other cases, but it seemed to have taken a personal vendetta on his legs, as that was the part of him that was the most severely affected. Thanks to modern medicine and technology and whatnot, his legs are not as wasted as they could’ve been, but the breaks he suffered from them rendered him unable to walk without assistance.

As he walked into the room, he felt as if he was dumped with a bucket of ice water. His little boy looked so small to him in that bed, in that familiar hospital gown, with all those wires and bandages attached to him. His face was covered with a breathing mask and Ragnar would think he was dead if it weren’t for the soft beeping of the machines singing in the background and the one stereotypical screen of a green line zig-zagging up and down.

Ragnar felt overwhelmed with the same feeling that he had a million times over whenever Ivar had to go to the hospital. It never got better. He has been to hospitals so many times that he was honestly qualified enough to be a technician since he knew the machines so well. It never got any better and this time, it was worse, since this was the first time where the doctor was not entirely sure that his little boy will be ok.

He stayed for a while and left the hospital later when the sun became occulted by night.

He woke up the next day and went to go to the hospital but then did a detour to the old cemetery.

It wasn’t the first time he lost a child. He knows that Ivar isn’t dead, but he knew if he would be, it would be a similar feeling to how he felt all those years ago when he lost his sweet little girl, Gyda, and how he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her because he was out chasing his two-faced dreams and making his two-faced name. That broke him the most. That he wasn’t able to say goodbye to her. If Ivar was to go, at least he would be able to cope. It wouldn’t be his first rodeo, after all.

Sometimes, he thought about Gyda, about who she would be if she was given the chance to grow up. He sometimes had little dreams of a grown-up Gyda, who looked suspiciously like Lagertha except for dark hair and silver eyes, making him proud. In some dreams, she would jump into his arms with a diploma clutched in slender hands. In other dreams, she would proudly show off her successes in the fashion industry, as that was something he remembered his little girl obsessing over before she died. He tried to spoil her as much as he can back then, a father’s duty to his daughter, with whatever it is she wanted and that he could afford. If only he could spoil her now, with this multi-million (almost billion) dollar empire that he was able to procure with his blood, sweat, tears, and luck. A whole lot of luck.

What would Gyda think of her old man today, now that was the question. How would she feel knowing that the father that she knew, the doting father who was always a rock in a raging ocean, ever so stalwart, was not that same father for his other kids? Gyda and Bjorn were lucky in that regard. They knew their father before he became obsessed with material life. They knew the best version of their father. And he was still that father in the first few years of Ubbe and Hvitserk’s lives, but soon afterward, he became distant and aloof. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was a bad father to his four other children. He had his moments of course, but most of the time, he was just a filthy, junky mess, and whatever relationship he could’ve had with his sons were either nipped at the bud or so fragile that eggshells would seem like titanium.

Gyda would hate him, probably. He hated himself. He would probably continue hating himself till the end of times. For what he robbed of these poor boys, for how he left them to the wolves. If forgiveness would ever come from his sons, and Ragnar doubted it ever could, he would be able to die in the peace he never deserved.

He sighed. He kneeled and wiped away the leaves that occulted the name on the flat marker.

Gyda Lothbrok.

Ragnar felt guilt pierce through his heart when he saw the state of the thing. God, how long has it been since he has last been here? Or Lagertha? The stone was stained a sickly green, and some of the letters were discolored. As Ragnar looked at the marker, he thought about the more grandiose headstones that littered the cemetery. He then looked at this flat one, so unassuming and insignificant that he had to card through leaves for an entire two minutes before he could find the thing. She should’ve had a larger stone. One with an angel on it. She was an angel.

However, it felt sordid to think about digging her back up to give her a better stone at a better plot.

To make himself feel better, he would simply describe the headstone as humble. Yes, that. Humble. Gyda was a humble girl.

Ivar will get the angel, then, if he doesn’t make it. He’d probably like that, considering his recent adventures in the gothic macabre.

“Hello, Gyda…”

His voice felt strange to him. As if it didn’t belong to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a while.”

I’m sorry that I am only visiting because of the guilt I feel for my other sons. I am sorry that I am only visiting because I am not sure if my youngest, if my baby will survive. If he doesn’t, be kind to him, yes? He’s a stubborn boy.

He didn’t say that out loud.

The ravens kept cackling. The leaves kept stirring. Ragnar stayed there for a long time, speaking to this grave in cold Autumn before going back to the sterile haven of the hospital.

#vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ragnar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #modern ragnar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern hvitserk #modern ubbe #modern sigurd

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notathingjustthere · 1 year

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Hinge III (short)

Modern Ivar x reader

(More of Hvitserk and readers' friendship)

Note: I wrote this right after the second one and never finished it because I could not decide how I wanted to go about it. Now I definitely don't remember any of my ideas so I just want help. Any ideas would be helpful and appreciated. I think it's been a year already :( cause I graduated and the 9-5 has left me without a life so I need a hobby.

Word Count: 1.2K

*I do not own this gif*

Wednesdays were movie nights, a tradition you and Hvitserk had established throughout the past few months of your friendship. His feet were always comfortably stretched on your furniture, despite the numerous times you berated him for his lack of home etiquette. You shoo his feet off your couch, wondering how your relationship had even developed this far.

“You’re not gonna get that?” His eyes were glued to his phone, though he seemed to be ignoring the incessant ringtone that he refused to let up. Shaking his head no as he fixed himself up allowing you a stolen glance at the caller ID.

Banter easily ensued after Hvitserk chucked his phone somewhere into your couch, wanting to focus on the night planned out. Triple Frontier was the winning choice for the night after the game of rock, paper, scissors that he suggested. The two-hour screen time of some of Hollywood’s finest would be just what you needed after a long day. Takeout was on its way and with everything already set up the night could not get any better.

The loud vibration from Hvittserk’s corner was hard to ignore forcing you to pause the movie while he struggled to search the crevices of the couch for the source.

“And who do we have here?” You had assumed it was Ivar calling him again, but your disinterest was cut short when it turned out otherwise. “It's your mother.” Hvitserk’s teasing only dragged on as he pulled the phone behind him, out of reach. Fewer calls were exchanged over your busy period, but your mom never failed to check in on her only child from time to time.

Eventually quitting the childish play Hvitserk gave up the cell phone, already having picked up the call, eager to greet the woman that raised you.

“I see why I can't even get a call back these days. You found yourself a man and you didn't tell me?” The belly laugh Hvitserk let out deepened the frown on your face at your mother's leap of an assumption. You walked further away from him in feign of privacy, but he could still hear you both.

“Oh please, that boy wishes. I've just been busy with the move and the new job, I am sorry I didn’t call back earlier.”

You can't help to smile at the offended look on Hvitserk’s face after your comment. Your jab was short-lived, as an eager Hvitserk redirected his pestering regarding your love life towards your mother.

“Your child won't let me play matchmaker, even though I found the per-.”

The doorbell cut his piece short, the universe honouring its favour to you. Taking the cue to leave the conversation, you made your way to the door grabbing a hundred from his wallet. A nice tip that would also compensate for the headache of a chat you would have later with your mother. Besides, he wouldn’t even miss it.

“What's this about finding you, someone?”Your mom’s voice brings you back to the moment not long after setting down your food.

“Ma, no. Don't listen to him, he’s full of rubbish. I gotta go, but I will call you later, alright?”

“Wait let me say goodbye first” Hvitserk cuts in, too excited.

“I see this one’s got some manners. Just let the boy say hi.” your mother encourages his behavior, but you refused and were quick to glide a finger over the red button.

Unsure of how you were feeling, you made note of the buzzing heat that resonated through your being. “Really? Mr. Matchmaker?”

“Well he’s my brother, I gotta look out for him. Besides, I’m proud he listened to me for once.” he shrugs.

Your brows raised curiously at his admission. Had he put his brother up to this?

“Hvittyyy.” You whined in frustration at the decision you had to make.

So much had happened in the past few months of your big move, that nothing in the world could have prepared you when Ivar randomly asked you out. Downtown was significant in size, yet it was criminal how easy it was to run into someone familiar. It was why you and Hvitserk became so close in the first place.

Your semi-success story improved your lifestyle and social circle. Having little to no social skills outside of work you had somehow made a friend or two in the past few months. With Hvitserk it was easy, the natural charm and free-spirited aura complimented a hidden adventurous side of you. He had earned the title of your best friend and had bugged you since after.

Right now you weren't so sure if he was deserving of the title. “Are you sure you're not just here to talk me into this date or something?” Hvitserk picked up on the slight annoyance in your tone.

You had been first to arrive on a lunch date with Leila, a friend from work when you noticed Ivar at the entrance. He looked so casual that you were caught off guard when he made his way toward you with a smile? Your brain screamed at you, anxious when forced to make small talk to pass the time. The interaction did not turn out as unpleasant as you thought it would be.

“Funny seeing you here. Figured you only ate at high-end restaurants or something.”

Ivar had kept a serious face at your small attempt at a joke, and before you could stop yourself, you started rambling out an apology, an old habit. He realised his muted reaction was what caused your response, making do with a needed apology

“My godfather owns the place, so I find myself here often.”

He offered another smile, an attempt to soothe the disquiet tension, before changing the topic. He gestured to the seat across from you, asking if you were expecting anyone. He’d never been so civil with you, and honestly, you found yourself weirded out by it.

As luck would have it, Leila’s head peaks far behind his shoulder, a confused look on her face as you waved her over. You thought the interaction would end then until Ivar approached you again after Leila left for the bathroom. It was almost cute seeing him struggle to let out his request but you were too stunned to notice even after he finally let it out. He was just as flustered as you were and before you realised it you were nodding in agreement to get coffee with him.

“What’s the big deal? He likes you and now the question is, do you?

“What is this kindergarten?”

You hadn’t given the situation much thought, but Hvitserk’s spying did not help, forcing your fretting mind to dwell on it further than you would have preferred. Ivar’s surprised reaction when you agreed to his request stayed fresh in your mind.

You wouldn’t deny your attraction for the younger Lothbrok, however, something held you back from admitting it. Under his employment, your mind would roam wild at times, filled with silly scandalous plots involving a CEO and his assistant.

That was in the past when the relationship had been strictly professional. But now nothing was stopping you from living out the PG versions of some of those fantasies. Would it be weird? An assistant and her ex-boss? Maybe you were overthinking it.

“It’s one date, Y/N”

“Can we maybe not talk about this and just watch the movie”

#ivar x y/n #modern ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #vikings fanfic #vikings #ragnar lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader

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aaalllice · 2 years

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Summer Love (Ivar x y/n x a girl)

Summary: Holidays in the new Manoir Lothbork, Hvitserk comes to introduce his new girlfriend, but unfortunately this one will be interested in y/n Ivar’s girlfriend.

Warning: slight mention of sex and insult

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 1 before holidays

7 pm

The sun was always high in the sky, I love the summer, that feeling of still having the whole day ahead of us while we just finished the work. I just got out of the company building where I work, adjusted my headphones and rushed into the subway.

After entering a car just in time, I noticed that it is almost empty. I love the subway when there is no one, really, it’s hot but, it doesn’t matter, there is more space since people have already gone on vacation or are teleworking. I sit by the window and begin to let the music guide my thoughts.

*notification noise*

I look down lazily on my phone

*message from : Ivar the Grumpy*

I roll my eyes, what is it that still wants, since this morning, he does not stop finding excuses not to go on vacation, more precisely not to go on vacation with his family.

For a long time, Ivar and her family have been leaving every summer in their manor, it’s like a kind of tradition.

In our 5 years of relationship, I went "only" twice, but I love and get along well with his brothers, (perhaps less Sigurd), so I very quickly joined this tradition. Aslaug wasn’t happy at first, but it’s relaxed the next year. Ragnar was proud to introduce me to the manor, and especially, that I like to go fishing with him.

(y/n) You know I’m doing this with my dad so I’m used to it ;

(Ragnar) I am happy that you came, now the one who fishes the biggest has won! ;

Anyway

My gaze returns to the phone

*I don’t want to go!*

after having found almost all the excuses to make me change my mind here is Monsieur does the child

I blow, type two letters and send

*no*

a few seconds later

*no? You mean, no, we’re not going!! *

Why doesn’t he want to see his family? in addition this year there will be only his brothers and me, yes me because otherwise he would never have said yes (even if apparently he changed his mind) His parents had bought a "small" house further south and wanted to spend the summer with their little child, and the mothers were also invited to their home

*fuck you*

I turn off the device and it turns on again I didn’t pay attention to it, the metro slowed down for the 5th time since I rode in I finally got to my station stop

5 minutes before I get to my apartment, I begin to enter the avenue a good smell of pizza floated in the street I look at my watch, 19:25

Come on, why not I know I’m trying to eat healthier and be careful but fuck it So I go to the pizzeria, next to the subway exit

POV IVAR

but what a fool! She warned me she’d finish later, make sure she didn’t have to do anything during the holidays, but this is a long time

I was watching TV watching a football game, I was more focused on the screen off my phone, waiting for her message

Annoyed, I get up and walk to the fridge, no more fucking beer.

Well, if she doesn’t show up in five minutes, I’m not coming to family vacations, period

4 min, I walk in the small apartment, I really want her to come back but not within 4 min

2 min,1 min

The fist turns and she appears smiling with two boxes of pizza in her hand

(Ivar) shit ! ;

POV Y/N

he slumped on the couch with an angry look on his face

(y/n) well great reception, you didn’t want pizza ? ;

he nodded his head, and beckoned me to come with him I put the pizzas on the kitchen counter and sit on his legs

he smiles stupidly

(y/n) what ;

(Ivar) I no longer hurt ; he had a big smile on his face

(y/n) that’s great, really, I’m proud of you ;

(Ivar) I am not the one who is fixing my legs ;

(y/n) no, but ; he puts his hand on my mouth

(Ivar) there is no but ; he kissed my forehead, and glanced at the counter

(Ivar) we eat ? ;

(y/n) with pleasure, I am starving ;

I get up, head into the kitchen and grab scissors while I cut the pizzas, I feel hands passed over my waist, a powerful torso sticking to my back, and lips passed over my neck

(Ivar) I don’t feel it ;

(y/n) but it smells good ;

(Ivar) not the food, i talk about the holidays ;

(y/n) Ivar, come on, everything will go well, like last year ;

(Ivar) Mmhhh ;

(y/n) come on this is my only vacation and I want to go, besides it’s a new area this year ;

(Ivar) pff ;

(y/n) if you don’t want to go, I’ll go alone ; he doesn’t answer, but his lips are more persistent on my neck, and his hands more serene on my waist

(y/n) finish ; I raise my hands all happy, for once I managed to cut equal parts

we took the two pizzas to go into the living room

11 pm

(y/n) well it’s time to go to bed ; I’m on his chest

(Ivar) already, don’t you want dessert ? ; he gives me a perverse look

(y/n) Ivar, no, we have to get up early tomorrow and fit ; I stretched my arms out

(Ivar) Come on, let yourself be tempted ; he puts his hand under my t-shirt

(y/n) I am the one driving, I have to be able to use my legs tomorrow ;

he starts laughing and I do the same we go to the bedroom, he lies down on the bed, while I go to the shower

a few minutes later

hot water makes me feel crazy, after a big day of work it’s just perfect the door noise, does not make me open my eyes, but made me have a small smile in the corner

a mass comes behind me

(Ivar) I would go slowly ; his body was already glued to mine

Same day

4 pm

Hvitserk lying on the couch with a bag of chips next to him had just received a message from his friend (who is also the girl of his little brother Ivar)

*ready for a crazy summer? don’t forget your Ps5*

He smiled while answering, then refocused on the replay of the football game he had missed

half-time, awesome, time for him to go get a new package while he was in the kitchen, someone knocked on the door

It was his new girlfriend, Judie, little brown-eyed redhead 2, that’s how many months he’s been dating. He met him at a bar in town, and he thought he was cute, and she thought he was cute.

Both had never experienced such a long relationship but for different reasons

Hvitserk, because he didn’t want to land, liked the time of a night and then moved on, but for once he wanted to try something else, why not with her.

Judie wants to find true love, but during the evening she was told why not relax and enjoy life ( she had drunk, obviously)

She entered the apartment and sat in a chair

(Hvitserk) want a beer ? ; he says from the kitchen

(Judie) no, thank you ; he came back to sit on the couch and tapped the place next to him so that she could sit down but she refused

(Juddie) we need to talk ; she seemed stressed he swallowed, and it straightened out

(Hvitserk) what do you want to talk about;

(Juddie) I don’t know if I want to come to the holidays;

(Hvitserk) but yes, you will have fun ; he relaxed

(Juddie) I don’t know, I don’t know anyone, and if he doesn’t love me ;

(Hvitserk) but don’t worry and then you know me and there will be y/n ;

(Juddie) but if she and I don’t like each other ;

(Hvitserk) I have already told you that she is cool, you will necessarily get along ;

Juddie blew but nodded, she really needed a break, anyway, if it doesn’t go well her boyfriend won’t force her to stay, and go home with her, right?

Departure day

7 am

The room was plunged into darkness and calm, comfort and warmth. Glued and snuggled together.

*alarm noise*

The thud, the fucking thud, came through my phone, woke me up instantly, unlike my boyfriend, who moaned and tightened his arm around my waist.

I laugh softly, lay a kiss on his temple, and come down from the bed, pushing his arm, and directed me to the door, and opened the door of the room, and made me invade by the bright light I close my eyes dazzled and hear moaning behind me.

(y/n) come on ;

I walk towards one of the windows but dazzled I take my feet in the suitcases and fall on the corner of the small table in the living room

(y/n) ouch ; I say sobbing I sit on the couch to watch the damage

(Ivar) are you okay ? ; he said in a lazy tone, always in bed

(y/n) yeah ; it’s just a small scratch on the knees

I get up and look out the window, in the street was parked the car I rented for the occasion

I heard Ivar get up and go into the bathroom

30 min later

(Ivar) Hurry up, damn it ; he’s standing in front of the door

(y/n) I arrive, 2 secs ;

I jump on the spot try to put my basketball we go down the stairs,

(y/n) you have the car key ? ;

(Ivar) no ; he looked tired

I was digging through my tote bag I’m starting to stress, I'm sure I put them in

Ivar heads for the car, and then he pulls his wrist, and it opens he looks at me with judgmental eyes, then settles on the passenger side

I’m stuck on the street, I, I, I didn’t shut it off what an asshole I am

(Ivar) move your ass or I go back to bed ;

After 35 minutes in the traffic of our city, we finally take the highway, more than 7h drive

I had put my Spotify playlist, but as usual, Ivar never pleased "not this music, not this one, not this one either"

(Ivar) You got shit tastes y/n ;

(y/n) that’s why I go out with you ; he blows, and changes again the traffic was calm for the moment not like the atmosphere in the car

the closer we get to the mansion the more Ivar becomes unbearable

(Ivar) fucking vacation of shit ;

I should never have accepted ;

it’s your fault ;

I’d rather be quartered ;

I hate them, I hate them ;

I hope Sigurd has an accident on the road ;

blablabla

I’ve been putting up with this for over 3 hours, 3 fucking hours, it’s about time to make a stop

I park in a gas station parking lot, and I go out without saying a word, leaving Ivar alone and heads for the bathroom as I go out I see him on the hood, smoking

(y/n) didn’t you say you were stopping ? ;

(Ivar) Fuck you ; he’s looking at the floor

I have a sudden craving for him was popping his head against the windshield another car had just parked,

2 guys a little younger came out of it

it’s time to wake him up, more jealous than Ivar it doesn’t exist

So I went to them, leaving Ivar alone in his bad mood

(y/n) hi ;

(man 1 & 2) hi ; they smelled weed

(y/n) sorry to disturb you but I’m going in this direction and I wonder if you don’t mind taking me ;

(man 2) yeah sure, but we’re almost there ;

(y/n) It’s not a big deal, it will help me a lot ;

(man 1) happy to help, sweetheart ;

the two guys go to the bathroom and wave at me to hear you

I open my phone

*missed call from : Ubbe the Father* - *message from : Ubbe the Father*

*I have arrived, I am waiting for you, roll slowly and rest often, I prepare the happy hour*

I was going to answer him when a hand grabbed my wrist

(y/n) Ivar you fucking scared me ;

(Ivar) come on let’s go ;

(y/n) apologize first ? ;

(Ivar) why? ;

(y/n) are you serious ?! ; he blew

(Ivar) I don’t see why I should apologize ;

(y/n) Ivar, shit ; I get out of his grip

and party in the opposite direction to him

(Ivar) I’m sorry ;

I turn around

(y/n) what ;

there was a moment of silence

(Ivar) I apologize my darling, my shitty character took the disappointed ; he extended his arms towards me

(Ivar) come on ;

(y/n) you promise to be less a stupid slut ; he smiles

(Ivar) yes promised, come on I feel empty without you in my arms ;

I roll my eyes but I am directed in his arms then we took the road again the path is calmer and softer

finally a normal ride, where we sang all the songs in my playlist to your head like I don’t taste like shit.

finally, a normal walk, where all the songs from my playlist were sung, I have no shitty taste at the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

end

part 2

some aesthetic :

Summer Holiday

Alex and You

Marco and You

Kiss Kiss

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jadelynlace · 1 year

Text

True Warriors Rarely Go Quietly⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Preview

synopsis: When you find the other person who was hurt by your ex-boyfriend’s cheating, you create an unlikely alliance.

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

content warnings: Mentions of cheating and heartbreak, strong language / adult themes, sexual content, Ivar being a dick...

author’s note: I know. Don’t say anything, I’m writing something new. Divider is by @firefly-graphics

When the ringing finally halts, you hear a voice, silky and low, speak: “Hello?”

“Is this Ivar?” You meekly ask.

“Not if I owe you money,” He snaps back.

“You don’t. But, uh—you’re with Freydis?” You say before here’s a silence. “Wait, don’t hang up! She cheated on you with my boyfriend.” You add quickly. “I want your help to get revenge,” And you swallow thickly while silence overtakes the line.

“I’m listening,” Ivar finally hums.

“Oh, um, that’s really all I have so far,” You confess. “I didn’t know if you’d agree to it,”

“You called because you wanted my help getting revenge?” Ivar clarifies.

“I thought you might have an idea,” You sigh. “I was told to just...move on,”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Ivar snorts. “I…might have an idea,”

“….A legal one?”

“No,” Ivar deadpans. “Actually...” Ivar starts after another pause. “Freydis always did talk about how she wished she looked,” You hear him say.

“Alright?” You reply before another pause.

“And you…fit that image,” Ivar then adds. “Oh, you fit that image well,”

“How the hell do you know what I look like?” You say suddenly.

“Well, you’re Y/N Y/L/N, you’re from the same city I’m from and you work at—”

“Are you on my Facebook page?” You nearly shriek.

“Modern problems require modern solutions, sweetheart,” Ivar hums.

“Those pictures are terrible,” You mumble.

“I don’t think so,” Ivar says, kicking himself as soon as the sentence leaves his lips.

“Do you have an idea?” You ask again.

“Oh, I do,”

Writing Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines @readsalot73 @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @93xdiagonxalley @ivarisms @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony @ivarsgard @cosmicmerbabe

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #modern vikings au #ivar #ivar au #modern ivar #modern ivar au #ivar x reader #ivar x you #modern ivar x reader #modern ivar x you #ivar smut #vikings smut #vikings ivar #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

Text

timetraveling!vikings + modern tv/movies

Summary: how timetraveling!vikings characters would react to modern tv/movies

Notes: took a while for me to write this, but i still hope everyone enjoys :)

Taglist: @leithdragon @demon-of-the-ancient-world @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @alicedopey, @ivarlover @levithestripper @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added!!)

based on this request | Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

Ragnar

Ragnar loves TV

ESPECIALLY reality tv

Lives for the drama

Heartbroken when you tell him it’s scripted

Never recovers

Big on Euphoria (is team Maddy, obviously)

Lagertha

Freaked out at the TV

She’d rather experience all that stuff herself

Does like watching a movie sometimes, but it can’t be too sci-fi

Beats up filmbros if they come at Pride and Prejudice

Aslaug

She loves true crime

Sits down with a glass of wine she can periodically sip

Shakes her head at narrators that are boring

If you say true crime is lame, you’re banned from eating from her charcuterie board

Yes she makes them herself, yes they are perfect

Bjorn

Freaked out by the TV

Once he calms down he starts to like the mcu (derogatory)

‘there’s just too much wokeness’

Stfu Bjorn

Ubbe

Adores sitcoms

Especially modern family and derry girls

There’s just something about them

It’s totally not the non-toxic chaotic family vibes

Tunes in for them on weekends

Hvitserk

He really likes the Mandalorian and the Witcher

It’s totally not the gruff warrior unexpectedly adopting a young child

(please someone write this fic with Hvitserk)

He demands a baby yoda plushie

Cries whenever adoptee gets separated from dad

Totally does not live on the found family tag on ao3 (ofc he reads fanfic he’s not uncivilized)

Sigurd

One word: FLEABAG

Religiously (haha) watches this show

Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a god amongst men

HAIR. IS. EVERYTHING.

Also cries for three hours after watching everything, everywhere, all at once (same, and also, this movie is so good)

Ivar

HE IS NOT AFRAID OF HORROR MOVIES, GOT IT???

HE’S A MAN AND A VIKING

Screams at jumpscares, throws the snacks in shock

Loves the BCU (what is that you may ask? The Barbie Cinematic Universe, obviously)

Deeply relates to Raquelle in Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse

Don’t tell him you know he watches it or you won’t wake up tomorrow

Helga

Watches baking shows with Hvitserk

They have a whole ritual around it, and they never EVER miss it

Not even when there’s major events going down

Power outage? You bet Hvitserk has a fully charged powerbank to livestream the show with his mobile data

Helga bakes the treats from the prior week and eats them while watching

Floki

Watches the weird conspiracy shows that run at like 11pm

Fully believes them

Get him away from the TV

Like literally. He already is a flat earther, you don’t need to add to that

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underscorewriting · 1 year

Note

Could you do one where the reader is Lagertha younger sister and in a relationship with ivar the boneless

this. this is the one I might be the most excited for to write!

Thank you for your request :)

May the gods forbid.

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Language probably?

Words: 2.425

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was. He wasn't supposed to happen. The gods were playing tricks on her, this couldn't be real. She wanted to hate him, hate how he despised her sister. He was a smartass, an arrogant little boy with anger issues if something didn't go his way.

One son of Ragnar was her greatest fear for her younger sister. Ivar. He was unpredictable and even though the girl was taught how to fight, Lagertha knew that she would not be good enough to protect herself from him. That was the main reason why Lagrtha forbid her sister to leave her side. Lagertha was always very protective of her, even more when the sons of Aslaug and Ragnar started planning to kill her or hurt her the same way she hurt them by killing their mother.

So one night when the girl was upset and searched for a place to hide away, she walked into the woods. Flokis and Helgas place always brought her the most comfort when her and Lagertha fought, those were the times she thought the girl was quietly in her chamber. Sitting down in a small meadow, she leaned back, watching the stars, inhaling the fresh air.

Rustling behind her made her hand quickly shoot to the dagger she kept on her thigh. "Well don't you look cozy." The cold voice of the prince made her flinch as she sat up completely, her body being on alert if he tried anything. "What do you want, Ivar?" The exhaustion from was as clear in her voice and how she said his name as it was on her face. She didn't want to live like this. To live a life that held nothing for her, since she wasn't allowed to do much. Even her nephew Björn was always watching over her when he was here.

Tilting his head Ivar studied her face for a second before crawling over to her and settling down besides her. "I decided I won't kill you." He pursed his lips looking over at her a playful glint in his eyes. "Not yet at least." A small smile pulled at her lips as she averted her face. "Ubbe told us about how Lagertha screamed at you. She was always quiet..." A stern glare from the girl made the boy hold his hands up in defense, a small smirk on his face as he saw her hand moving away from the dagger, finally starting to relax.

Ivar was a simple man, his plan to kill Lagertha was only left uncompleted due to his attraction to her little sister and now having her here in front of him was something he didn't know he longed for. Looking back up at the sky she sighed in frustration. "How is the world out there? You traveled didn't you?" Sitting up straight she turned to him.

The young princes eyebrows raised in surprise as he smiled slightly. "The world is huge, it has so much to see." pouting slightly the girl cursed her sister as she listened to Ivars stories. He told her all about Wessex and the people there, how different their belief are from theirs, which she as well found hilarious. As the night turned colder they took the path back to their home. Not once did they stop talking about what he saw out there and what she would want to see once she'll get out there.

"Gods, I want to see the world, Ivar." Smiling softly she twirled and inhaled the fresh air. Watching her Ivar felt his heart swell at the sight of her carefreeness. "I want to show it to you." His tone was serious and when she looked at him she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Ivar..." Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking her head she sat down in the dirt near a haystack.

"We can't. Lagertha would never allow this. She wouldn't allow us, Ivar..." She was desperate for him to understand that this would never happen, but he was not having any of it. He would take what he want and if he wanted to have her, then he was going to have her. "Your sister does not control you, nor does anyone else. You should be able to live your life how you want it to be, the gods forbid that you won't live it to the fullest."

Looking around she kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll meet with you in the meadow tomorrow night, don't be late!" She turned around as she quickly ran to her chambers, smiling brightly at him before entering. The young prince couldn't help but grin at her actions, feeling a little giddy himself.

After that night they started sneaking around at night, only sharing small meaningful glances at each other when they passed one another or during a feast. Soon Lagertha grew suspicious, but not because she noticed any of the glances, no, it was because suddenly her sister started training more, stopped questioning her about being able to travel. It was as if she suddenly stopped caring about all that.

Ubbe offered to train with her, Lagertha trusted him so she allowed him to take her sister to the woods during the day as well. Ivar told his brothers about her and how he wanted to see her at any costs as much as he could. In the woods the four of them would train, Ivar didn't trust Sigurd close to her, due to disgusting glances he threw her way when she was merely visiting them over the past years.

She soon found herself growing closer to the brothers and feeling accepted by them. Freedom, was so close she could almost taste it. Walking with Ivar at night was her newly found escape, after he got his greave done for his legs and fixed up his crutches they could even hold hands while walking. Him rubbing her hand soothingly with his thumb, placing ocationally kisses onto her palm , whenever she talked about something that upset her. He enjoyed listening to her almost as much as her gentle kisses he would get to feel whenever his pain was unbearable.

They balanced each other nicely and after a few months the word marriage appeared more and more in their talks about their future. The girl was scared of how her sister would react to her and the youngest Ragnarsson being inseparable and spent every minute they could together.

But she didn't need to tell her, because one day during her and Ubbes training lessons, while she was play fighting with Ivar . Lagertha walked up the path, none of them noticed her sharp eyes watching. Ivar had her pinned down, laughing while she tried to push him of before rolling over and sitting on his stomach, having the prince at her mercy making her grin down at him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk were watching them, drinking ale and laughing at what the other said. Lagertha was disappointed in her, why didn’t she tell her that they were lovers? She continues watching them and filled an old familiar pain in her heart. Ivar was holding her sister now, not strong enough to hurt but strong enough to let her know he had control over the situation but her sister seemed completely fine with it as she leaned into his chest looking up at him with gentle eyes and a loving smile.

Ivars smile matched hers and in this exact moment Lagertha realized that she kept her sister protected from the most beautiful thing out there, a thing she herself shared with Ragnar even after his death. Love. Ivar was similar to Ragnar in many ways, but with her in his arms he resembled his father more than anyone would guess. Of course, she didn’t want her sister to be with someone like Ivar, he was dangerous, but if it is him that makes her as happy as she is right now, then that is all she would ask for.

Returning to her throne back in the great hall Lagertha couldn’t stop thinking about how she should’ve noticed the signs. Ivar was more around than he used to be, it wasn’t his normal behavior. Besides he was being a lot kinder than usual. As Torvi entered the great hall she noticed how lost in thoughts the queen was. „What is the matter?“ She said as she walked next to to sit down by her side. „Did you know about Ivar and my sister?“ Lagertha turned to Torvi catching the younger woman smile apologetic. „Ubbe said I wasn’t supposed to tell you, I apologize.“

As she heard giggles and laughter she could tell the four of them were coming closer, she prepared herself to confront her sister about this. But how was she supposed to? She was spying on her when she found out, not having had one good reason to walk out there in the woods except to check up on her actually being there. Ubbe was the first one to walk into the great hall, he noticed something was up when Torvi didn’t greet him right away. The girl was still outside giggling and whispering. Her whispers could be heard in the whole hall. Quietness settled in as the last three of them walked in, the girl walking a little behind but smiling brightly whenever Ivar would turn around to see if she was still there with him.

„Hello sister!“ The girl greeted and smiles brightly at Lagertha. The queen did not respond, making her feel uneasy as she glanced toward Ubbe, who sighed quietly looking down. Instantly the girl knew what was going on. Panicking she walked closer to her, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked back to Ivar in reassurance. „It isn’t like you think…“ Lagerthas raised an eyebrow making the girl feel even more uneasy. „Well then how is it? Because it looks like my sister is keeping secrets from me. Keeping secrets because she thinks I don’t want to see her happy or loved.“

The girl gasped softly wondering just how much her sister had seen. „Lagertha, I promise you I do not have any intentions behind my bond with your sister. It’s about her not about you or how you killed my mother.“ Ivar broke the silence looking at Lagertha with pure hatred but his eyes seemed to soften when he looked over at the girl standing close to her. The girl flinched at Ivars harsh words. The woman on the throne couldn’t stop herself from laughing. „I did not even think about that for a second Ivar, because you wouldn’t even be able to.“

„Sister, Ivar would be capable of ruling over Kattegat just as well as you are. His ideas for this village are incredible. If you would just listen to them you’d see how capable he would be to do everything he wanted to.“ With wide eyes the girl just realized what she said, covering her mouth she looked down. „I’m sorry I spoke out of tune.“ Lagertha studied her and saw a lot of how she acted because of Ragnar in her sister, smiling slightly. As her eyes wandered to Ivar, she caught him smirking, his eyes glistening with pride and love as his eyes wandered over her figure.

Getting of her throne Lagertha stopped only in front of her. Her hand went up to cup her cheek, making the girl flinch. The boy tried to crawl over to them making sure the girl stayed unharmed, but Ubbe held him back making the young boy fight against his hold. „He makes you happy, doesn’t he?“ Lagerthas voice was quiet as she smiled down at her sister softly. Nodding her head the girl looked back up at her. „More than anything.“ Her eyes held a sincerity that the woman saw rarely. She was a bit taken aback by her truthfulness. Of course, she was upset about it having to be Ivar. Hvitserk would’ve been easier to accept but sadly that’s not what happened. „How could it be him, he is cruel and no good for you, my sweet sister…“ She could see Ivar lowering his head, knowing that Lagertha was right about him being cruel, not being good enough for the girl.

„He wants to show me the world. He isn’t cruel, he is just easy to upset and in pain, Lagertha…“ Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how bad Ivars legs had been these past weeks. „The gods are cruel to him sometimes, so I pray. I pray to them to stop it and he starts to feel better. He is not a cruel man, Lagertha. He just isn’t!“ Her hands were trembling as she clenched them into fists. Lagertha could only stare at her in shock. For how long was their relationship kept a secret from her? „How long did you feel like this about him?“ She grew angry for being held in the dark that long. „All of this started a little over six months ago…“ The girls head hung low as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Looking at her hand she noticed a little mark on her ring finger looking over at Ivar she saw the same small mark on the same finger. „You’re thinking about marriage…“ She gasped quietly taking a step back from her sister. „I accept your decision, but I do not support it. Though I will give you my blessing only because I haven’t seen you happy like this in ages. You are my little sister and I love you and I want you to be loved. As much as I don’t like Ivar, I have to say that he truly seems to love you and care for you.“ Smiling widely the girl hugged her sister tightly, throwing her arms around her. „Thank you!“ She repeated those words until she turned to Ivar grinning at him shyly.

Ivar walked over to her cupping her cheek before he kissed her forehead and leaned his against hers. „I told it would work out somehow, my love. May the gods forbid anything would part us until we both are on our way to dine with the gods in Valhalla.“

Lagertha couldn’t fight the smile as she watched the both of them. Even though she disliked Ivar, she was certain he would treat her right. Maybe even better than Ragnar treater her. She could tell in his smile, in his eyes, in every action towards her sister, that he adored her.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x reader #ivar fluff #ivar imagine #vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar the king #ivar x you #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar fanfic #vikings ivar #modern ivar #ivar x oc #ivar vikings #ivar smut

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vikingsbigbang · 1 year

Text

Let's Round 'em Up!

We'd like to apologize for the small delay in our round-up post. We have now collected every fic, teaser and art in one handy post for you to find! Take a dive in (beneath the 'readmore') and please leave our writers and artists some love!

1. The Shepperd and The Lamb by @heavenlymorals, art by @nothingtolosebutweight

Category: Gen Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word count: 9,3k Warnings: none Summary: Instead of honoring their promise of sending the young heathen, Ivar, back to Norway, the royal family instead put him under the care of the warrior bishop, Bishop Heahmund, to shed his heathen ways.

2. Strife within London by @emma-ofnormandy, art by @therealvikingstrash

Category: F/M Rating: Mature Word count: 11,2k Warnings: none Summary: Determined to prove those closest to the crown are responsible for the shrinking coffers in London, Emma brings the evidence she has gathered to Canute’s attention, expecting they both would come together and make a plan. Instead, she is reminded that London has not changed as much as she had thought under the reign of her second husband and it will take a certain touch to mend the bridge that was burned.

Author's promo can be found here!

3. The Lost Daughter by @northernxstories, art by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog

Category: F/M Rating: Explicit Word count: 22,5k Warnings: Character Death, Pandemic Summary: In this modern AU, Angrboda was lost to her family when a pandemic swept the world shortly after her fifth birthday. They became trapped on opposite sides of the wall that cut off the territory of Kattegat from the rest of the world. One of a dozen Sealed Territories around the world, Kattegat is assumed to be a dead city almost two decades later. When a team of scientists plan to breach the wall, Angrboda or Bodi as she is now known, schemes her way into the group with the help of her adopted sister, Sumi, and in order to do so, Bodi must hide her connection to the community. Once there, Kattegat is nothing like she expected. Faced with new information and unexpected connections, Bodi must decide if she'll remain true to the life she has built or find her home in Kattegat once again.

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4. veild the pole by @cerberusian, art by @nothingtolosebutweight

Category: M/M Rating: Explicit Word count: 6k Warnings: Dub-Con, Violence, Incest Summary: He thought he was dreaming when Ubbe came in. Ubbe had no reason to be here, except that Hvitserk wanted him here; so he must be a figment of Hvitserk's imagination.

5. Down With The Dust by @ulfrsmal, art by @underragingwaves

Category: M/M Rating: Explicit Word count: 11.5k Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, consent issues Summary: Stranded in Constantinople and in dire need of money to return to Norway and claim what was rightfully his, Harald hadn’t thought twice before pitching this idea to Leif – there were few things more delectable than admiring the raw power in his half-naked Greenlander – yet now Harald could see what bubbling rage could do… and started to doubt whether this had been a good idea after all.

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6. Pale On Pale by @bouncehousedemons, art by @therealvikingstrash

Category: F/F Rating: Explicit Word count: 6k Warnings: Violence, Gore, Character Death, cannibalism Summary: Kwenthrith does not remember going into the woods. She simply remembers waking up with an insatiable blood lust and a peculiar feeling that she is something "other". What Kwenthrith is not aware of is that she is now a succubus. It will take the deaths of many men and the ultimate test of her friendship with Judith before she realises she must either seek salvation or learn to live with her curse.

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7. Seafarer by @sigridsdottir, art by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog

Category: F/M Rating: General Audiences Word count: 3,2k Warnings: none Summary: One day Ubbe's childhood companion realizes that perhaps she feels more for him than she originally thought and only when they are separated do they see how desperately they need one another.

#vikings #vikings: valhalla #vbb23 #vikingsbigbang23 #fandom event

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mrsalwayswrite · 2 years

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 17

I'm back! I'm so sorry its taken me months to update. Life took a turn for the busy. During this time I've had people ask and I promise I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, even if it takes me months to update. I'm enjoying this story too much, and I hope you are too.

Also this chapter was a tough one to write. So I suggest you buckle up your seatbelts because the angst train is here since its Ivar's POV! Hopefully the length also makes up for the wait!

min skatt– my treasure

Words: 9400

Warnings: language, implied drug use, mild sexual content, brief mentions of violence, Ivar doesn't handle feelings well

Series Masterlist

Ivar fucked up.

He knew it. His family knew it. Hell, it might as well be broadcasted on global news at this point.

He had fucked up.

Severely.

That thick, tar-like feeling of betrayal had coated his nerve endings, dulled his mind and made his black heart stone-cold. The sensation of betrayal was not unusual, but he hated it. With every cell of his body, he loathed it. Anger was an escape, a way to get out of the suffocating void that betrayal tried to drown him in. So he latched onto the familiar burn of anger, a welcomed friend by this point in his life.

But when the fire burned out, when he could see past the comforting haze of red…it was to the sight of fear in Kari's blue-green eyes and tears running down her cheeks.

Immediately, he knew he fucked up in the worst way possible. And when she ran from him, he could not blame her. Even if every step she took away from him was a knife repeatedly to the gut. But her expressive eyes, they told him how badly he had messed up. She had dealt with plenty of his shit but this…this was the line crossed. He could not even get mad at her for it, for self-loathing had wrapped its tentacles around him and squeezed.

He had lost her. His gift from the gods. His kitten.

His Kari.

He vaguely remembered screaming and demanding his brothers and Floki release him. Could barely recall landing a solid punch to Sigurd that busted his knuckles and broke his brother's nose. Somehow he ended up on the floor whimpering her name with cold tears slipping from his eyes as Floki kept his arms wrapped around him, either to keep him restrained or to comfort, Ivar was unsure. But it did not matter.

In a single moment, he knew he had lost her.

And it was his own fucking fault.

When Ragnar returned later, Ivar could barely get words to come out, his tongue felt heavy and his stomach full of stones. His father had taken one look at him and sighed.

"Leave her alone. I told her you'd stay away. Don't make me fucking put security on you to keep away from her. She's got enough shit to deal with now."

Ivar nodded silently. Promising himself he would.

But the next day he broke that promise.

It was an all-consuming need to see her, to check on her, to make sure she did not despise him as much as he did himself. He tried to sneak away, however idiotic that was. A crippled bastard trying to sneak out of the house, where every footfall was as loud as a gong. Standing at the door, phone in hand to call a driver, Floki had found him. He took one look at the child of his heart and told him to get into his car. That he would drive him, but only this once.

Ivar was unsure what he had expected when choosing to visit Kari. Hell, he was not even sure she would be home. All he knew was at some point during the night, while he laid awake on his bed, sleep evading him like a mocking ghost, he knew he had to see her. Fuck what Ragnar said.

When she walked away, she had taken part of his heart with her. Whoever cliché that sounded, and he would never admit it aloud. Yet that was how it felt. And now he needed to know if he would ever get that blackened, bleeding organ back from her delicate, gentle hands.

In his mind, the best case scenario of his unexpected arrival would involve her running into his arms, him reassuring her he never meant to hurt her, immediately followed by hot make-up sex that lasted for hours.

The worst case scenario? He would walk in the door and she would shoot him. No…he would walk in the door and she would coldly tell him she never wanted to see him again, that whatever they had was over and how much she hated him. He would gladly take being shot instead of hearing her say anything like that.

What he walked in on- seeing her curled up on the couch, with red-rimmed eyes and tear stains on her cheeks- that felt like someone took a whip at what remained of his heart and attempted to shred it.

When he happened to notice the faintest discoloration along her jawline…the lashings began in earnest.

Then her words, her hesitation. It all tore at him.

"I need time, Ivar."

Another lashing of the whip.

But he absorbed the pain, welcomed it because he deserved every stroke. What he did was unforgivable, but somehow he hoped she would.

Gods, he hoped she could forgive him.

He did not linger, feeling his concrete reinforced composure cracking under the weight of his self-loathing and turmoil.

Thankfully, Floki never said a word when Ivar reentered the car. Nor did he question when Ivar put in a food order to be delivered to Kari.

Afterwards, the entire drive was silent.

Back at the house, he could feel Floki's shrewd gaze on him but he ignored it. He only spared his brothers a glance before retreating to his room. To the isolation and darkness there. To where he could cry without anyone seeing.

At some point that despair morphed into anger and before he realized it, he found himself in the home gym. He had no recollection of walking out of his room and to the gym. But in the moment, it did not matter. All he cared about was ruthlessly pounding on the punching bag.

All of his self-loathing. All of his anger directed at himself, at his family, at the whole fucking world. All of his pain and despair. All for it he poured into his punches. Each slam of his fist on the fabric drained a little more from the reservoir overflowing inside of him.

When his bones broke under the onslaught, he never relented.

As blood splattered the bag, the floor and himself, he persevered.

His whole vision had tunneled into needing to feel the pain, into pouring out his frustration. He breathed in the pain and let it wash over him.

He was not one for going to church, none of the Lothbroks were. But this. Each punch. Each sharp stab of pain. Each coating of blood flying from his own body. It all felt like a penance. It was no Hail Mary or Our Father. But this was even more raw, more real for Ivar.

For he knew blood. He knew pain.

What better way to atone for his sins than to punish himself with both?

He was unsure how long he slaved away at his personal penance until they found him.

Ubbe and Hvitserk pinned him to the floor. His blood stained their hands. His heart and lungs were in overdrive yet his mind was blissfully silent. He could vaguely hear Floki say something about a broken hand and they needed to take him to the hospital.

The rest of the night was spent with nurses and doctors, x-rays and a black cast on his hand and forearm. The sterile smell of the hospital burned his nose. The grating voices of the hospital staff asking questions and reading his extensive records irritated him.

But he kept silent.

All he could hope for, all he could pray for, was his atonement could somehow make up for his sins. That his blood shed could replace the pain he caused.

That his offering would be enough.

*****

The following day he spent in solitude. No matter how many times someone knocked on his door, he never answered. The one time Hvitserk tried to stick his head in, Ivar threw a drinking glass at him. Immediately after, Ivar cursed himself for the now shattered glass on the carpet. He knew he was acting pitiful yet he could not seem to rise above the deep well of depression and its thick cords wrapped around his body, dragging him further into its dark depths.

The only person he willingly chose to answer was his mother, but that was more out of self-preservation when she continuously called him for three minutes straight without stopping. The conversation had been brief and then he returned to watching TV while laying on his bed, trying his hardest to ignore the cast on his right hand and forearm and how much it fucking sucked to deal with.

At some point during the day, he had tossed his phone across the room, uncaring whether it broke or not. The temptation, the need, to text Kari, to call her, to profusely apologize and beg for her forgiveness was too much. She said she needed time. So he was going to damn well give it to her.

Fuck, if he could just forget it all for a while. Instead of drowning in thoughts of her. Of his self-loathing. Of how he always fucked up the best things in his life.

The next day an idea came to mind, a way to find a temporary reprieve from the swirling vultures of his thoughts.

He just needed his brother's help.

*****

Ivar and Hvitserk settled back onto the couches, the short table in front of them already with beers waiting for their pleasure. The loud thumping from the bass of the club's speakers could be felt in Ivar's chest. The shrill cries of the inebriation mixed with excitement filled the air as much as the music.

He pointedly ignored the fact, this was the very place he first met Kari and became consumed by her.

Ivar's fierce blue eyes scanned the crowd from his advantageous position about the main floor. For a Sunday night, the dance floor was packed and the line along the bar was full. He wondered if there was a special event or celebration causing it to be busier than normal. Not that he truly cared. The more people the better for his plan.

"So why are we here, Ivar?"

He looked over at his flaxen-haired brother. "I needed to get out."

"Yeah? Well I'm personally shocked this is the place you'd choose." Hvitserk waved to someone walking by that called his name but swiftly returned his attention to his younger brother. "So why are we here?"

"I told you–"

"And I'm calling bullshit, Ivar."

Ivar scoffed, taking a long draw of the beer in front of him. Only after initially reaching for the beer with his right hand and belatedly remembering it was in a cast before grabbing it with his left. It was a miracle he had not needed surgery for all the broken bones in his hand and wrist. The dumbass that he was, he had not even thought to wrap his hands before pummeling the punching bag. But what was another surgery to him? What was more broken bones to his crippled body? Physical pain was his closest companion. But this constant ache in his heart, this roiling torment, it was more than he could bear.

Hvitserk sighed. "I know you're hurting– don't give me that look, asshole– it's obvious to everyone with eyes. Look, if you wanted to just get drunk, we could have done that at home. So why are we here? Do you need a distraction? Someone to suck your cock? Is that why we're here?"

Ivar leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, mirroring his brother's pose. "I need something to get me out of my fucked up mind for a while."

"Okay…I'll go order a bottle of–"

"No," Ivar interrupted, "I need something else. I need the good stuff, Hvits."

Hvitserk blinked for a moment before immediately shaking his head and leaning back, as if distancing himself emphasized his refusal. "Ivar, no."

Ivar waited a second before continuing. "You know who has the best quality, who doesn't fuck around."

"Ivar….I don't do that anymore–I won't…not this."

The youngest Lothbrok understood his brother's hesitation, his wariness. It was a closely concealed secret of their family about Hvitserk's prior drug addiction and how it had almost killed it. He had been clean for close to two years now, but Ivar knew he still had connections even if he did not partake in the sampling anymore.

Ivar continued to stare at his older brother, just waiting. He knew he was an absolute, selfish bastard for asking this favor. Hvitserk had tried to protect his youngest brother as much as possible while he struggled with his addiction, and this was the one dark spot in Hvitserk's life that he tried to forget about or ignore. But right now, Ivar would do whatever necessary to get a break from his emotional pain. Including lying to his brother.

Hvitserk ran a hand down his face. "Just this once."

"Just this once." Ivar agreed.

He stood up, giving Ivar one more long look as if hoping Ivar would change his mind. When Ivar only stared back, Hvitserk shook his head, and wandered off with a "stay here" over his shoulder.

The dark-haired Lothbrok leaned back on the couch, arms across the back and surveyed the crowd once again. Years ago he had experimented with different substances, usually alongside Hvitserk, but while his brother enjoyed the sensations, Ivar did not. His mind was his greatest weapon, his most prolific asset. He disliked having his senses affected and his mind sluggish or useless. There had also been one too many accidents that left him in the hospital due to broken bones or lacerations that made him rethink the continued use. He did not mind getting a buzz from drinking, it was almost an obligation during family events, but he still felt in control then.

Tonight though, he wanted out of his head. Even for a little while.

Feeling eyes on him, his predatory gaze shifted towards the half stairs leading up to the restricted seating area. His blue eyes locked with a pair of bright green ones, belonging to a blonde with a black and gold dress that hugged her fit form like it had been painted on. He continued to watch her, curious to see what she would do next. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze head-on, running a finger along the low neckline of her dress.

A smirk grew on Ivar's face as he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over.

It did not take long until his cock was down her throat.

He allowed the sweet bliss to fill him, to cloud his mind and focus on the pleasure her skilled tongue gave him. But even then, it was still Kari's name on the tip of his tongue when he came.

*****

Darkness swaddled Ivar in its cocoon of warmth, keeping him safe and at peace. Here, nothing mattered. In the darkness, he was nothing and everything. A serenity floated through and around him, even when his dreams were caked in blood and screams. Nothing could touch or harm him….

….until the abrupt sensation of cold water splashed across his face, delivering him back to the realm of the living.

"Fuckkkk….what the fuck?" Ivar groaned after jerking awake and wiping the water off this face. Now his pillow was wet. Whoever disturbed him was going to fucking die. Well, once the pounding in his head, echoing his heartbeat, stopped and pain no longer flared behind his eyelids. Fuck, the nausea churning in his gut threatened to escape its weak confines. His stomach itself was attempting to claw its way out of his body. Why did everything fucking hurt? What kind of hangover from hell was this?

"Mmm….what's going on, baby?" A sleep-laced, feminine voice said from beside him.

Her voice grated against his ears, only intensifying the psychotic marching band that had taken up residence in his brain. "Shut the fuck up." He growled as he screwed his eyes shut.

A signature giggle came from the end of the bed, quickly followed by, "does your head hurt? That's a shame."

Fuckkkkkkkk……

Silently, Ivar begged all the gods he knew of to kill him now. He could not deal with that deranged madman today. His whole body was revolting against him at the moment. Even his thoughts staggered and rolled like a drunken sailor onboard a ship. Why was everyone talking so loudly? Was it even possible for sound to hurt this much?

Of course, because the universe hated him and despised him since birth, the feminine voice began shrieking and flailing about on the bed. The hammers striking against his brain with each heartbeat magnified their strength, as if wielded by gods themselves. He groaned loudly, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead, wishing death on everyone who dared to make a single sound.

Finally, when he could not take her wordless panicking anymore, he rolled over (his stomach reminding him of the physical revolt it was currently throwing) and slapped his hand harshly over the woman's mouth.

"Shut up!"

After a moment, he could feel her give a slight nod and only then did he release her. With that, he finally opened his eyes. The morning light blazed through the window, the curtains fully drawn back allowing maximum light into the room. His eyes slammed shut once more, refusing to suffer another level of torture.

"Fucking sadists." He mumbled, pressing his face back into his damp pillow. He must have spoken loud enough because that signature giggle followed his statement, sending another wave of pain shooting through his brain.

Fingers abruptly started running through his hair and down his bare back. An attempt at soothing him but instead it did the opposite. His body stiffened and his fists clenched even as he laid face down on the bed.

"Don't touch me." He hissed through clenched teeth.

The fingers stilled.

Carefully he tilted his head and peeked over at the woman beside him. What he saw made him immediately regret it and curse his subconscious desires. She had brown hair that most likely had been straightened last night but was now sleep-tousled, with hints of curls returning. The mascara and eye shadow around her blue eyes was smudged. Full lips sat under a small, straight nose.

Wordlessly, Ivar turned away from her and felt his heart crack at the sight. He knew what it was and hated what his drunk self had done. With just that single glance, he knew his drunk self had chosen her for the faint similarities she had with Kari. Apparently his subconscious would only bring someone like her into his bed now. Gods, what was fucking wrong with him?

"Get out."

"What?" She questioned softly, her hand still on his shoulder.

He turned his head to glare at her. "Fucking leave."

"But baby…you said last night that you needed me. You made me promise to stay."

And there was the knife twisting in his gut, but he ignored the pain. He needed her and her irritating touch gone. He needed to wallow in his pain alone and without someone to remind him of his mistakes. Why the fuck would his drunk self pick her? What kind of masochist was he?

He closed his eyes, no longer willing to look at her. Someone that would never fulfill the throbbing ache in his chest. "Leave or I'll gut you."

He could sense the warring within her, the confusion and hesitation, and he wondered what else he had blathered at her about last night. What lies and promises had he spewed at her, even if it was truly another person those words were meant for.

"I suggest you go. I'm not in the mood to clean up blood today." Another bodiless voice said from somewhere in the room.

Ivar turned his head towards the voice but kept his eyes closed. "Hvits?"

"Morning, brother."

"Ugh. Fuck you."

His brother's answering chuckle made Ivar want to stab someone. Repeatedly.

The bed began to shift as the Kari look-alike started to get out, but when she tugged on the blanket to cover her nakedness, Ivar yanked the blanket back. He heard the quiet, surprised gasp but there was no remorse in him. She could parade naked down to the lobby for all he gave a shit. Shuffling and footsteps followed a clicking of what he assumed was the bathroom door.

"Here, you ungrateful bastard. Move that ass."

Ivar rolled over and carefully sat up. The room spun like a carnival ride and he held his head for a long moment, swearing and cursing amidst the pain. Once he was able to overcome the rising nausea, he accepted the water and pills, knowing he needed them since he doubted the two intruders would leave him alone anytime soon. Damn them.

As he sipped on the water, the bathroom door opened. The woman came out, wearing a maroon dress that looked like someone had taken artistic license to while wielding a knife. She met his eyes, holding one black heel. But whatever she was hoping for, Ivar refused to give her. He slid his gaze away from her, focusing straight ahead and the ugly artwork in the hotel room he found himself in. What hotel was this? It did not look familiar. He heard her scoff and her footsteps move towards the door.

"Hvitserk, help her out." The asshole said, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Sure."

After the door closed, a pregnant silence fell on the two left in the hotel room. Ivar continued to sip on the water, staring straight ahead. The throbbing in his head felt relentless and his body ached as if he had gone a few rounds in the boxing ring. He thought about asking for someone to close the curtains, but his companion began speaking and it overshadowed his internal pain.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my daughter in the woods?" Floki quietly asked.

Ivar's ears perked up, even as he kept staring forward. Floki hardly talked about his only child. Ivar had vague memories of her, influenced by his own young age since they were born a year apart. But he could never forget how at four years old she had died from leukemia. One of his earliest solid memories was watching Floki silently weeping as he cradled a hysterical Helga to his chest, his eyes never straying from the pyre he had built for his daughter's body.

Without waiting for Ivar's answer, he continued. "Hmmm….it was one of the few times she wasn't in the hospital. She was like her mother, always wanting fresh flowers, listening to the birds' sing, smiling at the sun. It was…" He sighed, and Ivar could hear the pain and regret in the man's voice.

"I needed a new tree for a boat and I promised she could come with me. She was so small for her age, so fragile. I got distracted…found the perfect tree and was measuring it. But that was long enough for her to wander off. The panic I felt, Ivar, I can't tell you the complete goddamn terror I experienced as I tried to find my little girl. When she didn't reply as I screamed her name…I thought she'd–" This time he shook his head. "I finally found her, watching birds in the trees above. I scolded her severely, made her cry, but then I hugged her like my life depended on it. I'll never forget the terror I felt that day. Even though it's been over twenty years and she's been gone just as long. I'll never forget." The last sentence came out in a whisper, an audible ode to the harrowing event.

The next several seconds passed in silence before Ivar broke it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you know what day it is, Ivar?"

"What? Why does that fucking matter?"

Floki reached out his long arm and swatted the side of Ivar's head. "Because you selfish, crippled bastard, you've been missing for thirty hours."

"The fuck–'"

"Ivar, listen," Floki interrupted before Ivar could question the validity of the statement. "The gods may have taken my daughter but they gifted me you as a son. And the fear I felt when Hvitserk told me he couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone…I should beat your ass. I'm too old to deal with this shit anymore."

Ivar sat mutely, his mind reeling with everything Floki had said. How could he be missing for that long? That made no sense. He remembered going to the club with Hvitserk and his brother bringing him the chosen poison and deliverance he had practically begged for. Then there was a girl with blue eyes….or were they green? He could vaguely recall, like looking through a cloudy window, talking with someone about how they had more of the good stuff at their apartment. He remembered huge tits in his face and a woman moaning his name above him.

He glanced down at his right hand, seeing the cast on it still. There were new drawings and several phone numbers on it now from a bright silver marker. Why could he not remember any of that? When did he arrive at the hotel? What kind of shit had he been on?

Logically, he knew Floki had every right to scold him. It was a miracle it was not Ragnar himself chastising him. All the Lothbroks knew that with their rise in power and business accomplishments, it also painted a target on their backs for any that would seek to undermine or destroy them. For one of them to go missing…that would become paramount. Everything else would screech to a staggering halt until the missing person was returned. And for it to be him…with the vast wealth of information and security locked away in his mind. It could easily eradicate the company and their family if that knowledge was given to the wrong person.

As if sensing where Ivar's thoughts led, Floki softly spoke. "Your father doesn't know. He thinks you've been holed up at home. Hvitserk came to me."

A whoosh of air expelled from his lungs, draining the staggering concern and stress that had momentarily crashed over him. "Thanks." He murmured.

"I know you're hurting. You can't deny what my old eyes see. So I've one question for you…what in the hel are you doing, boy?"

"What are you–"

Floki swatted his head again. "Have you numbed the pain? Do you feel better now?"

"Fuck off. You don't know–"

"And that's where you're wrong again, foolish child. I do know." He leaned forward, forcing Ivar's gaze to meet his, the bed shifting under the movement. "What happened with Kari? I drove you there, if you can even remember. I didn't push you then, but I think I damn well deserve an answer. Saved your dumbass from punching through the bag and now this….what happened?"

Ivar flinched but knew the father of his heart was correct. Especially with it just being the two of them, he knew he could speak freely. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck there. What agony he had tried to temporarily escape flooded him. Wave after wave slammed into his chest, especially with the reminder that even drunk and high, he still craved her. Waking up to find someone not her beside him. The pounding in his head was subsiding but now his heart took the brunt of the pain.

Ripping his gaze away from Floki's, he stared down at the empty cup in his hand. His thoughts and memories swirled and clashed, like an intricate swordplay. But those edges were live and sharp, cutting and slashing at him with every pass. Her face, tears trickling down her cheeks. The fear and pain in her eyes. The mark he left on her. The self-loathing that threatened to shatter his control. The desperate need to forget and escape. Pain and blood. Gods, he has fucked up.

Why did he always fuck everything up?

"She said she needed time." He whispered. "She said….fuck– I can't remember everything, but she didn't want to see me. She said….she knows I'm sorry but she still needed time." His eyes blurred, tears welling in them, as he finally looked back up at his companion. Thick emotion choked his throat, making it hard to speak. "What if she…Floki, I can't lose her. I can't–"

Floki gathered Ivar into his arms and just held him as he cried. The youngest Lothbrok could not remember the last time someone held him as he cried like this, his body quivering with the sobs ripped from his very soul. Most likely his mother or Floki, but that would have been years ago. For he had learned to wrap himself in his anger, allowing his fury to be the suit of armor needed to protect him from the world and all the ways it attempted to rend him apart.

But then she walked into his life, with her soft curves, kind heart and ability to see past all his barriers, to see past the thorns and thistles wrapped around his blackened heart, to hear the faint beating there, and to cherish its sound. For her to choose him, to want him for simply being Ivar.

He was undone by her. And yet, he had never felt more powerful and happy than when he was with her.

Eventually his tears subsided, draining him completely. He leaned back against the headrest of the bed as Floki went to refill his water cup. His body still ached, his stomach unsteady and his head hurt from the hangover and from the crying. It felt like someone had stuck a hose in him and sucked all the vitality out of him, leaving him a dry husk of who he should be, or rung out like a rag and tossed onto the floor to be trampled.

Floki handed over the new cup of water, settling back onto the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, Ivar drank it slowly, even as he suppressed the urge to just chug it. He was not that stupid. It would most likely come back up. And he despised the taste of vomit.

Of course, the old man delved into a new level of cruelty. Instead of sitting silently and allowing Ivar time to recover, he resumed speaking.

The asshole.

"How do you think Kari would feel if she found you like this? Hmmm?" He asked thoughtfully, as if they were speculating about the weather. "Think she'd take your ass back seeing you hungover like this? Or hearing about all the women you apparently fucked? Hmmm? Why should she want you after this?"

Shame rolled in his gut, rising with the nausea he could taste in the back of his throat. "She doesn't want me anymore."

Floki swatted his head again. "Damn foolish boy, can't see past his own nose."

"Stop fucking hitting me." Ivar growled.

"Oh, I'll hit you enough times until you start using that brain of yours." Floki leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, a calculating look in his eyes as he observed the dark-haired Lothbrok. "You want her back?"

Ivar furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"You still want her, yes?"

"What kind of dumb, fucking question is that? She's the reason I–"

"Yes or no, Ivar."

"Yes!" Ivar threw the cup, hearing it hit the nearby wall but kept his gaze locked on Floki's, a tension swirling around them like a rising tide. "Fuck! Yes, I need her! Gods, I miss her so much it hurts!"

"Good." Floki nodded. "You want her back. Now prove it."

"But she said…"

"Yes, yes, she needs time. That doesn't give you the excuse to fuck off and be a disaster. She could still choose you…." Floki's calculating gaze intensified, immediately making Ivar uneasy, "....but not if you're like this. I'll keep her away from you myself if you keep this shit up."

"You wouldn't."

Floki giggled. "Think I won't? I might not know her well, but I do know she deserves better than this." He accused, gesturing to Ivar.

And he was right.

Fuck.

Ivar had always known Kari deserved better than someone like him. She was too pure. Too good. She was the bright, summer sunshine and he was the devastating, dark storm waiting on the horizon. And now…gods, would she even look at him if she knew the self-destruction he had spiraled into because he could not handle her loss? The potential of her rejection. Would she pity him? Would she become even more fearful of him? Would she hate him?

Would she feel betrayed if she knew he had picked someone that looked like her to blindly fuck in a drunken attempt to alleviate his misery? Shit…she would probably never speak to his sorry ass again. And why should she? He had raged at her when hearing she had gone out on a date and here he had been fucking any woman he could.

Why would she want him now? What goddamn right did he had to demand of her loyalty if he could not give his own?

And yet he still wanted her. Still needed her. Would do whatever it took to win her back. To prove how much she meant to him. Even after all the shit he had done. It was still her he thought of constantly, that he wanted by his side, that he wanted to talk to and listen to her laugh, that he wanted to kiss and hold and make love to. Even if fucking was the only thing he knew. He wanted to learn how to make love with her. Floki said to prove it. But how? And the answer to that eluded Ivar.

Slowly, Ivar shifted his gaze back to meet the piercing eyes watching him. He sighed quietly before speaking. "What do I do?"

Floki studied him for a long moment before smiling. "You're coming home with me to Norway. Helga has been asking when you're coming to stay and I want you to see my new boat."

Ivar thought about it then shrugged. "Fine." It was probably the best place for him at the moment anyway.

"Yeah, you ungrateful bastard. I'd drag your ass there anyway. My Helga always gets what she wants."

"You're whipped, Floki."

"Yeah, so are you."

Ivar groaned at the shit-eating grin on Floki's face but could not deny it. Not this time. With all his confessions and actions, it would be futile to try and deny it.

Pushing himself off the bed, Floki started to search around the hotel room. "Where's your clothes, boy?"

"Stop calling me that."

"When you stop acting like a spoiled brat, I will."

"Fuck off."

"No, we've got a plane to catch and I highly doubt you can walk a straight line."

"Fuck me." Ivar groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in resignation while Floki's giggles filled the room.

It took some time for Floki to locate all of Ivar's things. Thankfully, Ivar still had his pants on. Not that it surprised him. Even drunk and high, apparently his subconscious still was overly aware of the state of his mangled legs and did not want others to see them. Amidst copious amounts of swearing, Floki plying him with an excessive amount of water, and only one trip to the bathroom to puke up half of the contents of his stomach, the two of them finally made it out of the hotel.

The morning sunlight burned Ivar's eyes as he stepped outside, refueling the hammering in his head. Squinting, he could see Hvitserk standing just off to the side of the door, smoking a cigarette. Without a word, he moved to join his brother.

"You look like shit." Hvitserk greeted him. "Smell like sex and vodka."

Ivar took the offered cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling it curl in his lungs. "It's an improvement over what you always look like."

His brother snorted, taking the cigarette back. "Here." He handed over a pair of sunglasses.

With a nod of thanks, Ivar slipped them on gratefully.

"Don't ever pull this shit again. I was worried." Hvitserk stated as he handed the cigarette back over.

"I know. I think Floki will kill me if I do."

"Slowly and painfully!" The asshole yelled out from where he stood a few paces away on the phone.

Hvitserk chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.

"You good?"

Ivar thought about his answer, about all the revelation he had received up in the hotel room and what all Floki had said to him. He answered softly, "I will be."

Hvitserk hummed. "Might want to get tested soon. The number of girls who sucked your cock at the club….if I wasn't so pissed at you, I'd say you deserve an award. Then you fucked off when I walked away and I couldn't fucking find you."

Ivar smirked, as he finished off their now shared cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and watching Hvitserk step on it.

The three of them loaded up in Hvitserk's car and headed towards the brothers' house. Head against the window, eyes closed during the drive, Ivar listened to Floki's words replay over and over in his mind. How could he 'prove it'? What did that even mean?

He decided to analyze that more later when he was not hungover and exhausted.

Once they finally made it back to the house, Ivar trudged to his room, ignoring the sounds of his family. What in the hell were they doing here in the late morning? Making a quick side trip to vomit once more then pop some strong pain pills he kept in his bathroom, he grabbed a few essentials from his room to bring with him to Floki's.

Over the years, one of the spare bedrooms in Floki's house had become Ivar's since he spent so much time with them, especially as a child. It was the only place Aslaug would allow her youngest to go without her ever-watchful eyes on him. With the frequency and duration of time spent there, it had become easier to leave a decent amount of clothing and other personal belongings to await his return.

With a backpack slung over his back, he grabbed his cane and his computer bag. That would be sufficient for now. If he needed something later, it would not be hard to have his father or brothers deliver it to him.

Voices coming from the kitchen drew his attention and he headed that way after exiting his bedroom. He could hear Ubbe arguing with someone and mild shock spilled over him to hear Gyda. What the fuck was she doing here? And who the hell pissed her off so badly? However much she tried not to associate with the Lothbrok business and keep herself clear of all that entailed, she was certainly a Lothbrok through and through. Her temper alone was evidence of that.

Stepping into the kitchen, he could see Gyda squaring off to Ubbe, hands on her hips and tension coating every inch of her body. Ubbe stood meeting her gaze head-on, arms over his chest. Hvitserk and Floki stood off to the side, seemingly watching the verbal sparring take place with no intention to intervene. Of course, Hvitserk had food in his mouth, one of his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

Hearing his footsteps and cane tapping as he entered the room, all eyes focused on him. Before he could question what was going on, the tall, blonde female practically flew across the room to shove him. It was only through sheer instinct and luck that he managed to only stumble backward and not lose his balance, having to drop his computer bag to reach out for a nearby wall to steady himself.

"What the fu–"

"If you lay a finger on Kari again, I swear I will castrate you…" Gyda spat through gritted teeth with a vengeful fire blazing in her eyes. "...and then I'll cut off all your fingers, one by one. I don't give a single fuck that you're family. You hurt her again, I WILL come for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Ivar slowly enunciated, fury boiling in his chest at her threats. But for once, he kept his anger in check.

"Good." She took a step back, hands returning to her hips. It was now she eyed him critically, as if seeing him for the first time. "Holy hell, you do look like shit. I'm still pissed enough I'll beat your sorry ass with your own cane though."

"Gyda, leave him alone, alright?" Ubbe said, coming around the large kitchen island. "You delivered your message, that's enough now."

Any other time, Ivar might have sneered at Ubbe attempting to be the peacemaker in the family, like always. But right now, he was too exhausted, too heartsore, too grateful for his older brother stepping in to say anything. It was taking all the miniscule strength he barely possessed to not lash out at Gyda, even if a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Gyda was only standing up for her friend. He met Ubbe's eyes for a moment, hoping he could see the thanks in them before dropping his eyes to his cane in hand.

Floki came over to his side, picking up the dropped computer bag. "Ready?"

He just silently nodded. The frustration and anger coiled and burned in his chest but he bit his tongue for once. Gyda had every right to be pissed at him. Part of him wondered who told her about what happened between him and Kari.

Without a word, Ivar started towards the front door, Floki by his side. The two of them were almost to the door when Hvitserk called out his name, drawing closer.

"Don't stab me, but I'm going to hug you." Hvitserk quickly informed him before doing exactly that. And to both of their astonishment, Ivar readily reciprocated the hug. Neither of them acknowledged the tight grip Ivar had on Hvitserk's shirt, as if in that moment, his brother's touch was the only thing keeping him from crumbling.

"I'll keep an eye on her. I promise." Hvitserk whispered, pulling back enough to press his forehead against his youngest brother's.

"Thanks." Ivar murmured, although it came out more as a strangled croak.

Emotions rising and warring inside him, alongside the unrelenting hangover, he trudged towards the car waiting outside for them. Seeing which driver it was waiting for them, Ivar was thankful it was one that preferred silence instead of background music. Minutes later, they were on the road, heading to the airport and the private Lothbrok plane waiting for them there.

With eyes closed once again, he could not tear his thoughts away from Kari. Not after Hvitserk's comment.

He wondered what she was doing. Was she working today? Had her cramps gotten better? What was she thinking about? Did she miss him yet? It was now he realized how much he looked forward to their conversations, even if it was just over texting. She always made him smile somehow. His own personal sunshine amidst the dark clouds and storm that was his life. His kitten. Did he brighten her day as much as she did his?

An idea popped into his mind and without overthinking it for once, he acted on it.

Less than five minutes later, a bouquet of tulips was on its way to her with his message.

He turned the screen off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Gods, he prayed she liked the flowers. She had said they were her favorite. She would be less likely to toss them in the garbage then, right? Fuck. He hoped she liked the gesture, that it brightened her day.

Floki's advice still swirled in his mind, like a maelstrom. Kari had told him to stay away, that she needed time. He could– no, he would honor that. She needed space from him. And she deserved it. But that did not mean he was going to let her go. Fuck that shit. He needed her. He silently swore to himself to do everything possible to show her how sorry he was for his actions and how much he missed her.

To prove how much she meant to him.

*****

Ivar stared out at the gorgeous scenery spread out before him like a painting masterpiece. The steep walls of the Norwegian fjord rose above the glittering blue river. The trees appeared ablaze with what was left of autumn's colors, transforming summer's green to something warmer. A deception to the present chill in the air, a taste of the coming winter. He could practically feel the impending cold in his bones.

His thoughts though were miles away from the picturesque scenery before him. He tapped his phone absent-mindedly against his leg with his left hand, since his right was still in its cast. Which was thankfully back to its original black and without random phone numbers in it. It had only taken a call to the local hospital to have them willing to redo his cast without any questions. One of the many times Ivar appreciated how easily he could use his name to bypass regulations and rules.

"Did you decide yet?"

"Yeah." A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "I ordered the Armani sweater and Dior jacket."

Helga settled onto the wooden Adirondack chair next to Ivar's, her blonde hair catching in the faint breeze. "I bet she'll love them."

"Hopefully."

"Of course she will." She leaned over, whispering conspiracingly. "Think Floki will buy those for me?"

He chuckled. "If he doesn't, I will."

Laughing, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "I've missed having you here. Even if most of the time, you've been holed up in your room on your laptop."

He rolled his eyes at her pointed look. "I've been working."

"I know. Floki told me. I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping."

His brows pinched together as he tried to figure out how she knew that. Helga typically turned in early and rose with the dawn, quite opposite of Ivar who was a night owl. Aware of that, he made sure to be as quiet as possible when moving around the house, not wishing to disturb her or Floki when he finally retired for the night. At that point, he usually returned to his room but would remain awake for hours more, face illuminated by his computer or phone as he worked feverishly. If he let his mind wander freely too much, it would descend into solemn depths, he would rather avoid.

"Floki told me. He hears you moving around–"

"That asshole never sleeps either." Ivar muttered.

"--and those bags under your eyes are looking like you got into Floki's 'war paint'."

He smirked as the memory came to the forefront of his mind. "If I hide it again, what do you think he'll do?"

"Knowing what happened last time you stole it and drew penises all over the side of his shed….gods, what were you? Fifteen?" She shook her head, unable to fully restrain the amused, fond smile on her face, highlighting the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth.

He grinned mischievously. "I was thirteen, but it was all Hvitserk's idea though."

"Uh huh. I highly doubt that."

The door opening had both of them turning their heads to see Floki stepping out onto the back deck. He stepped out in his usual brown pants and dark, long-sleeve shirt, the tattoos on the sides of his head clearly visible. He must have finished shaving his head before coming out. Ivar silently wondered if Floki and Helga even noticed anymore that their attire always seemed to match in some way. Today, Floki's shirt was a dark, forest green, the color matching Helga's dress, even as it was covered in a floral design. Maybe they were so in tune with one another by this point in their decades long marriage, it was instinctual or unconscious.

A stray thought drifted through Ivar's mind, questioning if Kari and himself would ever be like that….he quickly brushed it away.

"He lives!' Floki gestured towards Ivar as he came closer. "I thought you'd finally died from glaring at your laptop. Save us all from your complaining and moaning. I was preparing to drag your crippled, scrawny ass down and throw you in a funeral boat."

"Like an old, fat fucker like you could carry me."

"Ivar, language!" Helga chastised.

"You see the abuse I have to deal with, min skatt?" Floki plopped on the arm of Helga's chair, wrapping his arm around her and faux pouting. "And I even shared my Brennivín with him."

She poked his side, making him giggle. "You just wanted an excuse to open the new bottle."

He hummed, noncommittally, before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his wife's lips.

Ivar dropped his gaze to his lap. Not because he was uncomfortable with their displays of affection, but because it made his heart ache. He had that and he fucked it up. He had someone to hold and kiss and tease, but he allowed himself to become blinded by perceived betrayal instead of trusting her. Someone who had only ever been genuine and selfless with him.

It was almost a week and a half since he destroyed whatever it was that was blooming between them, something he had never experienced before but craved now with every cell in his deformed body. Six days had passed since he arrived in Norway with Floki.

He had not heard from his kitten since she had texted him in thanks about the food he ordered when he found her on the couch. He could not think about it too much or he knew he would drive himself mad again. The gaping hole in his chest still bled her name, weeped with missing her touch.

He appreciated Floki returning home with him. There was a peace here, tucked away in the woods outside Kattegat, that he had never found anywhere else. Not even in his childhood house in the city. Maybe it was the location? Maybe it was the two people who filled it with pieces of themselves and transformed it from a house to a home? Whatever it was, Ivar was grateful to be here.

The only problem was the silence at night that pursued him. His demons of regret, self-loathing and insecurity stalked him in the darkness, wrapping their claws around his throat to strangle whatever buds of hope tried to blossom in his cheat.

So he threw himself into his work. Ignoring his body screaming for sleep until he passed out from exhaustion or drinking with Floki. He continued to monitor the traitorous fucker, further tightening the strings of his web until soon it would bind the turncoat and keep him immobile.

Then Ivar had lethal plans.

Until then, he kept an eye on other endeavors for Ragnar. Both for the company and off the books, anything to keep his mind busy. More often than not, he would work through the night, not even aware of the sun's arrival until he checked the time. Yet she still invaded his mind with frequency. It certainly did not help that third day, he had drunkenly proclaimed to Floki and Helga, he would send flowers to Kari every day until she took him back.

Floki had laughed.

Helga had sighed then leaned forward and told him to stop sending flowers and send something meaningful.

So far, he had no intentions of ceasing his array of offerings. But he had hoped….wished that by now, she would have texted him. At least thanked him for some of the presents. All he had gotten was radio silence. It burned like ice held against his skin for too long. A permanent chill took up residence in his chest, tightening its grasp on him with each passing day.

He knew she had received the packages. He was notified every time something was delivered but he also had a contact keeping an eye on her for him. Would she never speak to him again if she learned that she was being watched and followed? Most likely. But she already was giving him the silent treatment and he could not with good conscience allow her to be unprotected. He might not be around anymore but that did nothing to lessen his compelling need to keep her safe.

Hvitserk text him frequently, sometimes making a passing comment about how Kari was doing since he checked in with her often. Hearing the snippets of their conversations was both a knife to the chest, twisting and further ripping at his heart but also a cooling balm. To hear she was doing alright and she did not hate his family nor him. That she really did just need time to think.

But how much time? How much longer could he keep waiting? Why would she not just fucking talk to him? Yell at him. Scream until his ears bled. Break one of his bones to help her feel better. Gods, he would let her do anything if it would create a bridge over the void between them.

He just wanted to know if she thought of him as often as his thoughts turned towards her.

Sighing, he glanced down at his phone in his hand, bombarded with alerts and notifications but not from the one person he wanted.

Should he text her? Was it up to him to open that door of communication? But she said she needed time….why was all of this so damn confusing? Why did he have to fuck everything up in the first place?

"I'll go start on dinner." Helga announced, standing up. "Ivar, you should order those books for her next. That was a good idea."

He nodded silently, sending her a small, grateful smile.

After Helga left, the two men sat in the quietness of nature, gazing out over the water and fjord of Norway. A comfortable silence hovered over them.

Suddenly, Ivar's phone started ringing, startling him. With a raised brow, he unlocked the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

"What?"

"How's that vacation of yours?"

"Fuck off."

His father chuckled darkly before clearing his throat and turning serious. "Think you're sober enough to deal with our traitor?"

Ivar tensed, even as his stomach flipped and his fingers twitched in anticipation. "When?"

"Two days."

"Where?"

"Istanbul."

"Good."

Ragnar hummed thoughtly then continued. "He still has no notion we are aware of his activities, correct?"

Ivar snorted. "That goddamn fucker tried to send out information about your supplier in Libya…which does Bjorn even know about this supplier?"

"Not a fucking word, Ivar."

"Yeah, figured." Ivar scoffed, his hand tapped repetitively on his knee as his mind raced. "I'll leave tomorrow. Get everything ready there."

"Excellent. Tell Floki I need him next week."

"Sure."

The click on his phone notified Ivar that his father was no longer on the line and had not even attempted to end the call with a 'goodbye'. Like normal.

"Ragnar needs you next week." Ivar said, leaning back once again in his seat. Weeks of work, weeks of pouring through files and coded messages while digging deeper and deeper into the mire of corruption and betrayal. All of it would finally come into the light. All his hard work would showcase the snake he had caught, slithering through the henhouse. If only it had known Ivar was the bigger predator, with long-reaching claws and limitless resources.

"Hmmm….and what's got you so happy?" Floki asked, breaking Ivar from his thoughts.

He had not even realized a menacing smile covered his lips. Chuckling darkly, he could almost taste the spilled blood on his tongue. He stared straight ahead as he answered Floki, his gaze no longer seeing the fjord but a dark room where justice would be served. "My web has entangled a snake. And now it's time to rip its fangs out and watch it scream as I bleed it dry."

Tag List:

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To Call Forth Love

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istorkyou · 7 months

Text

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings- Angst, violence, death, smut.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3113

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree

Masterlist

Chapter 14 - Final Chapter

He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.

He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.

One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.

A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.

“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”

He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.

When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.

Coming home. Too dangerous now.

See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.

He texts back quickly.

Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.

As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.

Always and forever, no matter how far apart.

———————

He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.

”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.

Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”

Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”

“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”

Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”

“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”

———————

He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.

It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.

The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.

“Alone?”

“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.

“I missed you so much, Liet.”

“Fuck I missed you so much too.”

They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.

Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”

“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”

Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.

It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.

When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.

“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.

They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.

“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”

“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”

“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”

Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.

“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”

“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”

A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”

A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”

“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”

Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.

She is ready now.

Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.

“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”

He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.

“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”

His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.

The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.

“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”

“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.

She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”

“Tell me more about him, baby.”

They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.

“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”

“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”

“8 hours.”

“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.

Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.

He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”

Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.

————————-

9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.

They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.

“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”

He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”

They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.

—————————

His phone beeps dead on 11am.

Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.

He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.

“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.

“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”

“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”

Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”

Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.

Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”

——————-

Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.

But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.

He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.

His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.

“Liet?”

She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.

“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.

————

The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.

“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”

“I can see that.”

“Shall I take the shot?”

“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.

Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”

—————

Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”

Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.

“In the next life, love,” she says

“Always and forever,” he replies.

She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.

———-

“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”

Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.

———-

Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.

The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.

He will be the best father to their son

For her.

His beautiful Liet.

FIN.

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