#the tale of ragnarssons

[barnes-lothbrok]

"Mirror Mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?"

'Of course it is you, My Queen'

The words etched onto the mirror in blood, the same as they did everytime the queen asked. Although just as quickly as the words appeared, they faded and the mirror wrote again.

'For now that is. For soon there will be one much fairer'

'Her hair will be as white as snow with lips as blood red as a rose.'

'She will capture the heart of the Serpent King. And there you reign will end, My Queen'

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》 《》《》《》

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Challenge

Snow White as the prompt with Ivar as the character. I hope this is ok ♡

It's an attempt at a mood board with a twist on the fairytale.

#cherrypie’s500 #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar the king #ivar au #ivar vikings #snow white #fairy tale au #fairtytale

[karjalantroll]

I love either very cute characters or very crazy ones

#Postal Dude #Postal 2 #Lemminkäinen #chernobyl #mr. arashi's amazing freak show #soichi tsuji #Junji Ito #dungeon ceeper #the blind prophet #batman who laughs #tzekel kan #pinhead #Witold von Everec #ivarr ragnarsson #ivarr the boneless #osmosis jones #Thrax #Snapper #troll tales #klaus margu #hellblade senuas sacrifice #shook lock and barrel #the nightmare before christmas #idk where from that red haired butterfly man sorry #arthur and the minimoys #beetlejuice #Deus EX #witcher gaetan #witcher #rasputin

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Fifteen

Summary: Selene and Edwin finish preparations to send Selene directly back to Toreguarde the afternoon after her final meeting with King Storri.

Words: 2,116

Warnings: None. Enjoy the (mostly) fluffy fluff

Notes: Hello final chapter!!! I am so glad that I've managed to finish this one. What a long and winding road this has been. I hope you enjoy the ending to this massive tale.

tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes , @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help with anything else?” Edwin asked as Selene hoisted her pack onto her shoulder. The wizard shook her head,

“Getting rid of the hangover was more than help enough, Edwin.” she replied, “Thanks again for that, I really didn’t fancy Teleporting all the way back to Toreguarde with that kind of nausea.” she added with a grimace. Chrackle landed on her shoulder and squawked,

“Own fault!” he screeched, nipping at his mistress’ ear, “Told you you’d had too much!”

Selene glared at the magpie and tapped him on the end of his beak,

“I wasn’t about to offend the Low King of Fangthane by turning down his offer, Chrackle. Not when I’d only just managed to get on his good side.”

Edwin bit back his laugh at the outraged look the corvid was giving his human,

“Selene has a point Chrackle.'' He said calmly, “Dwarves tend to get incredibly offended when you turn down the offer of free drink. Believe me, I just about ended up getting written into five separate Books of Grudges and nearly kicked off the Council when I did that once.” 

“Please tell me that that was back when you first took up the ministry here.” Selene groaned, “Because I can guarantee Egrim will be writing you into his if it was recently.”

Edwin held up his hands,

“Oh no, it was definitely early on. “ he said, “Adapting to dwarven culture had a steep learning curve, I’m just grateful that Ragnarsson was able to smooth things over as much as he did.” he added with a chuckle. Selene smiled at her old friend,

“Well, I’m glad you adapted. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here to help with everything.” she said, her voice low. Edwin tried to ignore the skips his heart was making and quickly glanced down to the floor,

“It’s no trouble, really.” he murmured, “I’m just glad that I was able to help out at all.” he looked back up at Selene, clearing his throat, “In any case, you finally have a solution to your problem, and can tell the Toreguarde Council as such, so it’s all good, right?”

“Well, one half of the solution, I still need to figure out a way of getting a hold of the other half.” Selene replied with a sigh, “Given how valuable the stuff is, prising it out of Drakemar’s claws isn’t going to be an easy task. Not to mention the fact that I have about a million other problems to deal with now that the Cabal’s started taking a renewed interest in me.”

Edwin grimaced, placing a hand on Selene’s free shoulder and squeezing it,

“If things do start getting particularly nasty, let me know so I can help.” he said, “Push comes to shove, I won’t have to worry about your Edict getting thrown in my face.” he told her. Selene squeezed his hand and smiled,

“It shouldn’t come to that, but thank you for the offer Edwin.” 

Edwin pointedly ignored the disappointment he felt when Selene let go of his hand and gestured to the door of the room Snorri had let her stay in,

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I believe you have a Teleport to get to.” he said, walking over and opening the door for his old friend. Selene beamed at him and walked through the door, grabbing her staff with a Mage Hand as she went. 

Snorri and Gruk both grinned at the two humans as they came down into the barroom,

“I’m sorry ye can’t stay a bit longer, hen.” Snorri said, “I’d have liked to hear some more stories about the adventures ye both went on.” 

“Personally I’d have preferred the lassie to have had a chance to get some rest afore confronting her own Council.” Gruk grumbled. Selene shook her head,

“As much as I would love to stay and enjoy your hospitality properly, I’m afraid I have too many other obligations to take care of and preparations to make.” she sighed, “Perhaps, once all this is over and done with I can come back for a proper holiday.” she suggested. Snorri shook the human woman’s hand and nodded,

“The door’s always open and I’ll keep the room free fer ye.” he said happily, “Take care o’ yourself and dinna be a stranger.” he told her. Selene beamed at the barkeep and nodded,

“Of course, do take care of yourselves as well. And thank you again.” she said, turning and shaking Gruk’s hand as well. Gruk snorted,

“We’re the ones that should be thankin’ you, lass. But I’ll leave it there afore we all start talking in circles. Safe travels and hopefully we’ll see ye again soon.” 

Selene nodded, sending both dwarves a wave as she, Chrackle and Edwin finally exited the Hammer and Anvil together for the last time. Snorri turned to Gruk, an impish smile on his face,

“So when d’ye think that wedding’s gonna be?” he asked. Gruk scoffed and rolled his eyes,

“The laddie might have it down bad, but I dinna think the lassie’s noticed.” he pointed out. “C’mon, ye promised to give me a hand with getting that stuff down from the loft.”

~*~

Edwin and Selene bowed deeply as High Priest Ragnarsson and Archlector Vanskleig approached them at the door to the Cathedral's Teleportation Room,

“I trust that you are well-prepared for the journey home, Lady Frigidwake?” Vanskleig asked as Selene placed her pack by her feet. Selene nodded, stroking Chrackle’s beak,

“We are, thank you, Archlector. I can only apologise for all the trouble my visit to your home has caused these last few days.” she said. Vanskleig shook his head slowly,

“To be quite honest, my dear, your visit was actually a most fortuitous one.” he replied evenly. He glanced to Rangnarsson, who cleared his throat,

“Indeed. The mere fact that Gruksdottir felt Moradin’s Call to leave Fangthane should have been reason enough for her to travel in your direction. However, recent events prevented her departure, and she had grown increasingly desperate over the last few months. Had you not arrived when you did, I think the front doors may well have suffered a far worse fate.” he explained, “I can only apologise on behalf of the Church for the way you were treated upon your arrival.” 

Selene shook her head,

“There is no need for the apology, High Priest, I was already aware of the general hostility Fangthane felt towards Toreguarde, and should have taken this into account before I made arrangements to travel here. I am just grateful that I finally have a solution to my problem and that it can be rectified.” she replied easily, “I just hope that I can help Meredith permanently close that portal before it’s too late.” 

Vanskleig regarded the human woman with a soft smile,

“Have faith, my dear. As much as I know that the task will be difficult, and test all involved to the utmost of their limits, I have faith that Meredith will succeed in the task laid before her.” he said. Selene turned her attention to the ancient dwarf, a look of dawning realisation spreading across her face. Here was a man who, much like her and Edwin, had seen the worst that Destiny had to throw at him. And had, somehow, survived the ordeal. She grimaced,

“I can only hope that she, and whatever companions she picks up along the way, will not have to face the same horrors we did.” She said quietly, “It’s quite bad enough that I cannot deal with any part of this situation myself without endangering the city I’ve sworn to protect.” 

Vanskleig gently took a hold of Selene’s hands,

“I know you will do what you can, but one’s Destiny can only be changed by the one who has been dealt the hand.” he said, “There will be only so much you can do to help another change theirs. Do not wither yourself by trying.” 

The solemnity with which the Archlector spoke caused Selene’s breath to catch in her throat. As much as she wanted to rail against what he had just told her, as was the nature of all mortal beings, a part of her could not help but acknowledge what he said was Truth. She swallowed thickly and nodded,

“Of course, Your Grace.” she whispered, bowing her head and briefly closing her eyes. Vanskleig squeezed her hands and let them go, stepping to one side to allow the woman access to the Teleportation room,

“Moradin Bless you, child.” he murmured.

Edwin looked between the Archlector and his old friend, shivering as the elderly dwarf spoke. Much like Selene, the Abouna was acutely aware of the Truth of his words, feeling they were directed as much to him as to Selene. The Abouna blinked as he watched Selene pick her pack back up.

Selene lay prone on a bed, her face white aside from the ugly, blackened webbing that rose from her neck to her face. Blue-purple veins inched over her cheeks in advance of the black. The woman contorted, convulsing as whatever disease had a grip of her continued its assault.

Edwin blinked again, his heart hammering as he looked at Selene’s back. The wizard, sensing Edwin staring at her, turned and sent him a worried frown,

“Everything alright Edwin?” she asked, noting how pale he suddenly was. Edwin quickly shook his head to clear it and smiled,

“Yes, I’m quite alright Selene.” he replied easily, squashing down the momentary fear he’d just felt. He smiled at the dubious look she gave him, “It’s probably just all the stress catching up with me. I promise I’ll rest as soon as I’ve seen you off.”  he assured her. He caught Ragnarsson’s raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye, but the High Priest said nothing, instead turning his attention to Selene,

“The Teleport should send ye directly to your own office, provided the circle’s been laid out properly. That ought to save ye getting grief from the folk running your own  Teleportation room.” he informed her. Selene beamed at the dwarven cleric,

“Thank you Father Ragnarsson, that helps immensely.” she said, taking just one step forward before pausing and looking back at Edwin again. She smiled,

“When I have time, I’ll try to remember to Scry you once I’ve spoken to General Strucker and Lord Schreiber about what happened. Given everything that’s been going on lately, I think it’ll be a good idea to actually stay in touch.” 

Edwin tried to force down the blush he could feel creeping up his face at the smile, grateful that Selene didn’t seem to have noticed,

“It would.” he confirmed, “I look forward to hearing from you. If I haven’t heard anything in about a week, I’ll probably try to Scry you myself to ask.” he suggested. Selene’s smile widened and she nodded before turning on her heel and walking the rest of the way into the Teleportation Room. Edwin watched as Selene nodded to the runesmith on duty and turned back to wave at him. A blinding light lit up the tiny room, forcing Edwin to close his eyes. When he opened them again, the room was dark and empty. He felt his heart drop in disappointment, but he sucked in a breath and turned to Ragnarsson,

“I suppose I’d better get back to my church. I have far too much paperwork that’s been left by the wayside these last couple of days.” he said brusquely. Ragnarsson huffed a sigh and shrugged,

“I was about to offer ye a coupla pints, but if ye’ve not got the time…” he said, trailing off with a small smirk. Edwin, despite knowing how much of a trap this likely was, spun back around with a wide smile,

“Well, if you’re paying, I might as well.” he said cheerily. He glanced over to the Archlector, who chortled,

“Sadly, I need to retire to my apartment. I’ve not got quite so much energy as I used to, and the last day or so has taken a bit of a toll, I’m afraid.” The old dwarf smiled and waved as Ragnarsson grabbed Edwin’s arm,

“Rightio, then. Come on Abouna, I hear auld Broadfir’s got a new stout he’s been looking for feedback on.” he chirped, dragging Edwin bodily through the Cathedral, despite all the human’s protests that he could walk just fine. Vanskleig shook his head, smiled, and whistled as he tottered off in the opposite direction. For now, at least, things were exctly the way they should be, and that was no bad thing at all.

#aquadestinyswriting #the wizard's tale #a circle none can break #selene frigidwake #edwin goodwin #snorri ovaksson #gruk ovaksson #jotunn ragnarsson #kargun vanskleig

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Kinktober Day 26: Overstimulation- Ivar Ragnarsson

Summary: Ivar shows his new wife just how much pleasure a cripple can give her

Word count: 2, 002

Many people would think that being wed to a prince would be a blessing, especially if he was a brave warrior as well, but those people did not have to marry Prince Ivar. Your mother had assured you that he couldn’t be too bad, but you had heard differently. The many awful stories from many people ran through your mind when you had to walk up that aisle.

Now you sat beside him at the celebration of your arranged marriage and he had still not spoken a word to you. He’d barely even glanced at you since you’d wed five hours earlier, even the kiss he had to give you was barely a peck. Although it was disappointing to have such an inattentive husband, from what you heard it was better than the wrath he could inflict on you.

Despite Ivar’s actions you still managed to have a good evening thus far, his three elder brothers being a lot more charismatic and funny than your new husband. Your previous anxieties were beginning to dull as Hvitserk and Ubbe continued to make you laugh with tales of their childhood and adventures.

While the alcohol seemed to make you feel more excited and Hvitserk and Ubbe to be more funny, it seemed to have the opposite affect on the youngest of the three, Sigurd. The more he drank the more passing comments and glares at Ivar he seemed to dish out. The other two brothers did a good job of distracting you to not notice, but the elder brothers, and unfortunately Ivar, definitely did notice.

So far others had managed to distract Ivar enough that he didn’t react as violently as Sigurd had hoped, that was until a certain comment seemed to cut just a little too deep.

“You know, Y/N, if you ever notice that Ivar is lacking as a husband, I’m more than happy to keep your bed warm in the evening. I mean hahaha I am sorry to say but he is a cripple with a cock that doesn’t work!” He loudly laughed, unknowingly embarrassing himself as he was the only one laughing.

The room stood still, most people in the large hall having heard the suggestive comment.

At hearing such a crass comment you couldn’t help but choke on your wine. It was the forwardness of such a suggestion that caused you to cough out your wine, but unfortunately Ivar thought you were laughing.

“This is my wedding, Sigurd! Y/N is my wife!” His intimidating voice boomed at his brother, startling you slightly.

“Ivar, careful.” Ubbe gently warned as all eyes landed on your table.

With dangerous eyes, Ivar snarled at both you and Sigurd before angrily hobbling away on his crutch.

Even though Ivar was apparently a brute and hot-headed, he was still your husband and you believed his reaction was warranted.

“Wait! Ivar!” You found yourself calling after him as you ran to catch up with the surprisingly fast Viking.

Ivar made you follow him all the way to your shared bedroom, his steps fast and full of understandable rage. If you hadn’t been quick enough to catch the door with your palm, it would have slammed right in your face.

Stepping into the spacious room you make tentative steps towards your rage-filled husband.

“Ivar?…” you quietly call to him.

His head quickly whips around to you, a rage-filled look etched onto his face. Before you could even attempt to calm him, he had you pinned to the door, his strong forearm digging into your chest.

“You are my wife and you laugh with my brother about me.” He angrily growled at you.

“Ivar- I-I…” You began, before his strong hand around your throat stopped you in your tracks.

Seeing your startled reaction to his anger seemed to switch something in Ivar. Though he was infamous for his rage and his bloodthirsty reputation on the battle field, you were his wife and though many saw him as a brute, he didn’t want you to despise him. Ivar had worried what you’d think of him or that he’d ruin his chance at this relationship working out, that’s why he’d been so distant.

His breathing seemed to calm, his breaths coming out in slow huffs through his nose. Though his grip on you loosened and his breathing slowed, he still had a dangerous look in his eye.

His eyes never leave yours as his hand around your throat descends. The light touches across your chest and abdomen surprise you, there was fire in his eyes but grace in his touch. As his hand makes its way to your hip, he grasps it tightly in a strong hold. Though his hold was strong, it was not violent, it was filled more with passion then pure anger.

“What my brother says about me is true, my cock does not work. Though I can not bare you a child, I can however still bring you pleasure and consummate this marriage.” He confidently declares to you.

His gaze was so intense and his voice so powerful, you had not noticed that both of his hands had moved to the neckline of your dress. It wasn’t until you heard a loud ripping sound and you were pulled slightly away from the door that you noticed where his hands had moved to. Your eyes widened and your body shuddered, but whether it was from the strength your new husband had just shown or from the sudden warmth of the fire on your exposed skin, you couldn’t be sure.

Taking his eyes away from yours, they traveled down to your now exposed breasts. His strong calloused hands began holding and squeezing them, looking upon you with marvel.

“You are a beautiful woman, and you deserve someone who can provide you with the pleasure you deserve. Let me show you how much pleasure I can provide.” He tells you, his eyes once again landing back on yours, his gaze softer now.

One of his hands leaves your breast, making its way to cup your cheek lovingly. You lean into his soft touch as he brings his face closer to yours. His lips press against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and passionate. Your tongues do not meet, but he seems to have no problem showing his passion and causing your core to flutter in excitement.

“Take off your dress and lay on the bed for me, my beautiful wife. I will show you just how much pleasure a cripple can give you.” He tells you, his forehead resting against yours as dominance returns to his voice.

Intrigue filled your body and mind as you quickly pushed off the door, the eager way you rush to remove your clothes causing your new husband to chuckle. His eyes never leave your body as new skin is exposed to him.

Finally laying on the soft furs of the large bed, you find your breathing getting heavier just from watching Ivar make his way over to you. Though he walks with support from a crutch, there is still dominance and power in every step.

Finding his place on the edge of the bed, his fingers lightly trace from your ankle to your inner thigh, goosebumps following the path of his light touch. His passion filled eyes meet yours again as his fingers inch closer to your core. Your legs instinctively bend and spread at his touch.

Taking his other hand, his strength surprises you once again as it wraps around your thigh and drags you closer to his seated spot. Your surprised yelp quickly becomes a moan as his fingers make contact with your warm wet core. He has barely touched you and already your body is alight. Dragging his fingers up and down the length of your pussy, his eyes marvel at the way your body responds.

“You’re so beautiful and you’re all mine.” He speaks softly, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

“All yours, Ivar.” Your soft voice speaks up, causing his head to shoot up, like you’re a dream he’s just realised is real.

His eyes become slightly dangerous again as his strong fingers begin to push into and circle your sensitive bundle of nerves. The way your head pushes back into the soft bed and the sweet moan that escapes your lips, drives Ivar wild. He craves to hear more of your sounds as he positions his body to be between yours legs.

Leaning down he begins to bite and kiss your already quaking thighs, desperately trying to pull more of those sounds from your gorgeous lips.

The feel of his fingers on your clit mixed with the hot kisses he leaves all over your sensitive skin is quickly pushing you to your release. You can feel your core tightening, desperate to come undone.

“Oooh-Ooohh! Ivar, I’m gonna cum!” You call out, your nails digging into his strong forearm.

“Mhmmm. Do it, my love. Scream my name and let everyone hear who makes you feel so good.” He demands, the force and speed on your clit growing more intense.

“Oh fuck! Ivaaarrr!” You scream out in pleasure as your head shoots back in pleasure and your nails dig into his skin harder.

As you lay there catching your breath, you barely register your husband manoeuvring your body to lay against his against the headboard, until you feel his fingers on your sensitive clit.

“Ooohh Ivar! It’s too much!” You pathetically cry out.

His strong arm wraps itself around your centre, holding your squirming body still. You attempt to escape the intense pleasure by closing your legs, causing Ivar to growl and bite at your neck.

“Do not deny me your sweet sounds, my darling wife. I wish to draw as much pleasure out of you tonight as your body is able to take. Be good and keep your gorgeous legs open for me.” He growls lowly in your ear.

Though the overstimulation begins to hurt slightly, you can not deny such a command.

Your next orgasm approaches embarrassingly quickly as you loudly shout Ivars names once again, your head slamming back onto his chest. Ivar chuckles delightedly at your state of overstimulated pleasure.

Once again giving you no time to come down from your orgasm, Ivar deftly thrusts two fingers into your wet pulsing pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You shout out in surprise at the intrusion.

Wasting no time, his fingers begin to curl and thrust into you as his arm holding your middle moves slightly to rub your clit. The combined pleasure of Ivars skilful fingers hitting the sweet spot inside you and rubbing deliciously on your clit is too much for your body to handle, and once again your body thrashes and scream out in overstimulated ecstasy.

“No more, Ivar, no more.” You weakly beg him, your mind feeling fuzzy and your body heavy at the way he’s now made you cum three times.

“Just one more for me, my gorgeous princess. I know you can give me one more.” He almost begs you, sweetly kissing the side of your face as his hand strokes along your inner thigh.

“Just one more.” You weakly nod to him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He excitedly chants as he kisses your cheeks and his fingers return to your clit.

The light chuckle that his sweet kisses cause are quickly cut off by a loud moan of pleasure. This being the fourth time of the night you will cum, your body takes barely twenty seconds before it is thrown into a feeling of blinding ecstasy once more.

The pleasured scream that leaves your body is animalistic as your body goes completely limp against Ivar. Breathing heavily, your eyes begin to close as you feel sleep taking over you.

“You did so well, my love.” He gently coos as he positions you under the soft furs.

His strong arms wrap around you and you feel a sweet kiss on your forehead before you fall into a blissful sleep.

#Ivar #Ivar imagine #Ivar x reader #Ivar the boneless #Ivar the boneless x reader #Ivar the boneless imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar Ragnarsson x reader #Ivar Ragnarsson imagine #Vikings #Vikings imagine

[prissybabyhamlet]

oh hell yea lets hear the thoughts on the Most Swede of all time, willem ragnarsson (although, he isnt swedish, is he? hes icelandic and danish, ethnically. and his name is dutch. fake nordic smh)

I Just Think He’s Neat!!

okay fr is willem a perfect angel saint? no. if you are having sex with someone you can tell if they’re not enjoying it. he ignores hard truths in favour of pretending everything is fine and i get it!! i get how much easier it is to pretend everything is okay, and i love the way the book shows that he is well aware of this flaw in himself, and he keeps trying to justify it to himself. it’s so much easier to tell yourself that you’re letting someone have their dignity when you should be following them into the bathroom stall - i know! i’ve been there!! in that first part of the happy years he is lying to himself because it’s too hard to face the truth and because of that he is harming jude, even though i think they both want the pretending to work

and i think the thing that makes me love willem so much is that when he cannot pretend anymore, when he knows the full extent of the truth, he faces it. he stays. not be be Like That abt it but it’s so ‘i fear to stain your clothes with blood’ ‘stain them. i don’t care’. the staying is what makes me heart eyes him. he overcomes that urge to not see, to literally put a hand over jude’s mouth to stop the story, and his love for jude is so strong that he is able to bear witness to what happened even though at the end of the day he is under no obligation to. he could leave! but he doesn’t.

also! i find the dichotomy between the fairy tale and realistic aspects of his character so interesting. the book is so deliberately a (dark? anti-?) fairy tale and in that lens willem is a prince charming. he is physically perfect, he is completely moral, he is unquestionably loyal and full of love and he saves the damsel princess (smth smth the gender in this book is whack esp wrt to fairy tale gender archetypes). but! he also. very much doesn’t save the damsel. one of the books central tenets is that jude can’t be saved. willem is not a prince charming! he’s not perfect, he messes up, the two big fights him and jude have - where he cuts his chest and wrestles the razor off jude - are fuck ups, even if it is understandable! harold is significantly more of a ‘perfect’ character/foil to jude (unreal to respond to a grown ass man throwing food at the wall with anything other than ‘what the fuck is your problem i’m not dealing with this’)

in saying that. i do think that, although the idea is that this is a story abt someone who never gets better, willem does make jude better. not fixed or saved or w/e but if willem lived jude would be able to live too

#….meta? in this the year of our lord 2024? #a little life

[biggerbetterbat]

THE SECOND SON | memory of him

Ubbe Ragnarsson x oc!Valdis

summary: Valdis’s childhood had the color of the prettiest shade of blue. And now she was about to see them again.

words: 874

A/N: hello and welcome in my new story! New chapters coming once I decide where I want to go with this story, sorry for delays, I hope you will like it :)

She watched with wide eyes as her father's warriors gathered at the gates, their weapons glinting in the fading light. Then, amidst the throng of armored men, he appeared.

Ragnar Lothbrok strode into the courtyard, his presence commanding and powerful. His piercing blue eyes seemed to pierce through the very soul of anyone who dared meet his gaze. Valdis felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the sight of him.

She had heard tales of Ragnar—the fearless explorer who dared to sail beyond the known seas, the cunning strategist who outwitted his enemies with ease. But none of the stories had prepared her for the reality of his presence. As Ragnar approached her father, Astrid found herself drawn to him, unable to tear her gaze away. She marveled at the way he carried himself, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance yet held an undeniable allure.

But it was his eyes that captured her the most. Blue as the endless expanse of the sea, they seemed to hold a thousand secrets, each more tantalizing than the last. In them, Valdis saw a glimpse of worlds she had never known, adventures she could only dream of. He noticed the curious gaze of a young girl fixed upon him, and he noticed her.

Kneeling down beside her, Ragnar's towering figure became more approachable, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth as he spoke softly to the wide-eyed child. "Hello there, little one," he said, his voice a soothing rumble that seemed to calm the fluttering of her heart. "What is your name?"

"I'm Valdis, my lord."

"Valdis, what a beautiful name," he remarked. "You have the spirit of a true Viking maiden within you, I can see it in your eyes."

For in that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of greatness—a man whose courage and determination would inspire her for years to come.

"Would you like to marry a prince?" he asked, knowing very well that the deal between theirs families was already done. "I have a son. He's around your age as you. Would you like to marry my son?"

"Is he as handsome as you, my Lord?" she asked with big, curious eyes.

Ragnar's hearty laughter echoed through the hall, filling the air with warmth. He regarded the young Valdis with amusement twinkling in his blue eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ah, little one," he replied with a playful grin, "you'll have to judge that for yourself when you meet him.

"So when will I meet him?"

She tugged at the hem of his tunic, her voice filled with curiosity. Ragnar chuckled softly as he looked at little Valdis, her bright eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

"Not yet, little one," he replied with a warm smile. "You'll meet Ubbe when you're both older, once you've grown into the brave and beautiful woman I know you'll become."

Valdis’s face fell at Ragnar's words, her bottom lip trembling with disappointment.

"Look at me," he said softly tilting her head up but her chin. Once again she looked into those beautiful eyes, sparkling with mischief, "You're ready, my dear Valdis, but Ubbe? He is not quite as handsome as he will be when he's grown. But give him time, and he'll catch up."

"Really?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Ragnar nodded with a smile,"In time, Ubbe will grow into a strong and handsome man, just like his father."

Valdis’ face brightened at Ragnar's words, her heart filled with hope and excitement for the future. "Then it's my dream to meet him," she exclaimed eagerly, her enthusiasm renewed.

"Never stop listening to your heart," he said. "Even the greatest journeys begin with a single step, but you must believe in yourself," he said.

The next morning, after evening filled with stories and songs, Ragnar stood on the deck of his ship, preparing to set sail once more. Valdis clung tightly to her father's hand, her heart heavy with the weight of their parting. It was hard to part ways with such a man, his presence was addictive - even for a little girl.

"May the gods watch over you on your journey," said Earl Erlik.

Ragnar clasped Valdis’ father's forearm in a firm handshake, his gaze filled with gratitude and respect. "And may they watch over you and your family as well," he replied solemnly.

Ragnar knelt down before Valdis, his weathered hand resting gently on her shoulder. "Goodbye, Valdis," he said warmly, his voice filled with affection. "Don't forget about my son."

"I'll think about him and pray to gods for him every day."

With a gentle smile, Ragnar pressed a kiss to Valdis’ forehead, his touch a balm to her soul in the midst of their parting. "May the gods watch over you, little one," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "And may our paths cross again one day."

As Valdis stood on the shoreline, her small frame silhouetted against the backdrop of the vast ocean, she watched with a heavy heart as Ragnar's ship slowly disappeared into the horizon. "Please," she murmured, her words carried away by the gentle sea breeze, "let us meet again."

#ubbe fanfiction #ubbe lothbrok #vikings ubbe #ubbe imagine #ubbe x reader #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

To be in the favor of Gods...

AN: I got back into Vikings. AAAABSOLUTELY obsessed w the Ragnarssons ofc... who isn't?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT: PLEASE SCROLL AWAY? THIS IS NOT FOR YOUR EYES.

Part 2 here.

You were the little sister of Harald and Halfdan. As a gift of gods you were a seer, a witch, having powers to foresee the future, to grant your bothers favors in battles, you knew when to fight and when to hold back. Just for this power alone they refused to let your father marry you off. No political alliance worth that much. Noone was allowed to touch you, to claim you. That might seem pretty lonely but as you had seen it it was a blessing. You had seen firsthand from your brothers that norse men were insaitable, fucking anything that moved. Sure as hell you werent gonna be just another, you'd rather be alone. As selfish as that may be, you refused to share like that. Well in thoughts anyways. Being alone and respected was way better. You were also a trained shieldmaiden, having to protect yourself on multiple occasions. Not every man was okay with the fact that they cannot have you, being the daugther of an earl, being the prettiest creature they had ever set eyes upon. As if a goddess was walking amongst them. As for your brothers, they made you follow them everywhere, this was how you arrived in Kattegat. It was for business they said, making you smirk. You know far too well what had they planned, you have already seen glimpses of the outcome. They still thought they could lie to you.

-Brother.. what is the point of lying to me? You know i already know the outcome if you follow my advices.. Halfdan, crouch.. - just as you said and he crouched, a knife flew straight where his head had been a second ago, making you giggle as you made your way to the great hall.

In the great hall, you saw Ragnar as he smirked, looking you up and down, you also saw Queen Aslaug's hateful looks, as you appeared between your brothers. She knew you'd catch the eyes of her sons as well as her husband's. She knew all too well of your value for she had heard tales about you. Your family tried to keep it a secret, but some still new. By the looks of it Ragnar wasn't one of those. That made you smirk.

Ragnar stood up greeting your brothers as if they were friends while one of his sons started circling you.

-They brought a gift father. - he said touching your hair. When a hearthy laugh escaped Halfdan's mouth. Halfdan put an arm around your shoulder kissing your temple softly.

-MY sister's no gift Hvitserk, she's merely here to see the famous Kattegat. But i would kindly infrom you not to touch her further if you'd like to keep your arms. - he winked at Hvitserk. Making you roll your eyes, as you took the mead from Harald's hand as you went to sit down amongst your men. Harald hot on your tail.

Ubbe stood close to his mother, watching you from afar as you were dancing with your brothers. Aslaug sighed.

-Please tell me you are not fancying her too Ubbe...

He just looked at her before setting his eyes back on you.

As you stopped dancing your eyes found his,smiling seductively before leaving for the door. Aslaug tried to stop her son, as your brothers smirked when they saw him following you. They knew he was in for a not so good time with you out there.

You were walking in the shallow water with your dress in your hand.

-Where is your husband? - he asked as he walked closer.

-I don't have one.

-Hmm.. - he said as he grabbed two swords from a nearby rack. You were with your back towards him when he tossed it, yet, you caught it without looking. Taking stance.

-Why did you followed me Ragnarsson? - you asked with indifference.

-A lady as pretty as you should be wondering out here alone. - he said as he launched at you. You dodged as if you knew what was he gonna do.. which you did. Images of this play fight plagued your head ever since you first set eyes on him. For some reason it held enough importance for the gods to show you, to make you play it out for something bigger in the future.

-Im perfectly capable of taking care of myself. - yousaid as you knocked him to the ground the blade of your sword at his neck as his blue eyes shone up at you.

He smirked, and for a moment you lost yourself in the blues of his eyes. Granting him enough time to knock you off your feet, and hover above you. He brushed stray hairs from your forehead as your noses nearly touched. His touches made your eyes roll back, now he could only see the whites of yours as images from the future flooded your mind at his touch. He winced back surprised. When his breaths calmed, you acted quickly, holding a small knife to the side of his face. Before standing up, and leaving without a word.

The things you saw disturbed you. Fights, injuries, pain, success... maybe even too great of a success, and you by his side of the throne. Tangled bodies, not just one, but three. You could see yourself in all of them. You stumbled into the great hall with dirt all over you from the fight, you were anxious, your brothers at your side immediately, tossing the slaves off of their laps.

-We need to leave. - you breathed, fidgeting as Ubbe entered the great hall.

-What did he do dear sister? - asked Harald, hand already on his sword.

-Nothing, but we need to leave. - you said as you started to leave.

-STOP. - you heard Aslaug. She stood from her throne next to Ragnar. Noone quite understanding anything, painful silence settling over the hall.

-What did you see? - she asked.

-What do you mean what did she see woman? - Ragnar asked with a laugh.

-What do you think Ragnar? She's got the look of a goddess, she's been not wed, they carrying her around on a gold plate, and noone is to touch her in any form?

-So what? If she'd be my sister i would be keeping her for myself too. - he winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

-She's a fucking seer Ragnar. And she saw the future of your son. I need to know what she saw. NOW.

-You don't need to know anything my Queen, for i did not see his future. - you said, trying to remain calm. But she saw right through you.

The guards took hold of your brothers, as she held a knife to your throat before leading you away...

#vikings #ubbe #aslaug #hvitserk #ragnar #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #ubbe x you #hvitserk x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ragnar x reader

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Valhalla

Inspired by this gif from @destinyisall-tlk

If Sigtryggr and Ragnar met in Valhalla...

Valhalla was just like the stories. The rafters made with spears, and the roof with shields. Mail and furs lined the benches. Food was piled up on the tables, tables that also seemed to be made from shields. The pillars were intricately carved with tales of all kinds. Tales of the gods, and of men. Some were carved with the faces of the gods themselves. Men and women began pouring in from the doors, sitting at the tables while the Valkyries poured the ale. 

It was a strange feeling, to be dead, and yet feel alive. 

Sigtryggr stepped into the enormous hall. He watched as Danes and Norsemen and others sat at the table, all of them talking and laughing. 

For a moment, he stood at the door and looked around, searching for someone he recognised. He saw Cnut. And there was someone else.

Someone who looked up and saw him. And smiled, beckoning. 

It was like he had no control over his feet, but he found himself walking towards that man and sitting next to him. He picked up his cup of ale.

“To the gods!” the man toasted. Sigtryggr raised his cup and drank. The ale had to be the sweetest he’d ever tasted. It warmed him up from the inside.

“I’m Ragnar Ragnarsson,” the man introduced. “I believe you know Cnut.”

“Welcome to Valhalla, cousin,” said Cnut. 

Sigtryggr ignored him, just as Cnut had ignored his pleas for help. “You are Uhtred’s brother?”

“I am.”

“I am Sigtryggr.”

Ragnar raised his cup again. “Welcome to Valhalla, Sigtryggr.”

Sigtryggr tore off a piece of the meat in front of him and sniffed it. Then he tasted it. It was like someone set a fire inside his mouth. The taste was exquisite. Was everything in Valhalla this good?

“Tell me, Sigtryggr,” Ragnar said, “how is my brother?”

He swallowed. “Last I saw him, he stabbed me in the heart.”

Ragnar’s brow knotted in confusion. “That’s strange. I have been told that you married his daughter. Why he kill his son-in-law?”

“It wasn’t his choice,” Sigtryggr explained.

“Saxons doing shit in the name of their god?” Ragnar guessed.

“Yes. King Edward offered me terms. I refused. I would not convert.”

Ragnar nodded. “I can understand that. You are not like Guthrum. Look around you,” he gestured around. “Have you seen him here?”

Sigtryggr said nothing, but bit into another piece of the meat. 

“Do you ever feel like you left much behind?” he asked

“All the time,” Ragnar said. “I left behind my woman, my children, my brother. You left behind a wife.”

“I promised I would wait for her.”

“Good. I’m sure she will.”

Ragnar stood then. “In the meantime, someone has to show you around. It might as well be me.”

Sigtryggr stood, surprised at how much taller than him the son of Ragnar the Fearless was. 

“You are my family, Sigtryggr. Don’t forget that.”

Sigtryggr smiled, shaking the hand offered to him. Ragnar pulled him into a hug.

He picked up his full cup of ale and yelled, “To Sigtryggr!”

The toast was echoed by nearly all of the warriors who had heard him. 

Perhaps the wait for her would not be as unbearable as he thought it would.

#the last kingdom #tlk fics #sigtryggr #eysteinn sigurðarson #ragnar ragnarsson #tobias santelmann

[mass-effect-galaxy]

Assassin’s Creed Valhalla Cinematic 5: The Tale of Thegn Oswald

While the Raven Clan celebrates their recent successes, Dane raiders attack Raventhorpe. They came from East Anglia, a land that is supposed to be pacified by Halfdan Ragnarsson's steward Finnr. To prevent further attacks, Eivor travels to East Anglia only to find its throne abandoned.

The only hope for peace between Danes and Saxons now lies with the young noble Oswald of Elmenham.

#ac valhalla #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor varinsdottir #eivor varinsdóttir #Youtube

[melodicwitchlight]

arcaneprophesied ☀️ ivar the boneless :

During the entire 'transaction', Ivar watched the expressions on Athena’s face. The fear and distrust pulled a smile from the crippled king, who was known for his bouts of cruelty and unchecked anger. He wonders which stories have made their way to the Vestmenn - the Irish - which tales of battle have they heard? Or perhaps some version of Sigurd's death floats in their mind now.

When the deal is struck and the woman leaves, Ivar looks to Athena with a smirk. Boneless doesn't know the Celtic language spoken by the Vestmenn, though he knows English and his morsmål- given that the deal had been finalized in English, he wonders if Athena knows any Norsk. "Sitte," comes Ivar's command, gesturing to a seat nearby. "Snakker du Norsk?" He asks and before even gaining a response, he continues. "Mitt navn er Ivar den Beinløse og Jeg er din nye konge."

“If you do not speak our tongue, you will learn,” he warns.

she is in the village, finding herself by the seashore where she had seen the waves in. where am i? she thinks. as water is trickling through her face, as she touches her skin.

as she wanders, her feet digging into the grains of sand ( as she had no shoes or slippers ), she sees the houses, thatched straw roofs ( wheat for chocolate biscuits ). she nodded in thought, closing her eyes briefly and sighing in tiredness ; an inclination of nervous tick.

she then sees a boy, pensive and looking through a book. he had found her bible, fluttering away to wind, and he grasped the delicate crumbling object, so as to not lose it to thor. he was looking for answers, amidst his drug haze. he said his name was hvitserk during their conversation, she noting he looked ill or suffering tremendously, and saying ‘ please take care of your health ‘ ; a sirach passage.

as athena entered the house, a man is talking to a person called baldur who said he was a norse god and they had discussed business of trade. baldur had on a black suit with white buttoned blouse. he himself, of course was one. as encouraged by freydis, when he had thought he was a crippled monster. she sits next to him on her own throne, blond braided hair and wearing a dress.

after business concluded with baldur, ivar looked at the next person in line. she says, ‘ hi, earl ragnarsson,‘ to him and bowing in respect. she is holding her bible ; hearing him say he worshiped norse religion to baldur. she remembered deutoronomy had abhorred norse, there being a passage where thiago demolished karou and akiva’s pagan shrine.

she starts to say a starting passage from it, ‘ when you cross the jordan to search and occupy mount gerizim and e’bal, you shall bless it….’ as she is used to reading the bible, and it weaving in conversations with others.

ivar had gestured for her to continue, she beginning to say something about adventure, as he liked stories, his mother aslaug spoke stories to sing he and his brothers to sleep. intrigue in his blue eyes, as he leaned on forward in chair. she was an newcomer to kattegat, he thought, as he hadn’t seen her before. she was likely a foreigner from the far isles, as there was a fishing dock nearby.

yet she realised during, ‘ you must demolish completely all the places, search out and destroy that do not serve our god…’ he looked quite scary and remembering she was in pagan land, and paused. she is quiet and blinked nervously. in the monastery, father cuthbert had been quite mean when he was performing her monk duties, when she was a male. he did not even listen to her, she working to the bone, and he saying, ‘ sit down or shut up. ‘ ivar’s expression slowly changes to one of suspicion, during this time, wondering who or what she was saying and planning of demolishing, and he glares.

her eyes widen at hearing him say he owned her, at her silence, ‘ perhaps you are to be a thrall since you have lost your tongue, ‘ and she is startled. she didn’t want to continue on the passage, as he might kill her!

he is angry she wasn’t responding after a long time ( perhaps she is an enemy ), as she looked like she was judging him. he recalled killing when he was a child with his little axe, the other children teasing him. and his mother aslaug had soothed him, saying it’s all okay. he had many angry rages, yet thinking he may endure being boneless, despite the mocking words around him that he was not a man. he had endured much. he slides down from the chair ; the coils of a snake 🐍 slithering to the ground and held his crutches next to him to calmly walk to her. ‘ you must surrender to me!!’

she thinks he is about to strike her, slithering in for the kill, and shrieks, backing away.

‘ brother! ‘ hvitserk rushes to where ivar was, and says, ‘ let’s try to understand her strange runes. ‘ ivar stares at his brother, and says, ‘ alright, alright, ‘ he calms down, anger shadowing in his chest.

‘ this is my house. you must remember. so sit, ‘ he gestures to a seat across from him, gesturing at her hesitancy, and she sits down. he himself makes his way back to his throne, walking on his cane. ‘ do you speak norse? my name is ivar the boneless and I do not speak your tongue. I understand a little of what you say, from our travels to england. ‘ and there was sinric, the translator whom was not with them right now. ‘ yet why do you stop in your story, hmm? ‘ they could have found some way to continue communicating in the heart of all the noise and confusion. ‘ now, what were you saying of destroying? ‘

hvitserk gave her some bread, as she is shaking, she thanking him. it was a french delicacy that they brought from france 🇫🇷 during their raid there ; brioche bread. as she chews, she thinks on what to say. she looks at where she left the story off in her bible. the fragrant incense of beauty calmed her a little, she looking briefly around her, and seeing ivar was seated next to her, with no more indication of real insidious intention nor that her speaking in the bible didn’t make god strike her when she stood. ‘ I wasn’t thinking of destroying anything. it is a passage from my bible, ‘ as she holds her bible tightly, yet in unison of the pages in beautiful calming thought.

#rp partner | arcaneprophesied #writing. #athena ic. #foretoldchaos

[ceridwenofwales]

I have to express my gratitude to @pokeasleepingsmaug, who gave me the idea and motivation to get back writing Blaeja and Sigurd after the disappointment of season 4b. I’m your fangirl, Morgan!!! Thanks a million for the support.

These past days we had a lot of birthday girls to whom I wish to dedicate this work as well: @skadithegoddess, @princess-sweatpants and @mizzvengenz6661. I love you all.

Tagging: @kirah34,@wanderingsorceress27, @ivarinleatherpants, @daizydoe and @laure-demontety.

Warning: Violence

Note:  I’m mixing saga and show material, but I still picture Ivar as the eldest. Here he is already King of Dublin with adult children.

—————

They won but victory wouldn’t bring his father back. Victory wouldn’t give his aching heart the relief of Ragnar’s warm embrace, the only warmth was the one provided by the spilled blood on that rich and green soil, the blood that was sprinkled on his face.

Bjorn was ripping Aelle’s tunic off of his sweaty back, leaving his skin exposed for what they were planning to do. They would inflict on him the most grueling and brutal torture they knew, one that would match how humiliated they felt after hearing of the manner of Ragnar’s death.

When Bjorn started cutting the King’s skin, Sigurd thought he heard a sob. He shook his head and kept looking at Aelle’s struggling to break free from his restraints. Sigurd’s lips were pressed tightly together and he was breathing heavily out of satisfaction that the man that broke his mother’s heart was suffering.

A strangled whimper and this time he was sure they were not alone in that forest. His eyes started wandering until he saw her. At first, Sigurd thought it was a magical being of the forest because, even at distance, her beauty couldn’t be from their world. The moonlight was covering her skin and making her glow. But when their eyes met and she gasped, Sigurd pondered that none Goddess would be afraid of him. His hand descended to the pommel of the sword hanging from his belt and he started walking to her.

#sigurd x blaeja #sigurd fanfic #sigurd imagine #blaeja #sigurd #sigurd snake-in-the-eye #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd ragnarsson #vikings fanfic #norse sagas #the tale of ragnar's sons #the tale of ragnarssons #viking age #9th century #the great heathen army #vikings #vikings in britain

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Nine

Summary: Firetome has a discussion with Darkhide about the Fireball that went off at the end of the Council session. In the meantime, Ragnarsson pays the Archlector a visit to have a chat about a certain member of the clergy and the Hellmouth situation.

Words: 2,018

Warnings: None

Notes: Finally figured out how I wanted to go forward with this. No mention of Selene in here, but I don't think anyone will mind getting some insight into the other goings on within Fangthane.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrsupport, @writeblrcafe

Firetome couldn't quite hide his snarl as he strode into his office and slammed the door shut. Whoever had tried to use a Fireball to try and kill or maim the Grand Magus was clearly an incompetent fool of the highest order. The flame haired dwarf threw himself into his seat with an annoyed growl, pulling out the scrying mirror from his desk and waving a hand over it.

"What do you want Firetome?" Darkhide sighed irritably. His hood was down, and Firetome could hear the inquisitive squeaks and yaps of about a dozen kobolds. The dwarf glared at the human man,

"Whatever agents ye've sent up here to spy on the Grand Magus are incompetent buffoons." He growled, "What idiot tries to kill a bloody wizard with a wee, totty Fireball? And in front o' three quarters o' the bloody mountain to boot?" Darkhide's brow furrowed in confusion, even as his eyes narrowed and blazed with indignation,

"All of the spies I have working for me are here giving me their reports." He said, voice calm, "Besides, none of them are capable enough with magic to manage more than a few sparks, never mind a fireball, no matter how small." Firetome snorted and leaned back in his seat,

"Maybe some o' yer Cabal friends got impatient then?" He suggested. Darkhide rolled his eyes and snorted derisively,

"Oh, please." He sighed, "Any member of the Cabal sent in to kill their 'Little Librarian' would have cast a Fireball big enough to kill everyone still in that room when it went off." He pointed out, "The Cabal are hardly in the business of hiring third rate wizards or sorcerers." The human shook his head,

"Given your description of how small the fireball was – and the fact that it was cast in full view of pretty much the entire population of your city – I would surmise that it's merely a disgruntled citizen who took advantage of their only opportunity." Firetome grumbled, 

"Fair point." He muttered, "In which case I'll see how this plays oot. Maybe we can turn it to our advantage." Darkhide huffed out an impatient sigh,

"You do that." He grumbled, shutting off the connection and leaving Firetome to stare at his own reflection. The dwarf snapped the casing of the mirror closed, placed it back into the drawer and slammed it closed. He ran a hand down his beard. Were the caster of the Fireball truly a dwarf, then the action constituted an act of war against Toreguarde, and the Inquisitor knew he couldn't afford to have that happen. Not yet anyway. 

Then again, the Grand Magus was not here on official business, and she most certainly was not the sort of person to report such an incident back to Toreguarde. Not if she wanted to improve relations between Toreguarde and Fangthane. Firetome relaxed into his seat, tapping his steepled fingers on his lips as he thought. If what the Grand Magus had said was true, and that the God Clay was her last option for sealing up the Hell Mouth, then she would not only need the artefact in question, but a Shaper as well. 

A slow smile spread across the High Inquisitor's face. It didn't matter what the woman did, there was no way to permanently seal it. Even if Drakemar gave her the artefact if asked, without a Shaper it was utterly useless to her, and there would never be any ever again. He chuckled, pulling out an iron-wrought draconic eye with wings on either side of it out from under his vestments and rubbing his thumb over it,

"All we need to do is wait, my Lord, then you and your siblings can finally reclaim the world that is rightfully yours."

~*~

High Priest Ragnarsson whooshed out a sigh and dusted down his vestments before knocking on the elaborately carved door in front of him. He was grateful beyond words that whoever had cast the Fireball directly after the council session had been concluded was a less than powerful caster. Had they been any more capable, then Fangthane would have lost the entirety of its council, the Archlector and their king in one fell swoop. Due to this, the whole mountain had been swiftly locked down, with all entry and exit points shut tight so the perpetrator couldn't escape.

The greying dwarf quickly shook his head to clear it of such maudlin thoughts. There were other, far more important matters to discuss. The door swung open to reveal a young woman dressed in the dark green and gold robes of the Archlector's personal attendants. The beardling smiled as she stood to one side to allow the High Priest of Moradin inside,

"Please take a seat, Father Ragnarsson, His Holiness will be with you shortly." She said, bowing low as the older dwarf walked past her. Ragnarsson inclined his head as he stepped into the room,

"Thank you Agnes." He replied, "I don't suppose I could trouble you for a pint of stout?" Agnes curtsied and hurried off into another, adjacent room while Ragnarsson settled himself into the closer of two wingback chairs situated next to a large fireplace.

The Archlector's office was more akin to an apartment. The main office had several comfortable chairs dotted around the space, with two large couches facing one another in the centre. Bookshelves lined every wall, all of them covered in various little trinkets and knick knacks along with many books in nearly every language spoken on Titan. Doors led off to other rooms, one of them a small kitchenette, another a water closet, one that led to the Archlector's bedchamber and one more tucked into a far corner, which led directly to the Contemplation Chamber. 

"Your stout, Father." Ragnarsson blinked and looked up at Agnes, smiling as he did,

"Thank ye, hen, it's much appreciated." He said, taking the offered tankard and placing it on the coaster on the arm of the chair. Agnes bobbed her head,

"It's no trouble, Father. Are you well, though? I only ask because you seem troubled." She noted. Ragnarsson shook his head,

"I'm as well as I can be, given the circumstances." He replied, "How fares His Grace?" He asked. Agnes chuckled,

"He is as spry as ever Father Ragnarsson. All His Holiness said on the matter of the Fireball in the Council Chamber was that whoever cast it was, and I quote, 'Clearly not trying hard enough and is a lousy shot'." 

"Indeed, I've seen my grandfather throw rocks with more accuracy the day before he passed into Moradin's Hall." An amused voice called from the other side of the room. Agnes beamed as the Archlector shuffled out of his bedchamber, having changed into more comfortable robes. The elderly dwarf motioned for Ragnarsson to remain seated even as the younger man began to rise. He turned to Agnes,

"Be a dear and ask the kitchen staff if they can send a plate of pastries, Agnes. I rather suspect the good Father and I will be here for a while." He said. Agnes bowed low and hurried off, leaving the two men alone in the room. The Archlector sighed as he sat down in the chair opposite Ragnarsson,

"Now then, I think I know why you're here, Jotunn, but can you confirm an old man's suspicions?" He asked. Ragnarsson nodded, made sure his tankard was secure, then leaned forward,

"Of course, Yer Grace. I wanted to know your thoughts on the reason fer Lady Frigidwake's visit." He said. The Archlector nodded, running a hand through his beard,

"Ah yes, to find out more about the God Clay." He murmured, "While I understand that many in the church are reluctant to allow the Grand Magus access to such knowledge, I see no harm in it. After all, she has already pointed out that we cannot allow the Hellmouth to continue to exist." Ragnarsson shifted uneasily,

"Aye, that is true yer Grace, but the fact remains; she'll not only need the God Clay but a Shaper. And the one we have is only barely of age, and hasn't even been trained on how to use the stuff." He retorted. Ragnarsson sat back in his seat and rubbed his temple, "Besides, only Ovaksson and his wife, you and me know about the lassie. If she goes off to Toreguarde with the Grand Magus, then folk are gonna put two and two together and they're gonna start asking some right awkward questions." 

“They might, but is that a good enough reason to not allow Gruksdottir to help if she is able?” The Archlector countered. Ragnarsson blinked owlishly at the much older dwarf. The Archlector continued, “I have been in Contemplation since the Grand Magus’ arrival, and I know what Moradin’s thoughts on this matter are.” he paused for a moment and regarded Ragnarsson critically, “Tell me, has the girl spoken of being Called, or having dreams or nightmares about the Hellmouth?” he asked lightly. 

Ragnarsson squirmed under the gentle, but firm gaze of the Archlector. While Gruksdotti had never approached him directly, he had heard that she had indeed been having regular nightmares for the last month or so. Ragnarsson had been hoping that it was simply the stress of adapting to becoming a fully fledged cleric so early, but given the circumstances… he heaved a sigh and nodded, not meeting the Archlector’s gaze and staring into the fire instead,

“I’ve not heard if they’re about the Hellmouth, but, aye, the lassie’s apparently been having regular nightmares for the last month or so.” he confirmed. The middle aged man winced as he heard the Archlector’s disappointed tutt,

“Jotunn, you know as well as I that we can’t ignore such things.” the elderly dwarf sighed, “If Gruksdottir’s been Called to assist in permanently sealing the Hellmouth, then there is little we can do to stop her from going.” Ragnarsson returned his gaze to the Archlector and shook his head,

“I know that, but, as I said earlier, the lassie’s had no training on using raw God Clay. It’s no’ right to send her off with well wishes and hoping fer the best.” The Archlector hummed, tapping a finger on his chin,

“That is a bit of a pickle.” he agreed, but he raised an eyebrow, “However, she wouldn’t be able to get the proper training regardless. Fangthane has no raw God Clay for her to begin to practise with.” he pointed out. The Archlector sat back in his seat, relaxed, even as Ragnarsson blustered, “Personally, I have faith that the girl will manage just fine, provided she keeps her own faith in Moradin throughout the trials He’ll set before her.” 

Ragnarsson stared at him, eyes wide. Uncertainty gripped at his heart. There was less than a year for Gruksdottir to learn the secrets of the Gift she’d inherited and for her to find and use whatever God Clay remained. There was also the matter of the enemies of the Grand Magus, who likely wanted the Hellmouth to reopen, they would all set their sights on the girl the moment they discovered her involvement. Could Ragnarsson take the risk of having the life of a member of his flock snuffed out before it had truly begun? He startled as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Your concerns are valid, Jotunn.” The Archlector said gently, now sitting on a footstool in front of the middle-aged priest, “However, you must remember that Moradin must have faith in Gruksdottir and her ability to succeed, otherwise He would not be Calling her.” Ragnarsson took in a deep breath and nodded as warmth flooded into him,

“Aye. Aye, ye’re right.” he stuttered, his fear abating, “So, what do we do about the Council’s insistence on not allowing folk to leave the mountain for Toreguarde?” he asked. The Archlector smiled as he stood,

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll come around to changing their minds soon enough.” he replied lightly. A shiver went down Ragnarsson’s spine at the elderly dwarf’s words. Was it his imagination or did the floor under his feet just tremble?

#aquadestinyswriting #the wizard's tale #a circle none can break #archlector vanskleig #titan fighting fantasy #jotunn ragnarsson #skarld firetome #darkhide

[serasvictoria]

Fifteenth entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie’s 500 Followers Challenge! And the last one (for now) so now I’m sad.

The prompt for this one is Snow White and the character is Ivar. These were also my favourites out of all the other ones I’ve posted so far. Prince in the first one, genderbent in the second one and Huntsman in the third.

All images and gif from Pinterest

Tagging @ritual-unions-gotme @vikingstrash @pomegranates-and-blood @quantumlocked310

#cherry pie's 500 #vikings #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #alex høgh andersen #fairy tales #my moodboards

[jadelynlace]

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath.

chapter two / read chapter one here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. smut below the cut.

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

There was an ache your feet contained, moving out of memory down the path but you could not recall why this one seemed to be so long. It was childish, your torment and exhaustion, heavy and foul in your heart but you moved forward, incurable search looming across your eyelids. “I will get help,” were the last words Ivar had spoke to you, the last time you were both in the realm of relishing in a life ahead. You spent many nights in those rocks, the moon looming over you and help never came. The tale that churned through the village at the time was how you wandered off into the woods and never returned back out. A victim of the elements, or hungered animals, perhaps gone to another establishment. You wondered who believed the petty story, especially since you knew of the best routes to take through all forests and hillsides from your upbringing. You ached to know why Ivar never brought back help.

*

The center of how the flowers bloom always caught your eye—spreading for their destiny to be taken away in the brisk spring wind when it would roll through. Your invisible business helped the sun stretch a bit higher, the sky lighting with the same passion that drove back your arrow; the relished sight of her reflection in the puddle of blood. Perhaps you could splash in it before the beasts had gone to lap it dry.

“You have been quiet for a woman of your beauty,” A sudden voice drew your immediate attention, your spot close to the woods that held your secrets as you watched the display of celebration before you.

“I have been watching,” You answered.

“And what is it you are watching for? How to enjoy a moment of celebration?”

“I am watching,” You repeated.

“When you have finished watching, perhaps you would care to come to my quarters,” The man finally spoke, curling the tone of his speech to lace your hair, intertwining the strands of amber.

“I would care not,” But your simplistic spite fell on ears that had long since been drowned with the mead, the man grabbing the neck line of your garment and lifting you.

“I am tired of chasing you to no avail. You are a fighter as I have seen, fight back,” He demanded, pushing you to lay across the ground, clad of covered feet stomping towards how you are positioned for him. “I would like to see the fight you speak of,”

“I watch and I learn,” You hissed, brushing the soot from the fabric of your clothing.

“You do not learn to fight by observing,” He laughed as you stood.

“You learn weakness,” You answered, still not backing from how his eyes watched you: how the silk of the dress hung to your breasts, how your fingers were long and nimble, neat and clean nails and he imagined what else your body could offer.

“Just like how everyone is weak to the end of a blade?” He snickered, the flash of the metal dancing daintily in his grasp.

“Yes, just like how everyone is weak to the poison in their mead,” You promised, a simple smile adorning your face as you crept back into the darkness of the night; only tossing a final look as the man began to gasp, his organs curdling as his body crawled towards his grave.

*

You visit Ivar’s quarters at night, dawned down the great hall as you creep along the floor. Ivar seated around an assortment of furs as you press the door open to catch him. 

“You haunt me,” He say lowly, a gaze torched through the blue eyes he owns as he has his head tipped towards where you stand.

“An evil spirit would haunt you, Ivar,” You state, “A spirit that wants revenge...have you done something you regret?” You ask, your feet taking you to the ledge of the place he sleeps, but his hiss simply stops you.

“I regret nothing in the path to greatness,”

“Do you regret not getting me help?” You finally ask. His shoulders sag briefly before he straightens himself up, a thin line of artwork catching the faint glow in the orange cast of the lingering fire. “Do you regret not speaking the truth about what happened?” Ivar only swallows thickly.

“Is that why have you come all this way to me? For revenge? Or for a different ending? I will kill you myself if that is what you are seeking,” Ivar growls as he raises. You notice the weight on the pillar he holds, how the legs he held so much hatred for are covered with iron as he clunks towards where you stand.

“I would like that Ivar,” You whisper as you watch Ivar’s face contort: his brow creasing to a sudden look of sadness as he catches the flames that crackle behind you. “You will do great things, Ivar the Boneless, but I have seen the gates of Valhalla, and they offer nothing that I can not get for myself now. I want you to remember one thing Ivar: everything always returns,” You hand moves on its own accord towards the chiseled cheekbone, streaked with petty battle scars but he flinches quickly from your touch.

“What have you done with the woman I once knew?” Ivar asked when his eyes finally catch yours. “I am a cripple and you…” His voice trails off as it dances between you two, soaked up completely by the moonlight. “You are back,”

“You need to rest Ivar. I will be gone in the mornings, and you can go forth,” You answer watching Ivar cast a look to where his body should be stationed: gorged in the warmth of the fur as the nightmares swamp through his mind for another night, but instead his hand catches yours as it retreats back towards your hips.

“You are back,” He repeats as the tone softens to such an extent you consider perhaps, someone else in the room is speaking for him. “Would you lay with me?” Ivar requests. “And give me that to remember on my voyage back?”

The room wafts against your nose the smell of him, you cannot explain the scent that has always reminded you of the man you knew, but your search for it came with no promises until you had moved to be next to him. Another couple of logs placed along the amber flames before you hear Ivar groan softly as the limp limbs he carries finally halt their torture to have their rest. The shine of his blue eyes are on you as your feet carry you back, a quick clicking from his tongue halting you in your attempts to pass him. Leveling to his gaze, he taps his own shoulder as your mind catches clue of his poem regarding the fabrics you wear. You carry on the next few moments untying how your dress has been formed, pulling the ends before it drops to your feet. Ivar’s eyes do nothing other than widen at the sight of your body bare for him, the clean, close shave of your mound and the lone traces of the injuries undetectable in the low light.

There’s a scream in your mind to climb over him, smother his body with yours and bloom pleasure between the two of you. There’s an even fainter call to struggle with him, stuffing the furs into his mouth to suffocate the voice that had been calling in your dreams since the nights you spent in the field. You body can do neither as his eyes fixate on you, a soft turn of his head as you find him studying you in beauty, your body written in a language for him to decode.

“What caused that scar?” He asked suddenly, finger outstretched to the crease across your hip bone as it slithered across the supple flesh on your inner thigh.

“A blade,” You response as you hear the man before you chuckle.

“A blade from whom?”

“A man who tried to have his own way with me,” You replied. “More than once,”

“Is he dead?” Ivar asked lowly.

“I poisoned him,” There’s a sick grin that claims Ivar’s mouth as you speak before him, a tick in the bones of his jaw as you spin the tale on to him of your efforts to harm anyone who has tried to harm you. Ivar must wonder why you have gone so long and spared him.

“Lay with me,” Ivar finally repeats, pushing back the mounds of fabric across the bed. As you round the structure, folding your dress neatly to rest across the far table, you still feel the climbing sting of Ivar’s gaze over your bare back. Trickling down the swell of your behind and over your legs, catching your chest in the light as another low hum slips on account of his studying. It does not take too much more of his wordless expressions to send the faint glint of arousal to slide through your womanhood, slipping across the plains of your thighs as you settle near his body. Ivar makes no motions to touch you, sliding down as one arm rests behind his head, the other caught in a line over his chest.

“This does not seem of something that would be memorable, Ivar,” Your voice catches his brows to raise as you too rise onto your forearms. “May I?” You ask as the pads of your fingers come to trace along the hardened length of his arm. He hums in compliance as you turn the limb from your path and gather yourself to rest along his chest, his arm coming back to circle you as half of a halo. His other arm wastes no time to complete the path as you sigh, breath fanning across chiseled muscles and lingering ink. He seemed stuck on how to continue, his arms still resisting to trace your body before you peak up to look at him. “I am not fragile, Ivar,” You whisper. Ivar turns his head slightly to catch your eyes, the faint pooling of the ink across the blue oceans as he watches you rise again, a throw of the blankets back before you’re across his hips.

“You misbehave,” He says to you.

“You bring it out in me. Do you not wish to lay with me like that Ivar?” You ask. But you get no immediate answer.

“You know that answer. But...there are many things you have missed in the time you have been away,” Ivar starts. “I—” But his words die against his mouth as you press your lips along his, sinking a quick pressure of your teeth into his bottom lip as you pull away. Room is limited as Ivar’s arms stabilize you against his chest, holding you there as if he fears you will simply float from his grasp before his mouth is hot against yours. The faint rocking from your hips catches him as his lips falter, his hands not ceasing as they explore every trace of your skin. “You will be disappointed,” Ivar whispers softly enough you almost miss his sentence.

“Can you not feel it? How my body responds for you Ivar?” You ask puzzled the lone pressing of his prick takes your notice from where you have your body spread. Ivar’s mouth parts as you grind your cunt where he grows, his head sinking back across the furs with a simple low moan of your name. You want to peel away the rest of what covers him, but the closer you drew to his lower legs the further Ivar went from you. His eyes situated with lust as your finger danced by his knees quickly dissipates until you pull your hands back to his chest. “Let me pleasure you, Ivar,” You say sweetly. “I will not undress you any further,”

Before you can sink down across him, Ivar stills you, watching how your breasts pebble to his touch, slipping his hands between your legs as your wetness collects along his digits. Your moan is matched with his alike, impatient to continue with his thumb still circling your clit, his own way with you tingling the sensation to bloom at your tailbone as your thighs start to shake. Ivar’s name falls from your lips in a moan as he studies you while you come, the simplest pressure from him still causing such a delicious outpour. You can feel his cock twitching, aching to be touched with the fluid pebbling from its head. Through still pleasure drunk thighs you sink across him, the sting of your walls spreading catching you to halt before he’s fully inside of you. A watchful face of concern as you hiss briefly at his size, finally sheeting him fully inside of you. Your tightness stills Ivar completely, a low moan dribbling from his lips as his chest heaves, tensing through his abdomen as your fingers dance over him. As the pain fizzles to spread a hum of glorious pleasure through you, your hips move on their own, Ivar’s hands gripping your breasts as they bounce slightly, your head tipping backwards. Still stuck watching you before you lean closer to him, his mouth hungrily taking yours as you feel him move his own hips towards you.

No words are exchanged, soft noises from both of yours mouths to be eaten back up again as you feel another wave roll towards you. Ivar’s arm lock around you and your climax hits you, his own pulling a release from his shaft as he fills your walls with his lips still stuck to yours. Breathing each other’s scent in as the final flames go out with the smell of sex through the air. Ivar makes no hurry to have you leave him, his cock softening as you nuzzle his cheek.

“Why must you leave?” You find yourself asking.

“I have a kingdom to return to, my people and my queen,” Ivar suddenly admits.

“You have wed?”

“Yes,” Ivar answers as you slowly pull back. “I told you that you would be disappointed. Freydis is with my child,”

“Freydis?”

“Yes,” His answer pierces your heart, not out of the sorrow of having then lost him to another woman, but of the battles you know he has no knowledge of. You laugh suddenly, a joyous giggle, trying to move away but he stops you. “Please stay, Y/N,” Ivar whispers.

“She is not with your child Ivar,” You find yourself suddenly spitting from your lips, wishful that you could stop them as your laughing dies to an end. “She has been laying with the baker’s son, and she is with his,”

Tagged:

@smileysam13579  @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk  @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @grimeundglow @another-bryk-in-the-wall​ @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @revolution-starter​

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full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings fiction #vikings au #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar au #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson smut #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x reader #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations ) #a dead woman tells no tales

[lisinfleur]

Beast

Author’s Notes | This was something interesting to be done. I tried to take some inspiration not only from the Disney story but also from the original story of The Beauty and the Beast. I really hope this is good for you guys, cause I have to be honest, I’m proud of the final result! Universe | Vikings, Disney Crossover Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, produced for @tephi101’s Dark Disney And Other Fairy Tales Writing Challenge Words | 6244 ⁑ Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood and fire.

Some would say he was Jormüngandr himself, made flesh to wait for the upcoming Ragnarök among the men. Some would avoid even mentioning his name, afraid he was really the god many thought he was and the mention would bring him in flesh and bones into their presence.

More flesh than bones, indeed...

Ivar the Boneless was many times called "the Beast" in the circles your family used to be.

A ruthless Viking, hard commander, with iron fists that would admit no questions to his ways and orders; many were the histories you've heard about the heartless (or soulless, depending on who was narrating the story) man that was conquering every single piece of Christian land around your village.

It was a matter of time until his men arrived in your lands and that was the reason why your father was away for too long: he had left you among your sisters to try and find a new place for the four of you to live.

Your mother had died trying to give birth to a boy that, unfortunately, didn't survive, leaving your father with their three daughters to raise all by himself. As a merchant, your father gave you and your sisters a good life, however, it didn't last long. Because of Ivar and his attacks, your father's products failed in reaching their destination several times and it ended up breaking your father's business, forcing him to reduce the luxury your sisters were so mad about and now, forcing your family out of your house in seek of a safer place.

There was a pair of months since your father left and you were starting to feel worried. He left instructions pretty clear to be accomplished if he wasn't back home in two months and a week and now the time was about to be over and you were dealing not only with the imminence of having to start over without your father but also with your sisters' tantrums about leaving without him. Both of them were now engaged to men as useless as they were rich and despite knowing they wouldn't be men enough to protect your sisters in case of an attack (you could bet your younger soon-to-be brother-in-law would dress in your sister's clothes and flee screaming like a lady just to ensure he wouldn't have to fight the Vikings), they didn't want to abandon the luxurious lives their husbands were promising them, ignoring all your warnings about the forthcoming time to leave.

But the truth was that not even you wanted to put those plans of your father in practice. You wanted him to come through that door and say everything was alright so when someone knocked on your door, the last thing you expected was to see one of those Norsemen looking at you from the top of his tall height, with a crow landing in his shoulder and a fierce glare looking at you.

They have arrived earlier? Was your town being invaded?

Why the horns weren't sounding?

"Y/F/N Y/L/N's house?" the man mumbled with a hoarse voice and a strong accent, stepping into your door without being invited as, shivering, you just stepped back.

"D... Do you know my father?" you dared to ask as that strange man was looking around.

"He told us it was three. Three daughters, he said," the man grunted, causing you to freeze.

Your father spoke to him about you and your sisters?

"Where the others?" he asked, looking at you.

"Where is my father? And who are you?" you asked, walking back until your butt touched the table where you started discretely groping after your letter opener.

However, the man wasn't as distracted as you saw nor he was patient to wait for an answer to his questions.

"Fuck it... You serve," he growled, advancing towards you before your fingers could touch the letter opener, lifting you over his shoulder and walking out, away from your house, ignoring completely as you were punching his back with all your strength.

"Lemme go! Put me down, you brute! NO!" you yelled.

But all he did was to throw you over the horse and mount it, riding away from your house fast enough for you to think jumping out of that horse would be suicide.

With no other choice and tears streaming down your face, you tried to focus on the idea that, at least, you would know what happened to your father. Scared, you started whining a low prayer, begging God for a better fate than your father had.

  It was a long - and silent - way until your eyes landed in a huge camp. Dozens of dozens of tents were placed everywhere around fire pits and men like that one carrying you were walking freely around, causing your spine to freeze: the Norsemen were there... It was far from your house, but you knew a good army could cover that distance in a day or two, maximum. Your village would be no more in a few days.

You felt your heart clenching when the man entered the camp more and more until he was near the biggest tent of all. You then understood what was about to happen... Outside of that tent, a chariot made of red leather you've heard some people believed were human leather. It didn't look like human skin, but you had to admit it was pretty intimidating.

"Walk!" the man ordered, pushing you forward towards the entrance of the tent after taking you carelessly from his horse.

Stumbling on your dormant feet, you walked slowly into that place and your eyes landed on a man comfortably sat in a bed of furs where he seemed to be waiting for the two of you: Ivar, the Boneless. The Ruthless blue-eyed Viking everyone in your lands learned to fear.

He was tall and strong, imposing into those black leather clothes. And his legs were covered with a metal structure you didn't take time to observe. Your eyes landed on the space beside his bed where, on the ground and chained like a dog, your father was, kneeled.

"Father!" you wanted to run towards him.

But the man that brought you held both of your shoulders, forcing you back.

"So... You said three," Ivar said, looking at your father.

"The other two were nowhere to be found," the man holding you reported.

"They weren't home! They were with their grooms! Release me!" you forced his grip, having no success in moving forward not even a centimeter.

Ivar slid forward in bed, placing his two feet on the ground with those metal armors clanging when he stood, picking a crutch to walk towards you.

God... That man was a wall! The more he approached, the more you understood how taller than you he was until he was looking at you from upon your head and you had to look up to face his fierce and limpid blue eyes.

"Please... She's just a girl, leave her alone," your father cried when Ivar touched your chin, almost as if he was examining a new slave.

"What is your name, woman?" he asked with the same strong accent that first man had, but kinda different.

Somehow, his tone was... Intense... Alluring.

"I'm Y/N," you answered.

"Do you know who I am, Y/N?" he asked.

Your father was still begging behind him, chained like a dog, pleading for your life. You knew you had to be brave if you wanted to save him.

"You're Ivar, the Boneless. The most feared man our lands ever knew," you mumbled.

And for your surprise, he giggled, looking back at your father with an enormous and beautiful smile on his face.

"You well educated your daughter, my friend... I like the way you speak about me, woman..."

You mutely thanked God he, somehow, was amused by your words.

"You see," he continued, "Your father is my prisoner... I caught him around my camp, stealing flowers from some bushes."

Your father lowered his head and your heart clenched on spot: when he left, you remember your father asked his three daughters if they wanted anything from his trip. Your sisters asked for jewelry and dresses. You? You said a single flower would be enough.

God... You wish you were greedy like your sisters once in your life.

"Since he was stealing from me, I think he can stay and serve me for the time I think it's right to pay the flowers he stole from me..."

"Please, release him from your punishment," you asked, surprising Ivar with your audacity of cutting his sentence before he could finish, causing him to look at you with an ironic doubt in his face.

"Are you asking me to let the thief go without any payment for what he did?" he asked, and you nodded negatively.

"No. I'm asking you to release my father from his obligations so he can go and tend for our family. I'll stay in his place."

Your father tried to get up immediately, completely nervous with your words.

"No! Y/N, for God, I beg you, no!!"

But you ignored him and continued, knowing you were doing the right thing.

"And as a way to prove you I'll serve you in goodwill, I offer myself to fulfill twice the time would be my father's punishment. If he would serve you a day, then, I'll serve you two. If he would serve you a month, then, I'll serve you two. I'll pay his price twice. One for the flowers he stole from you to bring as a gift for me. Another for your benevolence to let him go back to my sisters."

Ivar's face changed from the irony to genuine surprise as your father whined behind him, crying your terrible decision, knowing the Norseman wouldn't lose a chance for such a good deal.

"Would you serve me twice his price simply to warrant I'll let him go?" Ivar asked, looking into your eyes as if trying to confirm your bravery.

"Noble commander, my father is everything I have. My mother left us for the sake of our Lord's call when trying to give birth to a brother I never knew. The man behind you gave his life to raise me and my sisters with everything he could give us that was the best. He fed me and dressed me from the sweat of his collar. Tell me, why wouldn't I do the same for him? I do, my lord. I'll serve you twice his price. Three times if you want. I just ask you humbly to let him go, for my sisters need him back."

His surprise was converted into doubt and you saw in his eyes he wanted to test your heart.

"Fine. I accept your deal. Release the man," he ordered and the man who took you walked forward to release your father that instead of coming towards you, fell on his knees near Ivar's legs.

"Please... I beg you! Don't listen to my child! She doesn't know what she says! Please don't take her! Don't keep her like this! Please! PLEASE!"

Your father's voice became louder and louder while that man was dragging him away from the tent.

"If any harm is done to him, I'll cut your hands, did you hear me Ulf?" Ivar said, and you hear that man grunting something between a word of acceptance and an intelligible mumble you couldn't hear.

"How can I be sure of your kindness and honesty, my lord?" you asked, causing Ivar to giggle.

"Believing my word. The same way I'll do for you, woman. You could kill me while I sleep or leave my tent and flee. Such as I could kill your father or order his killing before he arrives at your home. We'll have to trust each other, I think... It's a fair situation, don't you think?"

You were forced to admit he was right and with this, you silenced, praying mutely that God would take care of your father and promising you would fulfill your oath to that Norseman in order to keep his safety.

"Well," Ivar's voice woke you up from your thoughts and you noticed he was pretty near you now. "I have a beautiful servant... However, you're my servant, not my slave... So, I think I should treat you properly instead of asking from you the services a slave would do, right?"

You felt your spine freezing. The services a slave would do...You remember your father once told one of his friends those Nordic men had slave women for nothing but having sex with them all the time. You shouldn't have listened to his conversation, but it came to your mind immediately and you looked at the man who would now be your master, thinking you had to give him good ideas to use you without compromising your honor.

You still wanted to find a good husband and have a life after that horrible situation. So... You had to fight for your future if you wanted to have any.

"I know how to read, and to write, in English, of course. And something in French," you started.

Causing Ivar to immediately turn his attention from the apple he started to bite to look at you.

"French? From Frankia?"

"Yes, my lord," you said, and he smiled.

"My uncle is something like a king or a duke in Frankia. Some of these important positions you Christians created. I would like to have someone to teach me their language... Here is something useful you can do. What more can you do, servant of mine?" he asked, mimicking your pompous way to speak with a mocking smile in the corner of his lips.

But you kept the respectful tone, still avoiding to look straight into his eyes as a good servant should do to her master.

"I know how to sew, embroider, cook, and wash. I'm a good cleaner. I also know how to properly take care of cattle and animals. If you allow me, I saw you have a horse to pull your chariot, and I know how to treat his health and appearance properly for a king's horse..."

"Was you Y/F/N's daughter or his servant, Y/N?" Ivar asked with a legitimate curiosity in his face. "You do everything a common servant does..."

"I'm his daughter, master Ivar," you said, looking at him. "But I was raised to become a good housewife. And after your army arrived in our country lands, my father lost everything to raiders and his business was closed. So, we lost our servants and I started caring for the house by myself," you explained. "This way, I've learned everything a servant should know. And I also worked for some neighbors that paid me for some of my tasks in order to have some more money for my father's house, my lord."

"Ivar... or Master Ivar. It's enough," he said, sounding a little softer than you could imagine from a man like him with the stories people used to tell about him. "Well, as long as you're here, I'll provide you with food, clothes and anything you need. You shall take care of my horse as you said cause I'm curious to see what is it that you call 'treat his health and appearance properly for a king's horse'. This will be done in the main time when you're not teaching me your language's minutiae and the French you said you know. We shall speak in English for you to understand, but I'll teach you my language so you can understand the people around you when I'm not here or near you. These shall be your tasks for the moment. You respect and report only to me, no other is allowed to give you orders nor ask you anything. You're mine for now and you shall stay for two years for your father would stay one and you promised to fulfill his punishment twice. If these conditions change, I'll let you know."

"Yes, master Ivar," you said, keeping the submissive action that really got something in Ivar's eyes towards you.

He would observe...

Something was telling him that would be a good deal, one better than he thought.

  "Je suis venu parler... à ton roi?" he made a small pause, looking at you to be sure he wasn't speaking it wrong.

And you smiled. His accent was pretty stronger in the French language and you couldn't say you weren't charmed by this anymore.

After all those months of living as Ivar's servant, you were starting to doubt all those stories about his savagery. At least, while learning from the parchments you wrote for him, with his brows frown and those blue eyes looking at you, he looked like a curious boy, trying to discover the mysteries of a different language and culture.

"That's it, master Ivar. Très bien!" you smiled.

Getting his brows to relax and his lips to curl in a gentle and satisfied smiled you learned was your favorite expression in his face.

One that he only had for you in all those months.

Ivar was always so serious and full of that imposing energy that you could understand maybe nobody had ever seen beyond that bestial mask, but somehow, you managed to enter his shields and what you saw was a treasure hidden from everyone.

"It's almost a year now," he mumbled, coming to sit by your side. "You have been fulfilling your promise to me and living as a servant in my house without complaining. You followed me from those tents to this castle, you cared for my horse, for my food, for my pains, and everything related to me and obeyed me without a single question."

"That's what I promised, master," you said, but this time, he touched your chin.

"Ivar," he mumbled, looking at you. "I think, more than my servant, you became my friend... I would like you to call me by my name from now on."

You smiled, unable to deny what he was saying. Indeed, you felt like a friend for him and it was true that he didn't have many people that wasn't around him to talk about battles and incursions. You became kind of a safe refuge where he could rest his mind from his overcoming days or search for help when his condition was too harsh with him - something you've learned about him as well: those braces weren't structures to make him look more imposing as some of your people thought it could be. They were sustainers, supports for his fragile legs that you, during this year, found different ways to care for.

You made Ivar's life lighter. You became a spot of light for him. One that he didn't want to think would go away someday.

"I decided I'll give you a gift for this first year of your promise fulfilled," he said, and you smiled at his gentleness. "Tell me, what is it that your heart wants?"

You were never too hard to please. It was never needed too much.

"I think I have everything I want, except for one thing..." you answered attracting his eyes towards you.

"Tell me. Jewels, richness, dresses, lands... Anything will be yours!"

"I would like to see my family once again," you answered.

Swallowing dry when his smile faded and his eyes looked at you first worried, then, in disapproval.

"No," he sentenced, almost in an angry tone. "I offer you anything and the first thing you think of asking me is to flee?"

Your heart ached. He understood it all wrong!

"No, master Ivar, I just..." you tried, but his voice became harsher towards you and then, you knew nothing could be said anymore.

"Leave!" he ordered. "You won't go anywhere! You won't make me a fool! There is still a whole year of your punishment to be fulfilled and you won't find a way to cut it in a half! Leave! Now!"

You made a small reverence, respectfully. And left the room hearing his angry growls inside remembering you that inside he could be that sweet boy you were learning to like so much. But outside there was still a beast. One that didn't like to be counteracted.

  The days passed since your first year completed - and no gift was given to you, but it wasn't something you were expecting, after all, so you didn't get sad. You never wanted Ivar to be so mad at you for a simple ask and trying to soothe his heart, you searched among his clothes that cloak he told you his mother had done to him. One that he had sunk into the deepest part of his vault when a situation in battle had torn its tissue, causing it to be marked and destroyed. You could remember how sad he was when he lost that single memory of his "beautiful mother" and so, you worked on the fibers, slowly restoring the sewing and treating the cloak until it was remade. You fixed the embroidery taking care to use the same kind of lines and tones of color to warrant the work would be perfect in the end. And you polished the leather pieces she made for him to tie the cloak hood, making them look like new once again. You washed all the mud and dust from the cloth and with some effort, you gathered the right fruits outside to make the pigment to re-dye the tissue, washing it some more times until the dye was fixed and the cloak was new.

With your work done, you knocked on Ivar's door, asking his permission to get in, observing as he was still looking at you with an offended glare you never wanted to trigger.

"What do you want?" he asked, ready to deny any second attempt of yours to see your family and leave him as his heart was fearing you would do.

But you came closer, silently placing the cloak near him, catching his eyes surprised by the appearance of new the cloth had now.

"You... fixed it?" he asked, picking the cloak in his hands, looking at the restored tissue with tender eyes, smelling the cloth and feeling the scent of the dye - the same fruit pigment his mother had used initially.

You could swear his eyes were teary when he closed them to smell the cloth once again.

"I thought it would make you happy," you mumbled, keeping the submissive attitude that had won his heart for you before.

Ivar looked at you with a sigh, a heavy breath.

"I fear you'll leave me," he mumbled, justifying his denial to your ask almost a month ago. "I fear you'll go and never come back. I fear you'll leave me alone again. I fear the loneliness that ceased existing after you came."

He feared.

Ivar the Boneless was admitting he was afraid of something because of you. You sat in front of him and he placed the cloak aside, touching your hands.

"You're not my servant. Nor my slave. You became something more than that to me. I never felt like this before nor so close to someone as you became closer to me, Y/N. I fear you'll go away. And I'll be lonely again."

"Once I promised I would serve you for the time my father owed you. I told you I would serve you twice this time. And here I am, a promise fulfilled to this day without any questions nor failures. Do I have your trust, master Ivar?" you asked, your eyes in his.

And Ivar sighed.

Since the first day, you never gave him a single reason not to believe in your words.

"You do," he answered, caressing your fingers softly. "I'll let you go and see your family. But you must come back in a week. I'll be very lonely and sad without you here," he confessed, causing your lips to curl in a gentle smile.

"I'll be back in a week, I promise," you warranted, feeling when his hand touched your face, cupping the side of your head without difficulty.

Ivar was huge near you, yet his touches were so kind... You leaned your face into his hand. Your heart was long ago melted for him and you knew that.

"When you come back, I want to make you a proposal. But only when you come back," he said, looking at you.

"Just one more reason for me to come back soon," you answered, smiling at him.

With this said, he kissed your forehead and allowed you to pack your things and prepare to leave. Ivar borrowed you a horse with small bags on its saddle for you to take supplies and your clothes.

And before you left, he came outside, to say his goodbyes and insist one more time.

"One week," he repeated.

But instead of giving any chance to the fear you could see in his eyes, you smiled from the horse towards him.

"I promise," you warranted, leaving under his eyes that followed you until he could no longer see your horse going away.

If you could only foresee what was to happen, you would never be so smiley over that horse. Instead, you would have never left Ivar's castle nor his side that cursed day...

You arrived in your village to see it completely different. The walls were reinforced, the whole place was closed like a fortress. It didn't look like the pacific village you knew since you were born.

You were surprised by the guards' reaction when you arrived at the huge iron doors and you had to wait a lot until one of your sisters finally came to recognize you and allow your entrance.

"We thought you were dead at this point! How did you survive all this time with that monster?"

It pained you that Ivar was still seen like this for your kind.

"He's no monster, Y/S/N. Ivar treats me well," you tried, but your sister scoffed as the two of you were walking inside the town.

"For a slave, of course. We're glad you came back home. We thought you would never be able to flee from that man."

"I didn't flee," you insisted. "He allowed me to come and see you. Where is our father?"

"In bed, sick since you left," she answered, for your disgust. "Our father never surpassed your capture, he blamed himself for the tortures you should be facing and fell ill since them. I think you came on time to see him one last time, Y/N."

Your heart clenched in your chest and you ran back home ignoring everything around and all the changes you could see. At your home, you confirmed your sister's terrible words kneeling beside your father's bed. He was thinner, sadder, but his eyes filled with a glow of relief when they landed over you one more time.

"My sweet, sweet Y/N... That monster didn't kill you, my child," he mumbled, and you caressed his hands, sighing anguished.

"No, father. Ivar is no monster... He has been treating me well, respectfully. I have a good life by his side and he allowed me to come and see you for a week since I have been fulfilling my promises to him. He's no monster, my father. You didn't hurt me or left me behind."

"Your words are only to bring gentleness to my heart, my princess. I can only imagine what kind of horrible things that Norse demon did to you that your kindness is hiding from your old father's ears," your father sighed.

But you held his hands, caressing his face softly.

"There were no horrible things, father. I have been teaching Ivar how to speak French. And he asks me to sew, sometimes to clean for him. He's a sick man," you said, changing the cloth on your father's forehead, gently checking on his temperature and comfort, like the old times. "Ivar is a pained man, mistreated by god. His legs are wounded and those braces are what allows him to walk. But they hurt his legs for this and he has horrible pains. I think God had mercy of him by sending us in his direction, my father. My hands soothe his pain, my teas help him to sleep, my presence soothes his heart and the loneliness he was dipped into."

You had a long conversation with your father, gently telling him about your days, but your sisters' ears were attentively catching parts of your words that they spoke on their husbands' ears when you weren't hearing, about Ivar's pain, about Ivar's weaknesses, about how hurt he was, how fragile were his bones. They took from you what they needed and your brothers in law prepared their men.

You spent the whole week unaware of what they were doing but when it was time to leave, things unfolded in front of your eyes like a blanket of pure treason when your sisters stood in front of you.

"You cannot leave," said one of them.

"You'll go anywhere, Y/N!" insisted the other.

"You'll no longer serve that beast we'll care to take down tonight! Our men have his castle surrounded and we know how to take him down. It's a cold and perfect night! Without the fire supplies of his castle, he'll be weakened. The beast will fall down!"

It was a cold night indeed. And in the cold, Ivar was weak. You understood they took it from your words and your heart broke into your chest.

Your sisters ignored what you said, your brothers in-law wanted nothing but the glory of killing the beast Ivar was known to be. But you knew he was no monster. You knew there was a good heart inside that man. You more than anyone knew you were his only chance just as you were the door through where your family found a way to reach him.

Without a word, you pushed your sisters aside. And your brother in law who tried to stop you discovered Ivar taught you very well how to defend yourself from any man who tried to hold your body: a pair of kicks in his balls and you broke free to run to your horse, leaving anything you had brought behind and riding in a fast pace towards Ivar's castle.

The place was surrounded but Ivar had taught you the passages through the castle in case you and he needed to flee. You used them on the opposite side, getting into the castle through the trapdoor at the end of the tunnel in the forest.

The castle insides were stone cold! There weren't lights; yet you ran through the stairs, through the halls, begging Ivar didn't leave yet... Wanting he didn't have been caught.

When you broke into the room where the two of you had mounted a small library, you finally felt a breeze of warmth, but a cold shiver went down your spine when you saw the traces of blood on the ground, dragging itself towards the back of the library where a light was poorly illuminating the place.

"Ivar? Ivar!" you called, squeaking when a dagger crossed your way sinking itself on the wood of the shelves right beside you.

Your eyes saw him on the ground, near a small firepit he made burning some of your parchments and books the two of you were reading together.

"Serpent perfide..." he cursed in French, looking at you with fierce and hurt blue eyes. "Am I saying this right, dear Y/N? Or did you teach me the wrong words? Can I trust you, my dear friend?"

Your heart broke into pieces. He thought it was you!

Of course, he thought it was you! Your brother in law was outside with his men! Your village's standard in every flag! Of course, he thought it was you.

But it wasn't. Or was it?

"I didn't... I swear... God! You're wounded!" you tried to walk forward when you saw he had an arrow in his flank.

But even bleeding, Ivar threw a second dagger, this time, scratching your face before sinking itself on the wood behind you.

"Not a single step forward, traitorous snake! Or I swear I'll kill you! I'll die here... But I'll take you with me!" his potent voice sounded breaking your heart one more time. "You delivered me... You told them how to weaken me... They killed my slaves, wet my firewood, locked me into this cold castle where I can feel nothing but pain. They knew about my sickness... They knew about my weakness. You told them everything!"

There was so much anger in his eyes! But more than that, disappointment. You could see he really trusted you and was really feeling betrayed. But it wasn't your intention... You never wanted to hurt him like that.

"I didn't tell them anything. My brothers in law must have heard me when I told my dad about you. My father was sick in his bed. I told him about how you weren't bad to me, to soothe his heart. It was a mistake... I should never have left your castle, my lord. Please, allow me to help! Let me approach..."

"So, you can sink a dagger in my heart by yourself? No!" Ivar yelled back, bringing tears to your eyes.

"I can help you reach the tunnels. There is no one in the woods. They know nothing about the passages. I can help you to flee, Ivar. Please!"

"Why should I trust you, Y/N? Why should I trust you when you gave me to them like this?" he asked.

And so, you gave up your coverage, walking freely towards him, even seeing he was holding firmly a third dagger that could kill you.

It would kill you.

If he ever had thrown that on you.

"You trust my word... Such as I trusted yours. You said once you wouldn't hurt me... I know you won't. I believe in you," you cried, kneeling beside him, touching his hand with the dagger, knowing he could sink it on your heart whenever he wanted.

Instead, Ivar let you touch his hand. He felt your other hand caressing his face. And you saw him closing his eyes, so full of pain.

"Why did you tell them? Why did you tell them how to hurt me?" he asked, so hurt. "I was waiting for you to come back. I believed you would come back and I was waiting to ask you to stay forever. I was waiting to ask you to be my wife," he confessed.

And you sobbed, touching your forehead to his.

"I didn't tell them, I swear. I never told them how to do such a disgrace. But I'll help you, my love. I'll take you out of here and I'll be by your side, Ivar. I'll be your servant. I'll be your wife if you want me. I love you... And I won't let you end here."

Ivar leaned his face forward and caught your lips by surprise, kissing you passionately, deeply, urgently. And you answered his kiss with love and tenderness, knowing your warmth was soothing the pain in his heart.

With your forehead touching his, you removed the arrow from his flank, holding his grunt of pain against your lips in a new kiss. You burned the wound so he would stop bleeding and helped him to warm his braces and dress them so he could walk, even slowly, beside you and with your support.

You helped Ivar to come down the stairs and through the halls. And you helped him to reach the trapdoor through where you came into the castle, helping Ivar to go down the tunnel.

"Go... I'll be right behind you, my love," you promised.

And this time, he trusted you blindly, following the tunnel as you told him to do.

You went back to the library, feeding the fire he started, turning it into a huge fire that started licking every shelf, every piece of wood in the castle. You threw the furniture down to the fire on your way and took with you his cloak and blankets for the winter nights. A bag of gold and silver and nothing more. When you slid down the trapdoor, the fire was already hot enough to burn your skin, but you closed the door and fled through the tunnel, meeting your beloved Ivar near your horse in the middle of the trees.

"A part of my army escaped. We have a meeting point not far from here..." Ivar said, caressing your face. "I'll never forget what you did today, but you know I'll come for them, don't you?"

"Spare my father, that's all I ask. And If you can, let my sisters flee. But I won't take from you your revenge, my love. Until there, let us get out of here," you said, throwing the cloak over his shoulders and helping him climb up the horse.

The frustration screams from your greedy brother in law filled the sky when he finally broke into the castle to find nothing but the ashes you left behind.

Riding into the night, Ivar embraced your waist and you relaxed against his chest knowing your beloved beast was safe and your heart could rest in peace.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #shot #Dark Dysney and Other Fairy Tales Writing Challenge

[violetcancerian]

Me when I'm stuck in awkward family gatherings:

#hobbit talks #family tales #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #except im drinking soda not mead #but yeah