Happy 2025! (We're going to ignore its been ages since I've updated.)
Special shout-out to @cdauni your ask gave me the boost of confidence to write this chapter!
Words: 7700
Warnings: all the feels and mild smut
Series Masterlist
Warmth and softness surrounded her, a tonic to her weary heart. She wanted to stay here, live in the contentment and peace offered in her sleep.
Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas.
Wakefulness slithered into her mind, nudging aside the residual sleep and dreams to coil around her mind and squeeze until her eyes popped open. With a muffled groan, Kari gave in. Her eyes slowly opened, bringing her fully into the land of the living.
The first thing she saw made her pause.
Lying within arm's reach was Ivar. Eyes closed. Long lashes dusted his cheeks. Mouth slightly parted. One hand tucked under his face and the other bridged the gap between them, as if seeking her out even in sleep. He appeared so serene in the moment, all the fury and fear wiped away, that impenetrable shield to protect himself was lowered to reveal a softness that was not witnessed during wakefulness.
Before Kari could appreciate the moment more, her bladder reminded her of its dire need.
Very slowly, she scooted off the massive bed, untangling herself from the gray sheets and blanket, planting her bare feet onto the cold, hardwood floor. A dim light came from one of the open doors in the bedroom. Trudging through her groggy memories, Kari thought it might be the bathroom, so she headed in that direction.
Thankfully, her guess was correct. Quietly closing the door, she flipped the light switch on and gasped at the magnificent bathroom.
The entire room was marble, with light gray marble walls, a matching light gray countertop, and dark gray marble flooring. A standing only, glass paneled shower was situated in the corner near the porcelain toilet. But it was the glorious bathtub that held her in its thrall. A gleaming white porcelain tub that appeared the size of a small jacuzzi. Even from where she stood in the doorway, she could see nodules in the tub where jets would come from.
At some point she was going to bask in that tub, she silently vowed to herself.
Finally emerging from her beautiful bathtub haze, she hurried to the toilet on the other side of the bathroom and did what she came there to do.
Standing at the bathroom sink, washing her hands in the warm water, her mind began to attempt to piece together the night before. She remembered the car crash, being at the hospital, and the reunion with Ivar. She could recall the drive back to the brothers’ house, cuddled against Ivar, biting back the tears and screams bubbling up in her throat.
Whilst in the hospital, the sun finally descended and now all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. Once they arrived, Ragnar and Hvitserk practically dragged her and Ivar to the kitchen, forcing them to eat something, carrying on a conversation nearby which she did not mind, as she picked at the sausage, cheese, crackers and grapes that Ragnar had pulled together for them. If she felt tired, Ivar looked like he was already asleep as he mindlessly put pieces of food into his mouth and chewed. Since stepping out of the vehicle, his hand held hers, refusing to release her. Even now, sitting next to her on a stool, he kept his hand always on her, either slowly rubbing circles on her lower back or hand placed on her thigh. For her comfort or his own was debatable, but she would not deny how it filled her with a comforting warmth.
After they had consumed enough to satisfy Ragnar, the two were allowed to retire.
Asking politely where the spare room was she could sleep in, Kari was shocked by the loud snarl that erupted from the man beside her and his sharp comment of ‘fuck that’. She was equally startled by the muffled snorts and chuckles by the other two Lothbroks still in the kitchen.
Without a word of thanks to his brother or father, Ivar grabbed her hand and led her away. She tried to pay attention where he led her. Going down a hallway away from the kitchen, they passed several rooms. The only one with an open door that Kari could glimpse into showcased a couch and shelves of books. The library. Heat flooded her cheeks when she recalled what happened last time they were in that room together. Had it really been over a month ago?
They continued, turning the corner into a new hallway with only one door midway down.
Weak moonlight peeked through the large windows to cast the bedroom in shade and shadow. The poor light illuminated the massive bed just in front of the windows. Gently, Ivar led her there, guiding her to sit down. After she settled, he walked towards one of the two doors to the right of the bed, disappeared for a brief minute and then returned carrying something.
“Here.” He handed her what looked like a t-shirt. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“I'm okay.”
He grunted, rubbing his temple and headed there himself.
Before she could second guess herself, she quickly changed into Ivar's t-shirt, guessing it was some sort of band shirt but unable to truly tell in the low light. She made a careful pile of her folded clothes, setting them on the nightstand next to the side of the bed. As she sat down again, her eyes roamed over the shadowy bedroom. It reminded her of a studio apartment…well perhaps a large one with the amount of floor space. To the left of the bed looked like a kitchenette, with a full fridge and a few small appliances on a countertop next to it. An impressive bookshelf stood next to a huge TV, mounted against the wall across the bed. The bed itself was easily a California king size, with a large, metal headboard, making Kari wonder if she could get lost in the enormity of it.
Before Kari could snoop more, Ivar opened the bathroom door, wearing just a pair of sweatpants. He slowly walked over to the opposite side of the bed, pain etched in every step, hand braced on whatever solid object was nearby to take some of his weight. After sitting down on the bed, he unbuckled his leg braces, the clunk of them against the nightstand as he leaned them against was loud in the silent bedroom.
Without a word, he pulled the covers down, dragging himself backwards and under the covers with a relieved sigh.
“Kari. Get in bed.” He grumbled when she apparently took too long to follow his actions.
Unable to fully suppress the small smile, she mirrored his actions, slipping under the plush covers on the opposite side of the bed from him. As soon as she settled, Ivar attacked. Using his long arms, he snagged her around the waist, causing her to squeak, and pulled her flush against him, her back to his chest, tucking his face into her hair.
“Good night, Kari.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head, a large hand splayed over her stomach.
“Sweet dreams, Ivar.” She placed her smaller hand over his, entwining their fingers.
He hummed a pleased sound in response.
In that unfamiliar bed, with all the trauma of the day, Kari expected it would take a long time to unwind and be able to sleep, to ignore the memories and the fear waiting in the shadows of her mind. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day and weeks leading up to it that helped her drift off into a peaceful slumber. As she lay in Ivar's arms, comforted and protected, safe in his embrace and cared for, she knew her peace was attributed to the man who looked at her like he would burn the world down to keep her warm.
Now standing at the sink, she stilled, planting her hands firmly on the countertop. The draw to turn away enticed her, to refrain from acknowledging the pain she could feel in her body. Stupid, she mentally chided herself, coward. So with a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to finally look at herself in the mirror. She was not sure what she expected to see. Logically she knew the car accident was minor compared to others, but she still expected to see…well, more. The left side of her head was tender, a dull ache radiating from it. A small band aid covered the cut on her temple, begrudgingly placed there by the discharge nurse at Ragnar's insistence. A few small scrapes were scattered across her face. Tugging on the t-shirt she wore, the hem dancing along her thighs, the blossoming bruises following the path of the seat belt were just visible. As if with the reminder, a fresh wave of pain crested over her, her body sore and ached all over like she was recovering from the flu or had worked out too hard the prior day and was now dealing with the aftermath.
Her hands began to shake as the memories awoke with the review of her injuries. Images sealed in a locked part of her mind, jostled free from the car accident. The sun shone brilliantly that day, a perfect summer's day. The screeching of tires on the pavement. The crunch of two opposing forces crashing into one another. Devastation. Blood and screams. Blue-green eyes staring into hers but unseeing. Even as she cried his name, begging him–
“KARI!”
The abrupt shout of her name startled her from the spiraling her brain attempted to drag her into, forcing her to relive unwanted memories. She dragged in a shuddering breath as the memories vanished like smoke.
Immediately, she turned and opened the bathroom door, walking back into the bedroom. Whatever her mind could possibly conjure was in no way close to the sight before her eyes.
Ivar sat up in his bed, covers pooled around his waist and bare chest on display. A sight that would have been drool-worthy normally. But not now. Not with his wide eyes, panic and terror evident in them. His chest rising and falling as if in a fight for each breath. Hands clenched the gray sheets.
As soon as the bathroom door opened, panicked eyes swept to her, those blues churning like an uneasy sea.
“Kari?” He mouthed in a near whisper.
“Yeah.” She hesitantly replied, never seeing him so distraught before. “Ivar, are you okay?”
“You're here.”
“Yeah.”
“You're here. You're here.” He stared at her, speaking as if to himself, as if reassuring himself she was not a mirage. “You didn't– you're not– ohh fuck…you're– fuck!” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes roughly, the dark cast on his right hand most likely grating against his skin.
“Ivar?” She moved a step, concern drawing her in.
His eyes raised back up to her, tears filling them, chin wobbling. He raised a hand out to her, silently beckoning her closer.
And she responded with a second thought.
Hurrying across the space, she crawled back into the bed until she was next to his trembling form. Before she could apologize or question him, Ivar did something she never thought she would ever truly see. He tucked his head into the crook of her neck and began to cry. Not soft, silent tears. Not feeble cries of sadness. No, these sounded like they came from the depths of his soul. A keening of helplessness, of despair, of brokenness. With gasping breaths, he clung to her like she was a mast on a ship rolling on stormy waves, hoping to just survive.
Her arms banded around him, holding him close, feeling each ragged attempt to fill his lungs, body shaking with the force of his cries. One hand pressed against the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away. Listening to him, hearing him bleed out his pain and sorrow, how could she turn away?
How long they stayed that way, she was unsure. At some point, tears coated her cheeks as her own swirling, chaotic emotions spilled forth. Time morphed as they gripped onto one another, a safe harbor to weather the storm, to drain the turbulent emotions hounding them for weeks.
“I thought you were gone…” He choked out once his sobs lost their sharp edges. “I thought–fuck…I can't–I...” He tried to pull away, starting to lean back. She sensed that broken barrier of his attempt to rise, to separate them, to protect himself.
And she was not having that.
Not now.
Only allowing him to sit up enough so she could cup his face, she refused to let him fully retreat from her. His vivid, blue eyes swam with residual tears, red-rimmed and huge. Yet still so beautiful.
“Ivar, it's okay. I've got you.” She cooed, brushing the tear tracks from his cheeks, praying her touch soothed the cracked and bleeding edges in his soul. “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”
He exhaled a harsh breath as his eyes slammed shut. She could feel the fight drain from him, that need to protect himself. Once again, he gave in, surrendered to the tsunami of writhing emotions. He pressed his forehead against hers as his shoulders shook with soft sobs with the last of his tears, the purging of the final poison from the body.
“I'm sorry, Kari, I'm so fucking sorry. For everything.” The words poured forth, a dam unlocked. “I never meant— you didn't deserve that. I promised, I fucking promised! And then–” he choked on a sob, drawing it back in as his confession continued to flow freely. “I'll do anything, whatever you want. Just name it. I'll do anything. Just please…please don't leave me. I can't– I need you, I need you so much it fucking hurts. Please, let me make it up to you. Anything. Anything you want. Just don't– don't leave me alone.”
Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she listened to his words, heard the raw pain in his voice, and was finally allowed to witness the sheer well of need and feelings he kept locked up to protect his heart. A well she had only caught glimpses of in the past, but now the gate was wide open and she was allowed to enter. To truly see and marvel at the fathomless depths of his feelings.
Ivar hissed, voice thick, as he tenderly wiped away the tears dripping off her chin. “No, no, kjære. Don't cry, not for me. I'm not worth it.”
“Of course you're worth it, you silly man!” She laugh-cried. “I care about you…so much. It's been so hard being away from you. God, I thought of you everyday. I just– I needed space but I missed you so much.”
“Kari–” he whispered.
“And even after I didn't talk to you for three weeks, you still came for me. You saved me.”
“I didn't sav–”
“You saved me!” She interrupted, tone in such a way he was unable to refuse. “I was so scared, I couldn't, I just–and then you came. And I knew I was safe. That everything would be okay cause you were there. That you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.”
“Fuck,” his voice hard with his confession, “I'll do anything to keep you safe. I swear it. I'd die for you, Kari.”
“Ivar, no–”
“I would. I'd do anything for you to be happy, even if that isn't with– I just need you to be happy.”
“I've never been happier than when I'm with you.”
He released a shattering breath, a shiver wracking his body, as if his body fought to absorb her own confession, her own truth.
“Want to know something I learned? I think I've known it for a while but I– I was scared for it to be true?” She did not wait for his response, thumbs gently stroking his damp cheeks. “That when I think of home– it's always your face that's the first thing that comes to mind.”
He groaned, voice hitching as he spoke. “Kari, fuck, kitten, you can't- stop making me cry, fuck!”
They both chuckled wetly, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other's presence. So longed for and finally here. Allowing their fractured, splintered hearts to begin to mend. Their touch, their words, a healing balm desperately needed.
“Kari? Can I kiss you?” Nerves and lingering fear tainted his voice as he asked. “Please?”
A million thoughts sped through her mind but only one word slipped past her guard, to touch the air and admit her need for him.
“Yes.”
Not wasting a moment, his lips brushed hers hesitantly, as if expecting her to pull away, to rescind her agreement. Once, twice, the gentlest of touches. A soft tease. A hesitant experiment. A hopeful promise.
Instead of waiting for him to take control, Kari firmly pressed her lips to his, melding their mouths together, the need for him overwhelming. Her hands tangled in his loose hair, keeping him where she wanted him. Refusing to give ground to the battle waging within him.
With the open invitation, Ivar invaded. What soft, pressing of their lips, sipping from each other's mouth, tasting what they both had desired and yearned for once again, quickly became heated. A clash of tongues and teeth. Hands tugging and roaming. A plundering. A feasting. A celebration and an apology embedded in each feverish kiss.
Under the onslaught of his affections, Kari found herself laying on her back on the bed, Ivar hovering over her like a dark guardian angel, wings of protection and adoration draped over her form.
After one more greedy kiss, Ivar leaned back, those piercing blue eyes peering down at her. “Fuck, kitten, I need you. I need– I need to know you're alright.”
“What..?” Her mind in a dizzying haze, but somehow through the fog, she knew what that typically meant. A tension replaced the languid ease, coiling in her gut as she prepared to push him away. It had not been even twenty-four hours back in his presence, she was not ready for that. She should stop th–
“I know.” He pecked her lips, silencing her worries as if sensing her insecurity. “I know you aren't – trust me, okay?”
She stared up at him, heart pounding within her chest, but unable to deny the devotion in his gaze. Somehow she knew, with every atom in her body, he would not dismiss her concern, not now. “I do. I trust you, Ivar.”
He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “You're too good for me.” After a moment, he sat up, hovering over her, hands gliding down to the hem of his t-shirt she wore. She tensed for a brief moment, in awe when he stopped and made eye contact, waiting for her permission.
“I trust you.” She murmured.
With that, he slid the t-shirt up her body, mindful of his cast not scratching her soft skin, and helped slip it over her head, leaving her in a purple sports bra and a black thong.
“You're beautiful.”
Tears welled back up in her eyes at the sheer adoration in his voice, the devotion in his eyes as he gazed down on her. Was this what a blind man looked like when he saw the sun or the stars for the first time? How could she not trust him? To fall a little deeper into the well of affection for him when he beheld her like that?
He gently brushed his fingers where she could feel the bruises from the seat belt begin on her shoulder. “Does this hurt?”
“Only a little.”
He hummed before tipping forward and placing a light kiss where his fingers had just touched. Instead of pulling back, his lips traveled. He placed gentle kisses along the line of bruises across her chest, only tugging her bra down slightly to kiss the space between her breasts before continuing the path downward.
Once he reached her side, he paused to meet her eyes. At that moment, she thought she could happily drown in the vastness of them, a clear sky she wanted to soar in forever.
Still gazing at her, he slid a single digit along her underwear line. “Can I?”
“Ah, s-sure.”
With tender care, he tugged her thong down her legs, making her heart race and nerves awaken with their descent, then he tossed them off over the side of the massive bed.
“Hey!” Her eyes followed their fall before snapping back to him.
“You don't need those around me.” He said cheekily, yet his gaze remained on the spot between her legs, bare for his perusal.
Nerves awoke the butterflies in her belly, making them dance and swarm. Subconsciously, she tried to shift her legs, to close them, to prevent her most intimate part from being on display.
“No.” Ivar snapped, but without heat, placing his hands on her knees to prevent her movement. He glanced up at her, watching, waiting. When she made no further movement, no denial leaving her lips, even as her throat constricted with the butterflies clambering upward, he smirked down at her like a conquering hero. “Good girl.”
Then for the second time that day, he did the unexpected.
Slowly, he slid back on the bed until he laid on his stomach, gaze never wavering from hers, keeping her restrained from moving, a prisoner to him alone.
“Ivar, what–”
But when his mouth pressed against her inner thigh, an open-mouth kiss so close to her core, her mouth snapped shut. Her eyes drifted closed as she gripped the sheet on the bed, anything to ground her from the sensation shooting through her body.
He chuckled wickedly then licked a thick, scalding line against her folds.
“Oh!” She gasped, body jolting at the new sensation, overly aware of the wetness already dampening her core.
“Gods, I've dreamt of this. So fucking good.” He murmured against her thigh before diving back in.
He teased her folds with his tongue, tasting, tormenting, driving her wild, lips occasionally moving to play and suck on her clit before returning to her core. When her legs closed against his head, it only seemed to spur him onward. Distinctly she wondered how long his tongue was as he seemed to be attempting to taste her spine through her, touching something within her that made her hips attempt to buck off the bed and infuse her moans in the air around them.
It was all she could do to remember to breathe, as he played her like an instrument he mastered. His name dripped from her lips like honey, a chanting of his name, a petition to her god. Every thought fled her body, her whole focus narrowed down to his touch, to the fire scouring her veins.
“My Kari. My kitten.” He whispered against her skin, branding her with his words, only to dive back in and feast.
She could feel that edge getting closer, that coil winding tighter and tighter within her belly, almost ready to snap, to fall into oblivion, when suddenly Ivar drew back.
“Don't you fucking leave me again.” He commanded hoarsely, biting her inner thigh, sending a wave of pained pleasure streaking through her. “Fuck, I need you, Kari.”
“Ivar, please….”
“Promise me!” He snarled, hands on her thighs, keeping her restrained, denying her the friction she so desperately sought. At her responding whine, he bit her again. “Promise me you'll stay!”
“I promise.” She sobbed, desperate for her release. Hands clawed at the sheets, the back of his head, anything to keep her from this tormenting limbo. “Please, Ivar, please!”
Then he descended, claiming her as if a man possessed, sending her soaring, seeing stars with a shriek of his name.
When she could finally open her eyes, heart still beating a rapid tempo within her chest, her gaze froze on the sight of Ivar leaning his head against her thigh, his eyes trained on her with a sweet smile on his glistening lips. Something about the curve of his mouth, the almost dazed look in his blue eyes, she realized she had never seen him look so soft, so blissful, like he had touched the stars alongside her.
Yet even in the afterglow of her orgasm, a realization of what she allowed him to do, of how she was still bare from the waist down. A flashing feeling of embarrassment and shame shot through her, but she tried to ignore it, refusing to give it the space to tear away the wonderful feeling she floated on.
“Hi.” She said, shyly.
He chuckled impishly. “That good, huh?”
Now a warmth blossomed on her cheeks. “I'm not sure I can move.”
“Mmmm…good. I don't plan on you going anywhere.” He crawled up her body, planting a smacking kiss to her lips then flopped on his back next to her. After a long, silent minute, he spoke up again, confidence wavering like candlelight in his voice. “Was it– did you like it?”
She almost laughed, turning on her side to face him. “Could you not tell? Gods, that was…”
“I've–” He huffed, running a hand through his hair as he stared up at the ceiling. “I've never gone down on anyone.”
“What?”
He started to open his mouth then snapped it shut and only shrugged, refusing to remove his gaze from the ceiling.
She leaned up slightly, just enough to fully see his face and catch his gaze. “Ivar, that was incredible. I think I'm still seeing stars.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She was charmed by his boyish pride, that twinkle in his eyes and the tilt of his lips upward, he looked so pleased with himself. “What…what about you? I mean, do you need–um…”
He laughed, carefully grabbing her hand and bringing it to his crotch. Instead of having her pull his cock out, he placed her hand on the fabric of his sweatpants. Immediately, she yanked her hand back, mouth open in shock at the large wet spot she had touched.
“What–”
“Apparently, I enjoyed it too. Fuck, I don't know the last time I cumed in my trousers. You were so fucking sexy though. Gods, I can't wait to do it again. I need to hear you moaning my name at least one more time today, preferably twice.”
“Oh my gods, Ivar! You can't-you can't say stuff like that!”
“What? That I found you moaning my name the fucking sexiest thing I've ever heard. Wait! Can you do it again and I'll make it my ringtone?”
She laughed, even as she ducked her head, pressing it to his shoulder with the wave of embarrassment crashing over her. “You wouldn't.”
His lighthearted chuckle was music to her ears. “No, those sounds are for my ears alone. I'm selfish when it comes to you. Only I get to taste you, to hear you moan, to hold you. And I won't apologize for being a fucking selfish asshole about it.”
Leaning back up on her elbow, she reached over and traced his Mjolnir necklace laying on his chest, biting her bottom lip as fresh thoughts raced across her mind.
“What?” He asked.
“I…I want us to work. I want an…I want an ‘us’. I want to be your girlfriend.” As his mouth started to open, she placed a finger over his lips. At his slow nod, she withdrew her hand and continued to trace the necklace, eyes on the swirls and markings on it. “But there's conditions. First, we need honesty between us. I know there's certain things with your work that you can't tell me about. And that's fine, I get it. But in regard to us, to our relationship, I need to trust you. You hurt me, Ivar. More than– like…ugh, it hurt. But I am trusting you won't do that again. That if something comes up and you question me and my feelings for you, that you'd come to me first instead of taking the accusation at face value. Okay?”
“I promise.” The agreement held a tone of reverence, as if vowing to her and his gods. It sent a shiver down her spine.
“Good, and one more thing.” She snapped her eyes up to bore into his. “If you ever lay your hands on me again like that, I will walk away and not come back.”
“I know, min skatt. It won't happen again.”
“I'm serious, Ivar. I won't– I can handle a lot but that…”
Somehow he seemed to understand what she meant. Tugging her hand away from the necklace, he pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I don't want you to be frightened of me. I never wanted you to be scared because of me. Others, yes. It's– it's a way to maintain control, to have others terrified of what you'll do in revenge. But not you, never you.” With his casted hand, he brought it to gently run the back of his fingers over her jaw, gazing at her in what could only be described as wonder.
She fidgeted under that look. “What?”
“You–you're too good for me.” He huffed out a chuckle. Carefully, he guided her to lay back down, both of them now laying on their sides facing one another. “I had planned to grovel for your forgiveness. I was willing to do fucking anything. Buy you whatever you want. I would even kneel to beg for your forgiveness, to beg for another chance to prove I can be better.”
“I don't need you to buy me things.”
“What can I do? How can I prove it?”
“You did already.” She whispered, losing herself in the sincerity of his voice and the pleading in his eyes. “You came for me. When I was terrified, you came. My hero.”
He laughed wetly. “My Kari, my beautiful girlfriend.” With an devious smirk, he leaned up slightly to slot his lips over hers, stealing a kiss. “Mine.” He declared before stealing another kiss. “My girlfriend.” Another kiss. “My sweet.” Another kiss. “Mine.”
She laughed, pulling away from his searching lips, to trace them with her fingers. “And you're mine. My boyfriend.”
“Fucking finally.”
“Ivar…”
He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, making her squirm, even as he snickered. “You think I was possessive before? Shit. I'm never letting you out of my fucking sight now. I'm going to keep you in my bed forever. There's no need for clothes, since I plan on having you over me…or under me as often as possible.”
She laughed, then squeaked as his hand traced up her bare thigh and grabbed an ass cheek. “Ivar!”
“I can work on my laptop. You can do your yoga next to the bed, then immediately get back in. We'll watch fucking good shows, not your romantic shit. Hvitserk will deliver us food. Hmmm…on second thought, he'll eat it. I'll pay someone to bring it in here.”
“You're being ridiculous. What about my wor– oh gods! Lydia!” She abruptly sat up, dislodging him in her frantic movement. “Oh crap! She's probably worried. I'm supposed to be at work right now! And I have my other job tonight. Oh no. Crap, crap, crap.”
“What other job?”
She scanned around, trying to remember if she had her phone. “What? Oh, I got another job in the evenings.”
“Why?”
“I…I needed it. My rent went up, so, yeah.”
“Kari,” he sighed out her name, trailing a hand down her arm, “I would have paid for your rent. All you had to do was ask.”
“I know, Ivar. I didn't want to. I can figure it out. It's fine.”
“Please, Kjære, let me help.”
Releasing a slow exhale, she shifted to look down at him. “I–I'll think about it. First I need to call Lydia. I need to tell her I'll be late.”
“You're not going in today.”
“I have too. I need the paycheck.”
He audibly growled, rising up beside her, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. “Kari, you were in a goddamn car accident yesterday and had a concussion. You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to let you go to work. And if I explain this to Lydia, I doubt she'd let you come in too.”
Kari hesitated because honestly, Ivar was right. Even after the pleasurable sensations from her orgasm, her body still felt sore and exhausted. It was that ceaseless drive to prove to herself that she could make it on her own, that she did not need anyone to take care of her. Looking at him though, with the way he seemed ready to tie her to the bed and force her to stay, she wondered if maybe this once it was okay. To lean on him for support and help in more than just friendship.
“Okay…” She caved, “I still need to call her and let her know. Do you know where my phone is?”
“Use mine.” He carefully scooted over and grabbed his from the end table, unlocking it and handing it to her. “We'll ask Hvits if they got your phone at the hospital. While you're calling, I'm going to clean up.” He placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead, a silent thank-you for her change of mind. Dragging himself back to his side of the bed, he swung his legs over the side and grabbed his leg braces, buckling them on.
Mesmerized by his movements, she could only watch his broad back, those tattoos she loved to trace on his skin, his muscular arms, which held her so tenderly, and strong hands that touched her as if she was a priceless gem. He put on the braces then pushed off the bed to walk to the closet door, slipping inside for a minute before coming out with new clothes in hand.
“See something you like?”
She startled, not realizing she was still blatantly ogling his form as he walked across the room. “Yes, I love your body.” She blushed after the words spilled out on their own conviction, as if yanked from her mind without permission.
With eyes widened momentarily, clearly stunned by her easy statement. After that split second, he stomped back over and leaned over the bed to drag her into a drugging kiss that had her gasping into his mouth and fire singing in her veins once more. “Gods, you're perfect.”
“Ivar…” she mumbled, her lips chasing his.
He chuckled, drawing back. “Make your phone call, then I'll take of you.”
She watched him walk into the bathroom and close the door before finally turning her attention to the phone.
Her conversation went as Ivar predicted. She called the main line of the yoga studio, then with Sasha answering, she got Lydia on the phone. Hearing about the accident and concussion, Lydia immediately told her to take at least the rest of the week off and to rest. Kari tried to say she did not need that much time but Lydia insisted and to call her if she needed anything.
Taking note of the morning hour, Kari realized she would have to call the clothing store later to let them know about her accident. They would not even be open for two more hours.
While talking with Lydia, Kari finally dragged herself out of the stupidly huge and comfortable bed to find her scattered clothing. Her black thong was on the ground beside the expansive bed, as if attempting to hide from her. Instead of putting on her own clothes from yesterday, she slipped back into the band t-shirt of Ivar's. In the morning light, she could see the skull on the black fabric and what must be the band's name printed over the top, she thought she recognized the name from one of Ivar's music rants. Next she wandered over to the kitchenette having spied the Keurig. A cup of hot coffee sounded delightful right now, but she became distracted by the dozens of photographs she had somehow missed last night with her initial snooping of his bedroom. She glided over barefoot to the wall of tacked pictures on a cork board almost as tall as her.
Most of the photos showcased stunning scenery, mountains seeming a favorite focal point. A handful of scattered photos were artistic shots of a gorgeous woman. Barbed wire tightened around her heart as she thought of Ivar keeping photos of a different woman, someone clearly important. At closer inspection, she realized it was actually Aslaug. With the revelation, she wanted to slap her own head at her jealousy, yet another part of her wilted at seeing another beautiful woman in Ivar's life. What was he doing with someone as mundane as her? He was in another league compared to her. She shook her head, a futile attempt to dislodge her own insecurities.
The creak of the bathroom door alerted her to Ivar's return but she continued to scan the photos, absorbed in the wanderlust they unearthed within her.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his bare chest, apparently only changing into new boxers and a pair of gray sweatpants that felt soft against the back of her legs.
“Mmmm…you look good in my shirt.”
She hummed as Ivar pushed her brunette hair over her shoulder and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Before she became too distracted by the handsome man holding her, she gestured towards the wall before them. “What are these?”
“Pictures.”
She rolled her eyes at his deadpan tone. “I figured that, thank you. I mean, who took them? They're stunning.”
There was a long pause before he answered, voice muted as if sharing a secret. “I did.”
“Really?”
“Surprised?”
“Yeah,” she answered truthfully, “you never told me you did photography.”
He shrugged behind her. “It's not something I do as often anymore. My mother tried to have me enter some contests when I was younger but I didn't want to.”
“You would have won, without a doubt. These are fantastic. Where are they?”
“All over. Locations I've visited and some of my favorite places.” He pointed to a picture towards their right, an audible edge of excitement infused in his voice as he spoke next. “That one I took at Floki's, it's the fjords behind his house. If you look at the bottom there you can barely see where he builds his boats.” He pointed to another a little higher. “That one was from a family trip to Switzerland. My brothers tried to ski and Ubbe ended up almost breaking his arm.” Next, he pointed to one on the left, just above her eye line. “That's of my mother with the Mediterranean in the back. We took a trip, just her and I when I was nineteen and had finally had my last fucking surgery. She wanted to do something extra to celebrate. It was just us for several days…it was nice.”
She tilted her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw, wishing she could soothe the longing, the nostalgia in his voice. “Thank you for letting me see these. These are…wow, I'm in awe. They're so beautiful.”
“Hmmm…” His lips caressed her ear as he whispered, “my favorite one is my phone's background.”
She dropped her head, practically melting against him as warmth flooded her cheeks. It was hard not to notice before she made her phone call earlier. It was a photo of her from several weeks ago, one she had forgotten about. They were out to eat, one of the many restaurants Ivar wanted her to try. Her gaze was focused off screen, having been listening to a man propose several tables away. Her soft gaze translated into the picture, a joyous undertone as she watched two people's lives change due to the love they shared. Her diamond studs and simple diamond pendant necklace caught in the flickering candlelight from the table making her sparkle. After the proposal, she had caught Ivar with his phone out, but instead of confessing to snapping a picture, he teased her the rest of the night about her love of romantic shit.
He pressed a slow, syrupy kiss to the back of her neck, making her shiver under his touch. “My girlfriend.” His lips trailed to the side of her neck and up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “My Kari.” He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “My beauty…mine.”
Before he could start something, she turned around in his arms, placing her arms around his neck loosely, feeling his hands settle on her hips. Silently, she scanned his face, noting the bruise-like bags under his eyes, seeing the crease in his forehead, the tension in his jaw.
“Ivar, how have you been? Really? Are you in pain?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“Ivar.”
He inhaled sharply, dropping his head to press his forehead against hers. “I don't want to talk about it. Can't we just focus on now?”
“Hvitserk told me…”
“What did that useless brother say now?” He snapped as her voice trailed off.
“Be nice.” She reprimanded without any heat. “He said you were drowning yourself in either alcohol or work. Or something like that.”
“That little shit. Can't trust him with fucking anything.” He grumbled, thumbs rubbing back and forth along the patch of skin beneath the hem of her shirt.
He did not answer right away, so she waited. She could be patient. Something she had noticed about him was his disdain for speaking about when he was in pain, physically or mentally. It would be easy to attribute that to his childhood, to the constant pain he endured, but somehow she knew it was more than that. Her hand massaged the back of his neck as she waited, almost hearing the gears turn in his mind as he debated on what to say. How much deeper to allow her into his inner world.
“Why do you want to know?”
An undercurrent of fear coated his question, that somehow she would turn his turmoil and fear against him. It fractured her heart anew for him, that it was so instinctual for him to have to protect himself, to never show any kind of weakness. That his only option was to be strong.
Instead of answering his question, she decided to share a glimpse into their time apart, hoping it would encourage him to do the same. “I thought of you everyday. Multiple times a day, if I'm being honest. I appreciated that you gave me my space, even if I hated it sometimes…but I needed it. It gave me time to realize how much better my life is with you in it. That I had already forgiven you after you ordered the food for me that next day.”
He cleared his throat before his words emerged like a confession, slow and halted. “Those first days away from you…I– fuck! I did everything possible to forget that I'd fucked everything up. That I'd lost the best thing in my life. Gods, I was so sure you'd never want to see me again, that you hated me. I even fucked some girls from a club to try and…well.”
She stiffened at his words but did not pull away, allowing him his space, allowing him to be vulnerable, even if it stung like a jellyfish's tentacles were wrapped around her body.
“I know, I know it was stupid. I don't even remember them, I was high on some strong shit to try and– I wasn't okay.” He sighed, pressing his forehead harder against hers like it would allow his words to seep into her brain, to prove his remorse. “Floki finally hit me a few times over the head, seemed to knock some sense into me. Don't tell him I said that, that damn asshole. After that, I threw myself into working. In the past week I've been mostly living in our business airplane. Gods, I'm–I'm fucking exhausted. It's a damn miracle I haven't broken anything. I feel like I've barely slept the past three weeks. And my legs…ah, fuck, they've been killing me. But I couldn't stop, I–I had to do something, keep moving, or I'd–”
She could see how hard it was for him to admit, like each word out of his mouth was a fight, a struggle to release the bonds keeping his weakness hidden and allow her to peer past the façade, to see how hard it had been the past three weeks.
“And your cast?”
“That night after you left…I broke my hand on a punching bag. Forgot to wrap it. Fucking stupid.”
“Oh, Ivar.”
“I want– even with those others at the club. They meant nothing. They are nothing! It was always you I thought of. It's always been you. Ever since that night in the club where you kissed me, it's always been you. And I promise, I'll always take care of you.” His voice caught in his throat, forcing him to swallow thickly to continue. “Please, kitten, please believe me.”
And she did. Gods forgive her but she did. It was in the way his hands clutched her hips, his anguish coloring the air around them, the way he begged for her forgiveness. He would do anything to repent for his sins, any penance she asked, he would comply.
But all she wanted was him.
“I do. I believe you.” She slid her hands down to cup his face to tilt his face to meet her gaze so he could see the honesty in her eyes. “It's been you too, since that night. I haven't even been able to look at anyone else like that. I think you've bewitched me.”
“If anyone has been bewitched, it's me. Fucking hell, got me crying and begging.” His lips grazed hers, a whisper of a kiss, a silent acknowledgement, a heartfelt promise. “Can you stay? I just want to hold you and rest and pretend the world doesn't exist. I just need you. Only you. Please?”
With her heart feeling three sizes too big for her chest, she silently guided him back to the bed and crawled in, cuddling into his warm body as he wrapped his arms around her.
For how could she refuse when he was looking at her like she was his whole world, like he would carve his own heart out and give it to her if she asked, like she was the peace in the midst of his hurricane.
Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.
I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.
Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!
Words: 3900
Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings
Series Masterlist
The day of reckoning had come.
A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods.
Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives.
It was a day for justice.
A day for vengeance.
And Ivar relished every moment.
*****
Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated.
Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them.
For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives.
Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come.
The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act.
A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him.
"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."
The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.
Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come.
Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted.
Fucking pathetic.
At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer.
The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it.
"Wake him up."
At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man.
The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now.
The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement.
Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."
Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief.
“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”
“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?”
He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case.
The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue.
"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination.
"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane.
Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.”
Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white.
With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”
Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her.
He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain.
The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”
He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off.
“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover.
He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”
Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side.
“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”
Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–”
Another smack reverberated in the air.
“Try again.” Lagertha spat out.
Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse.
“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!”
Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill.
Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”
Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands.
But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha.
Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.
After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing.
Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.
Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.
“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise.
In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs.
Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of.
A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still.
“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”
Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin.
“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”
“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”
“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”
Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”
“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”
“What happened?”
“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”
“Okay.”
The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”
There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered.
“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.
As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”
Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now.
“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.”
At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic.
A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…
Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face.
“Toss me your lighter.”
Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.
*********
As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed.
Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high.
“You live!”
“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence.
Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?”
“India.”
“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”
Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”
“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”
“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”
Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim.
The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them.
Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real.
Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm.
At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”
“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest.
At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”
Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”
That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side.
“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out.
He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name.
Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water.
A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket.
“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn.
A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?”
“Huh?”
“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”
His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number.
“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”
What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief.
Someone was calling him about Kari.
As an emergency contact.
From a hospital.
Where she is a patient.
A PATIENT!
In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him.
“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”
“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him.
His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying.
He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her.
A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting.
He had promised.
And he failed.
Again.
“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again.
“Yes.” He croaked out.
“Excellent, what you can do is park–”
But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call.
Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?
What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic.
“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”
“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed.
“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror.
“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.”
Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option.
She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes.
This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her.
Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”
Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass.
The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel.
Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”
“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort.
“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”
As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind.
Great chapter, a reminder of how violent he is and how Kari should totally still keep him at arms length because of it! She doesn’t even know half of what he is capable of!
Can’t wait for the next chapter, great to have you back 😘😘
Good news! I'm going to post the next chapter this week! Has if been over a year since I've updated? Yes, yes I has. Is that my fault? Technically, yes. BUT in my defense I had a baby. Yep, during my pregnancy and newborn stage my brain refused to create words. So instead of stressing myself out and creating content that I felt was sub-par, I decided to take a break until I felt ready to return to the writing world.
And here I am! Finally!
With that being said, this is a sound-off of who is still interested in the story. I'm tagging those who are on my list from before and those that have commented since then (I think I got everyone). Please leave a reply if you want to be tagged in future chapters. Those that don't reply, I will take off the list.
Also a huge thank you for those that have commented, liked and gone back and reread this story during my absence. I'm so sorry I just dropped this but I had to step away for my own sanity.
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)
Shout Outs - A massive shout out to @blackseapearl and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading, ironing out all the mistakes and the motivation to keep going with it. Special hugs to @blackseapearl for talking through the ending with me and giving me some much needed inspiration and the wonderful moodboard.
This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)
It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG….. and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @bragisrunes@noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3113
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
Masterlist
Chapter 14 - Final Chapter
He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.
He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.
One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.
A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.
“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”
He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.
When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.
Coming home. Too dangerous now.
See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.
He texts back quickly.
Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.
As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.
Always and forever, no matter how far apart.
———————
He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.
”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.
Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”
Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”
“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”
Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”
“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”
———————
He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.
It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.
The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.
“Alone?”
“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.
“I missed you so much, Liet.”
“Fuck I missed you so much too.”
They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.
Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.
“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”
“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”
Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.
It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.
When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.
“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.
“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.
They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.
“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”
“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”
“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”
Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.
“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”
“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”
A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”
A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”
“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”
Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.
She is ready now.
Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.
“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”
He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.
“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”
His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.
The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.
“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”
“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.
She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”
“Tell me more about him, baby.”
They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.
“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”
“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”
“8 hours.”
“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.
Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.
He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”
Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.
————————-
9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.
They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.
“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”
He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”
They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.
—————————
His phone beeps dead on 11am.
Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.
He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.
“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.
“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”
“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”
Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”
Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.
Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”
——————-
Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.
But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.
He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.
His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.
“Liet?”
She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.
“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.
————
The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.
“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”
“I can see that.”
“Shall I take the shot?”
“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.
Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”
—————
Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”
Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.
“In the next life, love,” she says
“Always and forever,” he replies.
She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.
———-
“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”
Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.
———-
Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.
The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.
This was so intense. 💣🔥The sadest thing you've written so far. I ❤️ every word. Such an unexpected end. Brilliant work. Thank you so much for sharing this masterpiece with us. 🥰
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3113
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
Masterlist
Chapter 14 - Final Chapter
He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.
He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.
One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.
A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.
“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”
He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.
When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.
Coming home. Too dangerous now.
See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.
He texts back quickly.
Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.
As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.
Always and forever, no matter how far apart.
———————
He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.
”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.
Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”
Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”
“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”
Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”
“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”
———————
He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.
It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.
The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.
“Alone?”
“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.
“I missed you so much, Liet.”
“Fuck I missed you so much too.”
They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.
Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.
“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”
“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”
Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.
It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.
When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.
“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.
“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.
They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.
“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”
“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”
“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”
Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.
“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”
“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”
A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”
A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”
“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”
Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.
She is ready now.
Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.
“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”
He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.
“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”
His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.
The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.
“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”
“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.
She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”
“Tell me more about him, baby.”
They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.
“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”
“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”
“8 hours.”
“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.
Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.
He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”
Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.
————————-
9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.
They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.
“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”
He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”
They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.
—————————
His phone beeps dead on 11am.
Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.
He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.
“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.
“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”
“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”
Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”
Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.
Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”
——————-
Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.
But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.
He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.
His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.
“Liet?”
She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.
“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.
————
The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.
“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”
“I can see that.”
“Shall I take the shot?”
“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.
Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”
—————
Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”
Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.
“In the next life, love,” she says
“Always and forever,” he replies.
She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.
———-
“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”
Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.
———-
Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.
The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3113
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
Masterlist
Chapter 14 - Final Chapter
He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.
He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.
One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.
A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.
“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”
He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.
When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.
Coming home. Too dangerous now.
See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.
He texts back quickly.
Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.
As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.
Always and forever, no matter how far apart.
———————
He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.
”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.
Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”
Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”
“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”
Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”
“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”
———————
He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.
It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.
The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.
“Alone?”
“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.
“I missed you so much, Liet.”
“Fuck I missed you so much too.”
They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.
Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.
“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”
“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”
Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.
It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.
When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.
“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.
“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.
They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.
“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”
“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”
“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”
Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.
“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”
“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”
A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”
A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”
“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”
Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.
She is ready now.
Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.
“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”
He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.
“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”
His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.
The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.
“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”
“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.
She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”
“Tell me more about him, baby.”
They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.
“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”
“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”
“8 hours.”
“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.
Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.
He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”
Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.
————————-
9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.
They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.
“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”
He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”
They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.
—————————
His phone beeps dead on 11am.
Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.
He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.
“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.
“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”
“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”
Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”
Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.
Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”
——————-
Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.
But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.
He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.
His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.
“Liet?”
She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.
“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.
————
The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.
“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”
“I can see that.”
“Shall I take the shot?”
“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.
Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”
—————
Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”
Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.
“In the next life, love,” she says
“Always and forever,” he replies.
She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.
———-
“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”
Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.
———-
Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.
The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.
Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.
Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!
Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3828 words
This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)
Shout Outs - They know ❤️
This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)
It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
Masterpost
Chapter 11
The early days of Ivar and Liet.
Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.
She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.
Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.
She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.
The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.
———————-
Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.
———————
Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.
—————
She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.
She knows any peace is temporary.
The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.
She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.
“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”
Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.
In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.
“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”
She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.
“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.
“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.
Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.
“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”
Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”
Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.
She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”
She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.
“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.
As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.
As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.
She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.
She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.
—————
Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.
Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.
Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.
He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.
Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.
She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.
She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.
She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.
She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.
He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.
Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.
After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.
She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.
The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.
Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.
He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.
“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.
“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.
When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.
“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”
Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.
She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.
“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”
“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”
“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”
“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”
“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.
“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.
“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.
“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.
He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.
When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.
——————————————-
Present day
Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”
Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.
Her whole life is back.
Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.
“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”
Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.
She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”
She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.
“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”
“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”
Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”
As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”
Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.
Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.
She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.
“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.
She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.
“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.
A path to happiness.
————-
She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.
Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.
She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.
The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?
Back to the man who did this to her?
“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”
Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.
“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”
“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.
—————————
She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.
Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.
Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!
Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3828 words
This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)
Shout Outs - They know ❤️
This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)
It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
Masterpost
Chapter 11
The early days of Ivar and Liet.
Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.
She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.
Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.
She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.
The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.
———————-
Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.
———————
Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.
—————
She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.
She knows any peace is temporary.
The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.
She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.
“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”
Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.
In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.
“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”
She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.
“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.
“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.
Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.
“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”
Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”
Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.
She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”
She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.
“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.
As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.
As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.
She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.
She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.
—————
Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.
Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.
Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.
He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.
Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.
She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.
She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.
She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.
She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.
He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.
Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.
After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.
She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.
The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.
Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.
He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.
“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.
“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.
When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.
“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”
Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.
She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.
“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”
“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”
“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”
“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”
“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.
“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.
“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.
“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.
He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.
When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.
——————————————-
Present day
Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”
Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.
Her whole life is back.
Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.
“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”
Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.
She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”
She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.
“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”
“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”
Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”
As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”
Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.
Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.
She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.
“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.
She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.
“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.
A path to happiness.
————-
She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.
Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.
She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.
The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?
Back to the man who did this to her?
“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”
Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.
“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”
“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.
—————————
She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3113
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Masterlist
Chapter 14 - Final Chapter
He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.
He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.
One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.
A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.
“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”
He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.
When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.
Coming home. Too dangerous now.
See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.
He texts back quickly.
Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.
As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.
Always and forever, no matter how far apart.
———————
He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.
”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.
Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”
Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”
“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”
Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”
“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”
———————
He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.
It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.
The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.
“Alone?”
“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.
“I missed you so much, Liet.”
“Fuck I missed you so much too.”
They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.
Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.
“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”
“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”
Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.
It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.
When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.
“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.
“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.
They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.
“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”
“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”
“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”
Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.
“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”
“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”
A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”
A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”
“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”
Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.
She is ready now.
Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.
“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”
He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.
“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”
His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.
The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.
“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”
“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.
She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”
“Tell me more about him, baby.”
They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.
“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”
“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”
“8 hours.”
“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.
Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.
He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”
Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.
————————-
9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.
They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.
“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”
He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”
They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.
—————————
His phone beeps dead on 11am.
Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.
He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.
“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.
“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”
“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”
Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”
Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.
Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”
——————-
Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.
But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.
He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.
His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.
“Liet?”
She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.
“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.
————
The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.
“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”
“I can see that.”
“Shall I take the shot?”
“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.
Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”
—————
Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”
Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.
“In the next life, love,” she says
“Always and forever,” he replies.
She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.
———-
“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”
Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.
———-
Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.
The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.
Warnings - violence between male and female, guns, angst, mentions of death.
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Masterlist
Chapter 13
The sun rises. It rises over the night of screaming, the violence, the tears and the blood and the bruises.
She has said all she can. Explained her old self as best she can to the man she loves. The man she spent a year betraying. The man who was nothing more than her mission in the beginning.
He’s worked out his disbelief, his anger, his despair and his sheer, unadulterated pain at her betrayal on her. She is battered and bloodied and still as sorry as she was when she learned her own truth.
Some part of him knows that she has allowed him to do this to her. That if she really wanted to she could have stopped him with one raised fist, an expertly directed kick, even one well placed word. But she has allowed him to take out everything she believes she deserves in her body. Between each blow telling him that she loves him and how sorry she is for the actions of the woman she was, the actions of a woman who didn’t know him yet. Who didn’t know his true nature and how he could be on the inside. The actions of a puppet used by the manipulative father she met in her deep grief.
He walks away from her, crumpled in a heap on the kitchen tiles, face swollen from his fists, cuts seeping her life blood.
She thinks about fleeing. She could. He’s been careful to not break any of her bones, she could walk to one of the cars now and leave the estate, make her way back to Lev. Her father. For what though? The only person on the whole planet she cares about is in a bathroom down the hall.
If she is to die here, so be it. She will die looking into the face of the man she betrayed.
The man she loves.
She hears his steps on the tiles and looks up to see him holding cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic.
“Up you get, Liet. I will clean you up,” he says as he holds his hands out to her. She takes his hand in her own and allows him to guide her to the squishy sofas she’s always loved.
He cleans her face, the cuts he has left and places an ice pack on her lip.
“My love. What am I going to do with you?” he asks softly as he wipes the blood from her elbows.
She swallows thickly as her heavy eyelids allow her eyes to meet his face for just a second. She knows he is surveying her face, looking at the damage he has rightly inflicted on her. She lets her tongue to slide along her bottom lip, gathering the fresh follow of crimson and loosening the dried flakes caked on already
“Kill me I would imagine.” She doesn’t let her eyes meet his now, she just takes the clean up kit from his hands and starts to wipe his bloodied knuckles clean. She cleans up the scratch marks in his forearms left behind from her nails and sets the kit on the coffee table. Only then does she allow herself to look at him, the look of regret, of sadness, of pure inevitability is over his feature.
“Don't feel guilty. It is no more than the old me deserves my love. I have told you everything I gave them. My love, please, please believe me. I fell in love with you before I lost my memory. I told them I wasn’t doing it any more, that I was in love with you and that’s why Lev did it.” She sees his face, shocked. “It was Lev, Ivar. He was behind the wheel. Before, he would ask me to meet him at the gym and I would give him anything I had gleaned. Until I admitted to myself I was in love with you. I gave them nothing of merit after, I promise. Just enough to keep them off my back, nothing that would hurt you or the family. Nothing of any substance for a long time before the accident. The day I told him I was finished with them was the day of my accident. He drove his car into me as I left the gym.”
“Lev? The man you were with? The man who trained you? The man at the gala whose hands were over you in front of everyone? The man who you fucked behind my back?”
“Ivar. Please.”
“Was it that man?” he screams at her.
“For fucks sake, if you want to boil it down to the bare goddamn bones then yes, it was that man! But if you would listen to me and accept my explanation it would be better!” She has ripped a healing cut on the side of her mouth open with her shouting. He dabs at it with a cotton ball and it stings.
“I did what I was trained to do. I had a normal life before my parents died and I found out about Oleg. He used me, manipulated me when I was deep in grief, used my vulnerability to gaslight me into doing what he wanted. Lev manipulated me as well. I’m not totally blame free, I knew what I was doing was wrong, obviously I did, but I justified it to myself that I was doing it out of love, that I was protecting my new family. It wasn’t until I met you, got to know you that I realised what real love looked like. I hate myself for what I did to you and your family. I deserve nothing less than what you will do to me, Ivar.”
“Have you fucked him since we got married? Have you fucked him since the accident? Don’t you fucking lie to me!” He grabs her shoulder, pushing his thumb hard on a wound.
She cries out in pain. “No! I promise. Not since way before the wedding. I made excuses.”
She watches as he covers his face, digging his fingers into his forehead, dragging them down his face leaving red lines on his skin. He looks at her, first with sadness on his face but it very quickly turns into rage, unadulterated anger at her again and he shifts towards her, his hand around her throat, his other hand raised behind his head in a fist, knuckles white. He hesitates when she makes a frightened squeak, seeing tears slip from her eyes again.
She scrunches her eyes shut, waiting for the impact, waiting for more split skin, the bones of her nose to be broken by his fists, but it doesn’t come, neither does oxygen into her body as he squeezes her throat tighter. Her eyes open to find his brimmed with tears and she knows this is the end. She is looking into the eyes of her murderer, the person who will send her to hell, even with this realisation she can’t help but try and smile at him, try to let him know that she understands his actions, that she doesn’t blame him.
She chokes out as best she can with his hands restricting her. “Sorry.. love you.” Her vision darkens as the lack of oxygen starts to shut her down, her heart starts to slow, a fraction but she can feel it. She knows, mercifully, she will be unconscious before death takes her. She feels the pressure in her eyeballs, and with that pressure comes a change in Ivar’s face, a fear, a realisation that removes his hands from her throat and allows sweet, sweet breath back into her windpipe, inflating her lungs, allowing oxygen to flow into her bloodstream, travelling to her heart, her brain, causing her to cough and suck in as many breaths as she can. She falls forward when his hands leave her, only to feel them on her back, rubbing circles gently.
“Baby, why did you have to do this?! I love you so much and now I’m without a choice! Ragnar will never allow you to…. It's your fault some of our best men, our allies, are dead. Why so many of our deals went south. Oh god, Liet! The family will make you suffer! I can’t stop that.” The next noise that leaves him is so devastating that she sobs. He screams up at the ceiling, anger, frustration, all the betrayal and the inevitability of his own impending grief spill out of him, travelling throughout the house like a poisonous gas, sent to kill them both.
She crawls to him, leaving bloody marks all over their beautiful sofa, until she is close enough to pull his head to her chest, feeling his tear soak into her skin, his pain wash over her, pulling her under, the guilt of her own betrayal rising bile in her throat.
“I was a different person, not me. Not your Liet, I can’t explain it any better than I have. I stopped betraying you as soon as I admitted to myself how I felt about you. When I felt safe away from them.They threatened to kill you in front of me then torture me to death if I didn’t do it. You are the only man I’ve ever loved, I didn’t know the meaning of it until I met you. I’ve loved you with my whole heart and soul, before and after the accident. I know I won’t survive this, Ivar. I know that. You need to understand that I have come to terms with it. When I found out who I was, what I did when I was Etta, my absolute betrayal of you, my soul died anyway. I’ve been empty ever since, only surviving because of all that you give me, like a disgusting parasite.”
No sooner do the words leave her mouth then he claps his hands over it. “Never, ever speak about yourself in such a manner to me. You are no parasite, you are the my soulmate, my one and only. Forever. I need to speak to my Father.”
He lessens the grip on her mouth. “I have a book that you can give him. It has every detail I ever have over to my father. Dates, people. It’s in Russian but I have translated it. The phone I used will support the dates. They are hidden behind the black, studded Louboutins, the ones with the red soles. Show him everything.”
He leaves her on the couch, she slumps back onto the pillows allowing a moment's rest as he searches for her evidence. When he comes back with it in his hand he stares at her for a long time. “Liet, I am going to show my father this. Do I need to secure you to something? Handcuff you? Get someone to watch you? I am asking you if you will run.”
She sighs deeply and starts to cry. “I won’t run. I’ve nowhere to run. You are all that matters in my life. If I’m not with you I might as well be dead anyway.”
He rushes to her, he throws himself in her, forcing his arms behind her shoulder and neck and pulls her tight to him. She can feel him breathing her in, trying to commit her smell to memory, in case this will be the last time. He untangles himself as his tears drop onto her skin like summer rainfall, running down her skin, leaving their mark on her. He doesn’t meet her eyes as he turns from her to leave. She makes no fuss.
As the front door slams she rises from the sofa, pushes the exterior lights on and walks to the pool. It’s cold out, but the vapour rising off the pool, being blown into the atmosphere by the cool northwest wind invites her. She strips naked and walks into the pool by the sloping steps. She sits, submerged to her shoulders, watching the illuminated water turn pink from the blood seeping from her wounds, but she cares not. The warm water envelops her, soothing her like the baths her mother ran for her as a child. She shakes the memory of the times her and Lev spent in the tub at her fathers estate, him cleaning wounds he inflicted on her during her training. This is different. The wounds she has now are deserved and she should absolutely feel the sting of chlorine in each and everyone one of them.
Her legs float in front and lies flat, treading water, looking up at the clear, star strewn sky. Like a black canopy dotted with holes.
Her last night on this earth.
Julietta feels no fear at all, only a deep anguish at forcing her husband's hand into killing her. Forcing her wonderful Ivar to use his nature against her.
She knows it will be the death of him eventually and it is this that makes her scream into the black of the night, her voice scaring the birds from the trees, reaching out into the universe, an agony heard by whatever dwells above and beyond.
“Liet,” Ivar’s voice interrupts her. She’s been in the pool for a long time without realising, her hands and feet are crinkly and the whole pool has a pink hue from her wounds. “Come out, love.” As she does as he says he wraps her in a towel and takes her to bed.
“Father has the information. No decision will be made tonight. We can rest easy.” He dries her off and tucks her into their bed before taking off his clothes and joining her. “I will clean you up properly tomorrow. I’ve got strong painkillers should you need them. Sleep now.”
She is too exhausted to ask any questions, she simply moves into his body, tucking herself into him and falls asleep when his arms pull her closer.
——————————————
He wakes in the morning to her hands over him, all perfect in his head before the memories start and the dead heart that only beats for her drops into his stomach. He remembers his father's words.
“She is your responsibility, Ivar. She is yours to deal with. I don’t need to tell you what needs to be done. You are shrewd enough to have known the very moment she disclosed herself to you. How you choose to do it is yours and yours alone.”
Ivar doesn’t even try to reason. There is no reasoning, he knows the only outcome. He says nothing about how grateful he is his father is allowing it to be him and not going full tilt, sending in mercenaries to deal with it. As Ivar turns to leave, Ragnar's voice stops him.
“She loves you, Ivar, but she cannot be trusted. Unlimited time is not available to you. Get it done. Keep me informed. No one will bother you in the estate. Got it?” Ivar nods tightly and heads back to her
He sleeps surprisingly well, her scent breaking through the swimming pool smell on her skin, soothing him. When he wakes fully she is over him, straddling his lap. He runs his hands over her perfect body, a body covered in old scars and wounds yet to mature into scars. She will always be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even battered and bruised. He watches tears fall from her eyes so he grabs at her, pulling her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her back, rubbing soothingly, until her sobs subside.
“We are going to go on holiday, you and I. We will go away for a week and allow ourselves to pretend none of this happened. Just be us again, carefree like in Sardinia. One week.”
She sits up and a smile graces her face. “One week.”
His face turns very stern all of sudden. “Julietta, do not use this opportunity to try and run, promise me baby? If you love me like you say you do…”
“I promise, Ivar. I promise.”
—————————————————
He manages to get them both off the estate and to the airfield where the private jet he chartered is waiting before he calls his father.
“Ivar.” Ragnar's voice is full of irritation.
“Father. One week. I will be home in one week. Alone.”
“Son, there will be severe consequences if this is your veiled attempt at setting her free. If she manages to get away I will not be pleased and I will send a force out to get her. Do not let her play you again.”
“Father. She loves me, this whole time hasn’t been her playing me. She loves me. I need this time with her. Once she is gone I will never be the same again. She won’t try to escape. One week with my wife then I will come home alone.”
Ragnar sighs audibly. “Okay. Ivar? When this is all done I will help you get through it. Okay son?”
——————————
Six days spent in paradise together, like honeymooners. They talk for hours, she tells him every detail of herself, how she met Oleg, Lev, her training. She tells him how she started to fall for him in Sardinia and why she had to turn cold, it was to save them both from Lev.
They both do a stellar job of ignoring the impending seventh day, but it comes quickly regardless.
She hears the safety of the gun click behind her, close to her head. She closes her eyes, and tucks some hair behind her ears.
Here it is then.
The end.
She had come to terms with it until two days ago and now she can’t allow it to happen. She needs to disarm him quickly, minimal fuss.
“Liet. Turn around.”
The click of the gun was a fraction to her right so she knows that’s the way to go. She catches him off guard as she leans forward quickly, spins on her right foot towards him landing her elbow into his ribs and grabbing his outstretched arm with the gun in it with her left hand. The gun goes off and a bullet ricochets into the rafters before she manages to jut the heel of her hand up onto his nose, taking advantage of his loss of balance she manages to get the gun. She stands, legs apart with the gun pointed at his head now.
Through the pain in his nose, through the tears caused by her punch he registers what he is seeing.
“I’m sorry, Ivar. I hate to see you in pain, sorry about your nose love.”
Ivar let’s out a huff of laughter. “It’s okay baby, I get it. You are so quick, I didn’t have any idea you were going to do that. Very impressive.”
“Thanks, baby! I thought I was rusty but it went quite smoothly.” She flashes him a smile of pride.
“So, are you going to kill me, Julietta?” He tilts his head to the side taking in her facial expression and he sees the tears form in her eyes.
“I could never do that to you, my love.”
“Ok. So what’s the plan? You are going to knock me out, escape? Even though you swore to me you wouldn’t?”
She nods her head slowly and regretful, “That’s the plan, baby. I’m going to have to break one of your legs so you can’t alert anyone and I’m so sorry about that love. I will make it clean so it heals quickly and neatly. I will knock you out first though.” She watches his hand go for his pocket. “No point, love. I took your phone earlier.” She says sadly. “Go and sit in that chair.” She points to one of the kitchen chairs and as he moves slowly, the gun in her hand still trained on him, she reaches into the sofa cushions and pulls out a length of rope.
He looks at it then back to her, as he sits heavily. He nods his head in realisation, “So you were always planning on betraying me again.”
“Oh, Ivar,” her eyes full with tears, “I wasn’t going to. I was going to disarm you and shoot myself to save you from having to do it, but something changed and now I need to escape. I hate it, I hate having to do this and hurt you again, but this is bigger than us now, I am doing this for both of us. One day you will understand.” Her eyes are pleading with him and he crosses his arms behind the chair letting her tie him to it. She weaves it through his legs and does it in a complicated knot that tightens the more it’s pulled on. “Try not to struggle too much, the rope will tighten if you do.” He tests it and she’s right. “Thanks for letting me do that with no fuss, love.”
She walks around in front of him and settles on her knees, arms resting across his legs. “I hate this. I’m so fucking angry at the way we met! I wish we were just two normal people who fell in love and can live happily ever after but that just isn’t in the cards for us. Neither of our fathers would allow me to live, no matter how much we both want it. It’s just so fucking unfair.
Ivar tips his head down to survey her face. It’s Liet, not Etta. She is being honest with him and he softens immediately. “It is unfair. We would have grown old together, love. But it is what it is. Come up here and give me a kiss.” She knows she’s done the knots well, there is no way he can get loose, so she does what he asks, she rises up and kisses him like it’s the last time.
Because it is the last time.
When they break apart they are both crying, she wipes his tears and then her own.
“So,” Ivar shakes his head a little, back to work mode, “the plan is you are going to knock me out, break my leg, escape somehow and then what? Where will you go?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he sees her raised eyebrows and a small chuckle leaves him. “Worth a try, hey love! You know we won’t stop until we find you, you know that baby?”
“I know. Ivar, do me a favour when you get home. Kill Lev for me. Make it hurt.” Waiting for his answer she strokes his face. “Make him hurt like he hurt me.”
“Done.”
“Okay. I don’t think there’s anything we can say. This is it I suppose. I love you. I will always love you. I will always be sorry and I will love you until my dying breath. I will find you in the next life, I promise you..” her voice cracks and she stands up in front of him. “Always have been the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.” She smiles.
“I love you, Liet. Always have and I always will. Until we meet again.” A thought occurs to him. “What changed, you said something changed. What?”
She doesn’t realise it but her hand flies to her stomach and when she sees the realisation in his face she grabs the gun and smashes the butt if it into his temple and his world goes black. She can only hope he doesn’t remember her unconscious movement when he wakes up.
Warnings - Gun and knife violence, death, language, alcohol use.
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count-
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Masterlist
Chapter 12
“Baby? Where are you?” Ivar bellows as he walks through the door. He has had an amazing day business wise. Legitimate deals made, lots of money, lots of real estate acquired, a great day for The Lothbroks and he is in the best mood he’s been in for a long while.
“I’m in the studio.”
He hurries to her. “Baby, get your fine ass ready, we are going out tonight!” He nudges her off her stool and smacks her ass lightly.
“Going out? Up to the main house?” The familiar flutter of dread in her stomach starts.
“Nope. I’m taking you out for a meal and then we are meeting the brothers and wives after to go dancing. Well, you will be dancing, I will be watching you like a perv on the sidelines. We had a very productive work day and we are all going out to celebrate.”
“You are joking.” But she can see from his face he isn’t joking at all. She squeals in delight at the prospect of a date, some time away from the house, just the two of them and then dancing after, she squeals again. “What shall I wear?”
“The sexiest thing you own. The more skin the better,” he grabs her face and kisses her roughly. “Hang on,” he checks his watch, “yep, we’ve got time. Get naked, I want to fuck you before we go out.”
————————
Two hours later they are sitting in a dimly lit Italian restaurant enjoying pasta, wine and the conversation, no security guards invading their privacy, Ivar instructed them to stay outside the restaurant.
Ivar can’t keep his hands off of her in her strappy, floaty, rose gold, silk dress that clings to her exactly where it should.
“I’ve got to stop eating, I’m going to pop!” she sits back giving her stomach a pat. “Any more food and I won’t be up for dancing later.”
“Oh you better dance for me, I want to see that dress on the dance floor.”
He carries on eating and she sits back watching her husband with pride. He really is beautiful to look at and she is so happy to be on his arm. The niggling thoughts threatening to drag her happiness down are pushed away quickly. Locked in the depths where they belong. Compartmentalised expertly.
She sees his eyes flit to the door and then do a double take, straightening his spine, hand disappearing under the table. As his face turns to stone her stomach drops. She doesn’t look round. She can hear a group of men, seven she thinks, enter the restaurant and sit down, demanding menus and drinks. In Russian.
Ivar observes them, getting his phone out and texting quickly.
She listens to the men, she doesn’t recognise any of the voices as anyone from her past, but she is loath to look around and check, just in case. Then their conversation changes
“Security for who? Fucking useless. Even more useless now!” The whole party erupts in laughter.
Her stomach drops to her shoes but she needs to keep herself in check.
“Are you ok, Ivar? Who did you text.”
“No one, love, nothing to worry about.” But as she watches the reply come up on his screen and she can see the absolute dissatisfaction with the words he read, his jaw ticking in annoyance.
Then she hears it.
“Look over there. Is that a Lothbrok? Is that the cripple one? Fuck, was it his security?” The first one says.
“Jesus, it is him!” The second voice offers.
The third one confirms it. “That is definitely him. Look. It is him. No mistake. Well, well…”
She breathes in deeply through her nose. They are in trouble. “Ivar. Who can get here faster? Brothers or security?
“What? Why?” He glances past her and sees them staring at him. “Hvitserk is the closest. Security isn't answering.”
“They won’t answer. Call your brother. Do it, Ivar.”
He wastes no time and Hvitserk says he is five minutes away.
“Julietta?” Ivar questions her, eyebrows drawn close. “What is it?”
She glances over her shoulder and weighs them up in less than four seconds before turning back to Ivar.
They all have weapons, three are a real threat judging by their size and visible scarring. Two are older and likely the easiest to take out and two are unknown entities. The scariest of the group, the ones to be taken down first. She couldn’t make out which of them is the leader. She knows they aren’t Olegs men. There was no hint of recognition in their faces when they looked at hers.
“Look at the whore he is with. What I would do to her body…” she hears another say. She rolls her shoulders back, loosening the muscles subtlety. The word whore always makes her blood boil. If it comes to it she will kill that one first.
“We need to get out of here, Ivar. Let’s leave, I have a bad feeling.” First thing in any situation like this one, try and leave with no confrontation.
He peers around her, weighing up the men and she reads his face like a book. Ego. Pure, unadulterated ego and surety he can take them, but as he looks back at her she sees his face change as it dawns on him the situation he is in. In his mind his vulnerable wife is with him, totally helpless. If only she could tell him that she could take out all these men and not even break a sweat. But that is not possible.
He stands up first, doing up his suit button, head tipped arrogantly watching the group, as if daring them to challenge him. When he holds his hand out she sees the faintest hint of a tremble in it and when she puts her hand in he realises it’s fear for her, because he doesn’t know her capabilities.
They only get a few feet from their table before two of the men walk to them and Ivar pulls her behind him.
“You are Ivar Lothbrok?” One asks in English and casually opens his jacket to reveal his gun.
Ivar’s eyes travel to it and back to the giant man in front of him, not changing his expression at all. He turns his face ever so slightly to the side, eyes remain on the men in front of him and he addresses her. “My love, go and sit back down at the table in the corner. This won’t take long.”
The struggle inside of her is real, a waging war of being Liet but knowing it’s Etta who is needed here, to fight at the side of her husband. Luckily, at that moment Hvitserk strides in and takes his place at his brother's side.
“Evening Brother, it seems I have impeccable timing.”
Ivar smirks before addressing Liet again. “Sit down over there, love.” She takes a step into him letting the two knives she discreetly picked up off the tables slip from behind her forearm and tucks them both into the waistband of the back of his trousers. His head swivels to her, questioning her.
She kisses his cheek before whispering into his ear. “Two knives, love. Smallest guy first. He’s the threat.”
He frowns at her but she just nods at him, confirming his understanding and walks slowly to sit down, as instructed.
His attention turns back to the group. “I am Ivar Lothbrok. You are?”
The man laughs. “I am the man responsible for your death.”
Ivar and Hvitserk look at each other and start laughing. “What are you a Bond villain? Responsible for my death,” Ivar mocks mercilessly. “You want to make a name for yourself? We all put our guns over there..” he points to the far corner of the room, “..and we settle this with fists. Two against seven. You all look like you eat your spinach, shouldn’t be too hard now should it? My wife is here, I do not want bullets flying around in the presence of my woman.”
He takes his gun out first, bends down slowly and slides it across the floor to the other side of the room. They all look at each other, rattled by Ivar’s actions. A silent agreement is arrived at and they all do the same.
She takes notes of all the guns. She knows which she will go for if needs be.
Hvitserk does the same.
“Excellent. Now we fight like men.”
Whilst they are distracted Hvitserk punches the main one, breaking his nose and Ivar does the same to the smaller man.
In the commotion she slips around the fight and picks up two of the guns, kicking the others further away.
She looks back in time to see Ivar throw Hvitserk one of the knives she stashed on him and they both drive the blades into the flesh of two of the men. One of them gets the drop on Hvitserk who is knocked unconscious. When Ivar sees Hvitserk he screams at them, blood dripping from his face. Not his own blood.
A part of her she usually keeps locked away is released as she watches her fearless husband in action. She’s never seen him fight, never seen him violent. Gods the look on his face makes her want to rip his clothes off and fuck him here and now. Her senses return as she sees five of them start to surround him, circling him like sharks sniffing out blood in the water.
As Julietta watches Ivar screaming at them to come at him she knows she has no choice. There is no outcome in this that will end in anything other than the death of her beloved.
She has to expose her secret now or Ivar dies right in front of her eyes. She knows that showing who she really is, was, is signing her own death warrant but it’s that or she watches the love of her life get beaten to death.
No contest.
“Stop!” She screams in Russian. “Enough!”
The use of Russian stops all their feet and all heads in the room fly to her.
She straightens up, shoulder back, head lifted in defiance.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks in English, chin raised haughtily and she glides across the floor to stand coming to stop between Ivar and the men.
This is Etta.
“Julietta? Get behind me. What the fuck are you doing?” Ivar tries to grab her arm but she pulls away gently, eyes still on the men. With her hand behind her back she points to her leg showing Ivar her hitched up dress, showing him the two guns tucked into two leather garter belts. As she shifts her other hand discreetly she shows him a sharp knife tucked behind her arm, the hilt sitting in her hand, all completely concealed from the men.
The air behind her moves as Ivar steps towards her, she keeps her eyes on the men.
“Liet, what is happening?” He whispers.
She ignores him and asks them again, this time in Russian. “I asked you if you know who I am? I am the daughter of Oleg and this is not a fight you want. You are not my fathers men, so who do you work for? I suggest you tell me so I know who to report your deaths to.”
They look back and forth between each other, faces painted with ridiculous confusion.
“Answer me. I asked you a simple question. Are you all to stupid to reply?” She walks slowly, side stepping along the line of men in front of her. Her gaze dragging up and down the men. “Do I need to ask you in English? You don’t understand the mother tongue?” She mocks them, walking slowly in front of them.
Their eyes follow her, mouths agape like the idiots they are.
Julietta stops in front of one of them. “You. Answer me immediately.”
The man fumbles for words. “You are not Olegs daughter. Lying bitch. And you are here with him,” gesturing to Ivar, “the son of Olegs' sworn enemy? Bullshit.”
“Ah so that is your purpose, you have decided to make a name for yourselves but trying to kill my husband and my brother in law because they are my fathers enemies?” She tuts at them, scolding them like children as she glances over at Hvitserk, his chest is moving. Alive.
One moves slightly and she quickly lets the knife slip into her hand and points it at the man. “Uh.” She says quickly. “Do not move to me. That is not a very smart move, not that I expect smart moves from people like you. You want to make names for yourself tonight? My father doesn’t want them dead, you morons,” she spits the words dismissively.
They all look at each other in confusion until one bravely pipes up. “I’m to believe you are Russian mafia royalty? That you are married to him?! You look like nothing more than a whore the disgusting cripple has to pay to be with him.”
She swings her head towards the man speaking, again calling her a whore. She wants nothing more than to press her thumbs into the man’s eyeballs and hear him scream but she gathers her patience and rolls her eyes tutting again. “Well that is not very polite is it? Now, me and my husband are going to walk out of here and you will sit your stupid asses down and be grateful you are getting out with your lives. I love to hurt men like you and will kill if needs be. Do not give me any reason to take it that far. Do not underestimate me.”
She is waiting for their new leader to step up so she knows who to take out first.
“Liet?” Ivar’s confused voice comes from behind her. “Russian?”
“Ivar, my love, I will explain everything. Just not right now.” She looks slowly at him over shoulder. “Be ready baby,” she whispers, eyes flitting down, letting him know to grab the guns stashed on her.
“You are not going anywhere,” one shouts at her in English.
He’s the new leader then.
She replies in English. “It is a shame you have chosen this path. I did not wish to get blood on my pretty gown this evening. And my husband didn’t even get to finish his meal. Terribly inconsiderate of you all,” she drawls sarcastically.
She throws the knife at his throat and it lands exactly where she means it to, straight through his larynx, at the same time she feels Ivar take both guns. She spins to the left and blocks a punch from one, landing a headbutt into his nose, breaking it. She can hear gunshots from behind her and the thud of two falling bodies.
She breaks the leg of the last man standing before her and as he drops to his knees she gets behind him, holding his neck in the crook of her elbow.
“STOP!!” She screams in Russian as she sees an enemy with his gun at the temple of Hvitserk, still unconscious on the floor. She knows Ivar is safe, only one other left and Ivar’s gun is trained on the enemy, whose hands are up in surrender.
Everyone halts.
She addresses the man with the gun on her Hvitserk. “Put it down or your brother gets his neck snapped right here, right now.” The familial genes are evident in their bone structure. She thinks she said it in Russian but Ivar’s eyes flicking from her to his brother know she spoke English by mistake. “Your English is good?” He nods once. “I play no games here. Your brother will die if my husbands brother does. Except your brother will know it, he will feel his heart slow and he will feel his neck snap. Take your gun away from my brother's head and yours will live.” Julietta threatens with absolute resolve.
He hesitates for long enough that she tightens her grip on the neck of the man on his knees, feeling the heat from the trapped blood in his face. His brother debates for less than five seconds before he holds both hands up, the gun rolling on his trigger finger.
She only has to look at her husband to exchange thoughts with no words. She grabs the side of her captives head and wrenches it around until the crunch of bone and sinew fills the air and as she drops the enemy’s lifeless body to the floor Ivar puts bullets in the remaining two enemy brains.
She looks up quickly to find Ivar’s gun pointing straight at her forehead.
“Don’t! Please don’t, Ivar. I can explain! I promise!” Her hands are raised in surrender.
“Who the fuck are you?” his eyes are wild with confusion.
Her face crumbles. “I’m your wife.”
“You are not my wife. Tell me who you are right now or I swear to god, Liet, I will shoot you between the eyes.”
“Please don’t, Ivar. I am your wife. I… I… My father is Oleg.”
Note - I think it’s been almost a year since I updated this fic. I’ve decided to post the rest of the fic, despite not being super happy with chapter 11. I wrote the rest of the chapters ages ago but got stuck on chapter 11 so I’ve decided to just Chuck it out here.
Sorry it’s taken me so long, hope those who enjoyed this story before will enjoy the end ❤️ thanks all. This chapter is un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine and I’m sure there will be lots!
Warnings - mentions of violence make against female and female against make, language, weapons, angst
Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?
Word Count - 3828 words
This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)
Shout Outs - They know ❤️
This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)
It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG..... and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!
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Masterpost
Chapter 11
The early days of Ivar and Liet.
Lev insists on an apartment first, keeping some distance and to set up a place he can still see her in. She assumed Ivar would be annoyed but he says it’s a good first step, she doesn’t know for certain but she guesses that The Lothbroks don’t want a stranger in their midst, she will have to be vetted before being allowed into their inner sanctum.
She stays in the apartment for a few months, building a life, in her “new city”, a routine with Ivar visiting. Lev turns up more often than she wants, an invasive reminder that it's all lies and any potential peace found with Ivar is bullshit.
Lev never gets ugly with her again, but her memory is long and she never forgets the violence he exhibited, quashing all feelings she ever had for him.
She was supposed to lead a double life, reporting to her family, faking the relationship with Ivar, in reality, it’s a triple life now, faking to Lev, faking to Ivar despite her feelings of real love for him and reporting back despite her feelings. God, what an absolute mess she’s made. Etta has no choice but to carry on as normal with Lev when she sees him, fucking him as if he’s her guy when her whole being is consumed by her feelings for Ivar.
The ripping of her soul, the lies, the deceit, the acting, almost sends her into an early grave, until Ivar asks her to move onto the estate.
———————-
Word comes from Ivar’s Father. The Lothbrok family have accepted her. Ragnar has dug into her past thoroughly.
———————
Her Father knew this would happen and hired the right people to fabricate her former life, leaving as much of her true life as possible. Dead parents, teacher (at a different school, one where Olegs family had reach with, who he was able to pay off if asked about Julietta). The Lothbroks came back with nothing but a squeaky clean record of her. Nothing about her time spent with her father, nothing about her training or the other ‘missions’ she’d been sent on. Just a wholesome school teacher with friends and a tragic past.
—————
She can see a respite, a pause of her turmoil if she is away from Lev, away from the pressure he is putting on her, the pressure her father is putting on her through Lev. She can breathe easily once she gets there. For a minute.
She knows any peace is temporary.
The day before she is due to move, Lev catches her outside her apartment as she is running errands.
She feels him behind her, an insistent grip on her arm.
“Keep walking, Love. Who knows if we are being followed. Walk to the market.”
Julietta has no choice but to do as he says.
In the market he catches her arm harshly and turns her toward a stand.
“Try on the sunglasses,” he instructs her harshly, so she does. She catches his eye in a mirror, he is standing close to her. “Tomorrow we will be separated, God knows for how long. You know what needs to be done, Etta?”
She nods and picks another pair of glasses up, slipping them on her face.
“I’ve watched you with him, in this very market,” Lev’s voice is saccharine sweet, she’s heard it before and the blood runs cold through her veins. The intrusion into the relationship she thought she’d developed in private was being watched. Of course it was. Stupid girl.
“I’ve seen him kiss you, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Etta.” Etta watches as his pupils constrict in the mirror as his grip tightens on her flesh, sure to leave marks she will have to explain away.
Etta starts to shake her head and pulls away carefully, smiling playfully as she starts to protest but his words stop her.
“My eyes don’t lie. I’ve seen you. Do you not remember my words? If you fall for him I will kill you both. You are mine,” his finger back on her arm, holding so hard she has to bite her lip to stop from yelping. “Mine,” he growls in her ear. “I hope for both your sakes you are a better actress than I give you credit for, Etta.”
Lev leans into her, his nose in her hair and he inhales deeply, eyes never leaving her face for a second. “I would hate to murder you, my love.”
Through the ice in her veins she knows what she must do. A calmness settles over her, knowing her only way out of this encounter is to placate the man she once loved.
She removes the sunglasses and her eyes catch his in the mirror. She leans back into Lev, her upper back pressing against his chest and she pushes her ass into his crotch. Her voice is thick with sweetness when she addresses him. “Baby, I’m the best actress you’ve ever met. You think I have feelings for him? I’m repulsed by him. Every time he touches me it makes me want to vomit. I would kill him and his whole fucking family in a heartbeat to be back with you, my love.”
She sees Lev’s eyes change from hatred to relief and she knows he is putty in her hands again.
“I’m doing this for the family. For you. Just as you told me to. It’s all for you, a means to an end, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow, who knows when I will next get to see you. There's an alley up to the left. Meet me there in two minutes. I need you one more time before I go.” She turns in her heels and heads for the alley.
As she turns left she claps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle to cry and tears in the minutes she has before he joins her. She takes in some steadying breathes and prepares herself to allow Lev to touch her, fuck her, to betray Ivar with the man that sold her out like she was nothing. A mere commodity.
As she watches Lev enter the alley her skin starts to crawl, but she pushes the feeling away.
She’s let her guard slip with Ivar, she needs to pull herself back again, with more success this time. She curses inwardly at not realising she is being watched the whole time, of course she is, she’s her family's most valuable asset.
She can’t be the reason Ivar dies. She will be the best actress ever. To save herself. To save Ivar.
—————
Julietta is sure that Ivar feels the change in her, in the way she is with him over the next few weeks. Sometimes she can see her detachment break his heart and she wants nothing more than to open herself up again, allow him into her heart fully, but the memory of Lev’s words stops her.
Sometimes she feels herself allowing the feelings to creep back in. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them, living together, a normal life. Somedays, when she’s watching him move around their home, on the phone, smiling at her, she forgets what this all is. Fake. An assignment. Not for long, but long enough for it to crush her heart when she remembers.
Some days she is so angry. Furious at herself for letting her life come to this. Rage filled at her father for making her do this. Devastated at the circumstances that have led her life to this point. Angry that she is in love with a man completely out of her reach, despite being married to him. It’s on these days can hear herself say the most disgusting things, things about his wheelchair, his disability that make her so ashamed of herself she knows that when her time comes they will be the reason she will be dragged straight to the depths of Hell.
He shows her nothing but endless patience. She isn’t sure if that is because he is so in love with her or because she drops enough breadcrumbs of love and affection to keep him hopeful that she will return to the woman he met in Sardinia. Hope. It can hold people prisoner, and that’s what she feels she is doing to him. Keeping him shackled to a memory of the woman she wishes she could be with him, her old self.
Julietta can’t even bare to look at him when they have sex, can’t bare the way his eyes feel on her, like they are going to pull a confession out of her at any moment so she manipulates him again into being intimate in a way she can stomach, a way she can live with herself.
She manages to find an outlet in the form of a diary, written in code. She pours every thought, every feeling, every second of happiness into it so she doesn’t allow it to spill out into their actual lives. So she doesn’t compromise them. If she writes it down the weight of her feelings and the fear that accompany them is lifted slightly.
She’s allowed to the main house after the checks come back clean, before that she had barely any access to it at all which meant she didn’t have much to pass on to Lev when she saw him at the flat. Information is freely available to her now, access to staff, their gossiping, access to Ragnar’s study, although she is careful here until she is sure there are no cameras inside this space. There aren’t, probably so he doesn’t incriminate himself should the time ever come. It does mean she can access paperwork left around, listen in on conversations he has in there. She has yet to plant the listening devices given to her and try to access Ragnar's computer, making up excuses to Lev when pushed on the subject, only handing over as little as she can get away with.
She despises herself every time she does it, hearing the consequences of her actions spoken about by the Lothbroks, people killed, families ripped apart, collateral damage.
She tries to redress the balance of her disgusting deceit as often as she can. Julietta knows one of her strengths is the ability to read people as if they are telling her their secrets openly. Body language, the slightest flick of an eye, the quick exchange of notes between Ragnar's staff is stored in her head. Most of it is innocent, the occasional affair between staffers, a few people stealing from the kitchens, but any hint of something that could hurt any of the family she tells Ivar about, discreetly, so as not to give herself away, hints at things she’s noticed. Ivar is astute enough to read into it the droplets of information she gives him and neutralises the threat.
He can’t see I’m his biggest threat Julietta thinks sadly.
Over time Julietta becomes more involved with all the family members and she starts to enjoy their company, they treat her like one of their own, not knowing she is a snake in the nest. It’s hard enough betraying Ivar without the extra guilt so she stays detached, warm enough that she isn’t alienated but she keeps them at arm's length. For her own sanity.
After months of being on the estate with her love her brains tricks her into thinking she has some solace from her real life. She stops passing along as much information as she can get away with, only given intel she knows will have minimal impact on her husband and his family. She makes excuses to not have to meet up with Lev, passing along the information via a notebook hidden in her flat, deliberately ignoring Lev's outrage at her evasion, which is clear from the messages left in the hiding spot in her apartment.
She continues this way until a clear message is received. One of the Lothbrok security guards is found outside the estate with the letter E carved into his forehead; she knows she has to face her life outside the walls. For Lev to get so close to the estate, to risk the whole assignment to get her attention she knows she has no choice but to meet up with him.
The thought fills her with a paralysing fear, she can’t do this anymore. The double life has to stop and Julietta knows which of her two lives she wants.
Julietta goes to her apartment, calls Lev from the phone stashed in the space in the walls and arranges to meet him at the gym. She changes into her workout clothes and heads there with a racing heart. She went to the toilets at the back of the gym, where Lev has made sure that no security cameras reach.
He’s waiting for her and pins her to the wall before they mutter a world to each other. He pulls her shorts down roughly and his fingers are inside her before she knows what’s happening.
“Lev, no, we need to talk. Stop,” she tells him in Russian, grabbing his wrist to push him out of her, pulling up her shorts.
“Etta, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you. Do they know? Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” His mouth is all over her, her neck, her chest, making her skin crawl.
When he starts to kiss her mouth she twists her head away, and her head falls against the wall. It’s now or never.
“I'm not doing this anymore. I’m done. I'm going to be a proper wife to him. I love him, Lev. We are finished here.”
Lev's face pulls into a scowl before he bursts out laughing. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t love him. You are mine!” He grabs her face, bruising it with his fingers. “You can’t just stop, you will never be done!” His face is searching hers, trying to find a hint of a joke.
She smacks his hand away “Don't ever touch me again, Lev. I am done with all of you. I never wanted any of this. My father won’t kill me for falling in love. Ivar, he’s not like any of you, not with me, he's gentle and he loves me.” Etta’s chin is raised in defiance.
“I fucking love you!” Lev replies with desperation in his tone. “I’ve loved you for years. You can’t be in love with him, he’s the fucking enemy, Etta.”
“Is he?” she shouts at him. “I’m starting to think we are. Father is only doing this for territory, not for revenge or anything noble!”
“Etta, my love. You are smarter than this…” Lev’s tone is one she recognises. A calm, friendly tone which is uses at his most dangerous. “Think about this my love. Come to your senses and I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said today. I love you.”
“Oh Lev, you’ve always been about your career, Fucking the bosses daughter was a strategic move for you. I know you would never choose me over the family.”
“You think Ivar would?” Lev screams and punches the wall next to Etta’s head. “You stupid fucking bitch. You are fucking dead. What did I tell you before? Do you remember? If you fell in love with him I would kill you both.” His hand is back on her jaw, pressing her skull against the hard wall behind her. “Etta. Tell me he hasn’t tasted you.” Levs face screws into pure hatred.
“I remember. I don’t care. I only care about him.” Her breaths are shallow with fear now. She’s weighed up all her options in the small space they are in. She knows all of Lev's moves and if she’s quick enough she can get the better of him. Hopefully.
“My rule, Etta,” Lev says through gritted teeth. “Did you let him taste you?” His eyes flit to her mouth.“You treacherous fucking whore!” He grabs her around the throat and she reaches into the underside of her sports bra pulling out her mini switchblade, flicking it open expertly and pushes it into his groin.
“Femoral artery, Lev. You taught me that. Let go of me or I’ll do it. You’ll bleed out in a minute or so. I’m a good actress, remember? I’ll say you attacked me and I will be believed. Never dare to call me a whore again.” She pushes the tip of her knife into his skin.
He glances down and removes his hands from her throat. “Dead woman. You are fucking dead, Etta” He points in her face and slams the restroom door open so hard it closes again she locks it quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth, hyperventilating in fear. She spends a few minutes calming down and listening for any sign of him. Silence remains and she is sure she is safe enough to leave the gym.
When she steps outside she hears screams from her right and as she spins towards the noise she sees Lev driving straight at her before everything goes black.
——————————————-
Present day
Consciousness tugs at her as does Ivar’s voice, which is getting louder with every syllable. Julietta wakes on the floor of their closet, Ivar cradling her head. “Liet? Baby, thank god! Are you okay?”
Was it all a dream? A nightmare? She knows it isn’t.
Her whole life is back.
Julietta remembers everything and she starts to sob.
“Julietta, what is it? More memories?”
Gods knows she can’t let on that she remembers everything. Even in her vulnerable state she knows for certain she needs time to sort through everything. As much as she wants to pour the truth out to him she values breathing. She hasn’t taken all the risks she has for this man to have him kill her in their beautiful home.
She shifts so she is sitting up, pushing away the nausea and reaches for the pendant laying between them. “The necklace, I remember the first time I put it on you. Ivar, I need to lie down. My head,” she whines, clutching her temples. “My head is splitting.”
She manages to walk to the bed on her wobbly legs, with his help and climbs under the covers and curls up into a ball. The bed dips and she feels him behind her, pressing himself close to her, running his hand up over her arm.
“Do you need anything, love? I will call a doctor.”
“No don’t, I’m ok. I think it’s just going to feel like this when I get memories, they said that after the market. Can you get me some water?”
Ivar nods against her skin. “I will love, I’m going to set an appointment tomorrow to go back to the hospital for tests. Just to be sure.”
As she hears him start to leave she turns to him quickly, knowing she needs to address something. “Ivar? I really don’t have any memory of that man from the Gala.”
Ivar’s jaw ticks and he nods stiffly at her then leaves.
Her own lip curls in disgust when she thinks of Lev. He will be dealt with sooner or later.
She stare up at the ceiling before getting the strength to walk to the bathroom to take a look at herself in the mirror. She looks different now she remembers who she is. Harder, she doesn’t like it.
“Hello, Etta.” She says to her reflection.
She runs her eyes over her reflection, the scar on her cheek, pulling down her top to look at the scars over her arm. Her gaze travels back to her short hair and she sneers slightly then remembers Ivar’s reaction to it and smiles.
“You are not Etta anymore,” she says softly, pointing at herself in the mirror. “You are Liet, his Liet. Bury the old you, do you hear me?” Her reflection nods and she starts to formulate a way forward.
A path to happiness.
————-
She doesn’t know how she manages to keep it together in the days and weeks after her life returns but she does. She compartmentalises her life as Etta until Ivar leaves every morning, as soon as the front door shuts she runs to the shower and tears pour from her. Grief for her parents, they way they were taken from her, the sheer scale of who she was before crushing her like a bug under a wheel.
Broken, bent, torn apart by the old her.
She prays to the Gods to make her Liet again, to remove everything she knows now but it’s just an act of futility. She has to find a way to live with the knowledge that she betrayed her Ivar, to continue to function as his wife with the terror that he and his family will find out about her.
The thought of fleeing crosses her mind, for him as much as for her. Gods know what Ragnar would do to Ivar if he finds out. If she leaves him, just disappears, she could protect him from that, but she knows she’s too selfish, and where would she go? Back to Lev?
Back to the man who did this to her?
“Liet, you have to talk to me. I feel you pulling away from me. I know something has changed. You are not… you are the same… you are turning into the you from before the accident and I need you to be happy again. Baby, please talk to me.”
Julietta can’t meet his eyes, but she forces herself to as she lies to his beautiful face. “I keep seeing flashes, I don’t like what I see, Ivar. Snippets of the way I was, and hate it. I was a totally different person, I didn’t know how to let myself be loved but I don't know why.” She knows why, but she needs to give him something. She used to be able to deceive at the blink of an eye, she’s lost that ability and part of her is grateful, but a bigger part of her wishes she could bullshit with ease to his face.
“Gods,” she thinks, “I should just fucking end it all now and spare him the pain of knowing who I really was.”
“Liet. I chose you then, and I will choose you in every lifetime I live. Always, baby. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, I’ve loved you through the bad, the terrifying and the amazing. You don’t remember it all but I do, and it’s you. It’s always you. Always.
—————————
She exists. Weeks are passing slowly and she is slowly learning how to be Liet, pushing Etta away. It’s easing, the guilt. The fear of being found out is something she just pushes away with a stern talking to in the mirror. She’s determined to be who she wants to be, not who she was.
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She’s chosen the venue, the night. Open mic. Ivar scoffs at it but settles into his seat with her before she goes to the bar and gets him his preferred beer.
He watches her at the bar and lets out a small sigh of discontent.
Forty-five minutes of mediocre singing and boring conversation passes before something hits him.
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
She’s chosen the venue, the night. Open mic. Ivar scoffs at it but settles into his seat with her before she goes to the bar and gets him his preferred beer.
He watches her at the bar and lets out a small sigh of discontent.
Forty-five minutes of mediocre singing and boring conversation passes before something hits him.
Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree
She’s chosen the venue, the night. Open mic. Ivar scoffs at it but settles into his seat with her before she goes to the bar and gets him his preferred beer.
He watches her at the bar and lets out a small sigh of discontent.
Forty-five minutes of mediocre singing and boring conversation passes before something hits him.
A familiar melody, guitar based that makes something in his brain fizz. He’s heard the song before. A beautiful hum fills the air.
“If you, if you could return, don’t let it burn, don’t let it fade..”
Ivar’s ears prick up before his consciousness allows him to realise the beautiful, ethereal voice emanating from the stage is hers.
“I’m sure I’m not being rude, but it’s just your attitude..”
It’s her. She’s singing the song that is theirs, not “theirs” theirs but a song they both know well enough, more than fitting to their situation.
“It’s tearing me apart..”
He turns slowly to see her on stage, guitar in hand, face etched with sorrow.
“..it’s ruining everything.”
Her curly hair is framing her face as she recites the words that sum up the end of their time together perfectly. His heart clenches when he thinks of the word end.
“And I swore, swore I would be true, and honey so did you..”
His gut drops as he watches her spill out all their dirty, heart wrenching laundry to all the people packed in the room with them. The shame of his actions colours his face. She must be doing it to hurt him, he’s sure of it. But as stares at her, he realises she is totally oblivious to his presence in the audience.
“So why were you holding her hand? Is that the way we stand?..”
He glances at the woman he is here with: the woman he broke her trust with, the woman who turned his head away from his love. He’s making it work with the woman at the table, his pride won’t allow him to admit publicly that he fucked up. He knows that she’s got nothing on the woman sitting on the stage who is crushing his heart with these lyrics.
When his gaze drags back to the stage the singer is staring at him and his heart stops beating. It’s the first time he’s looked into her eyes for weeks.
..”were you lying all the time? Was it just a game to you?..” she raises her eyebrow in question.
She closes her eyes, shutting Ivar out, and not for the first time. She’d closed her eyes and held her hand up to his face, silencing his bullshit, lame excuses when she’d seen them together.
The end.
..”but I’m in so deep. You know I’m such a fool for you..”
The singer meets his eyes again and the world stops for him, the agony of his actions radiating out of her, flowing over the crowd, a tsunami of emotion.
..”you got me wrapped around your finger. Do you have to let it linger, do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”
“Oh I thought the world of you. I thought nothing could go wrong, but I was wrong, I was wrong…”
He is enraptured by her. The spotlights shining through her thick curly hair is making her look like she’s bathed in the flames of a fire. He barely hears the rest of the song, he just stares at her singing and playing guitar. Happy memories of them racing through his head with each line she sings, then the deep regret he feels lodges in his chest as he listens to the pain he inflicted on her flooding the packed bar.
He notices that she isn’t wearing the necklace anymore, she’s certainly not wearing the ring. He feels his nose fizz as he fights back the tears prickling his eyes.
The singer closes her eyes again and strums her final note.
A moment of silence passes before applause sets the room alight. The singer doesn’t move for a beat and when she does she doesn’t acknowledge the crowd cheering for her rendition, her beautiful voice.
She walks backstage breathing heavily. He’s in the crowd, she saw him before she went out on stage and almost turned to leave, but she didn’t, she just quickly changed her song choice.
“Girl, do you see who is out there?” A friend says eyeing the crowd, running a comforting hand up her arm.
“I don’t see anyone I know,” she replies coldly before walking out confidently, refusing to let him take up anymore of her headspace.
The blond haired woman at his table, so much different from her curly dark hair, touches Ivar’s arm, pulling him out of his almost hypnotic state. “Ivar, are you good?” she asks quizzically, a nasty smile playing on her lips.
“You knew she would be here? Why did you do this?” Ivar barely contains his rising temper. She did this to twist the knife.
He shakes her hand off his arm before grabbing his crutch and making his way to the door.
She has her hood up as she walks from the venue side-door, but the guitar on her back gives her away.
“Hey!” Ivar shouts and hurries to the singer. “Hey! Let me talk to you!”
The singer's steps falter and she turns slowly to face him.
“Hello, love.” Ivar says softly, his voice full of sadness.
She says nothing.
“You were brilliant up there. Your voice…” He tries to find adequate words but his vocabulary fails him. It always does. She pushes her hood down to reveal her curly hair, blond streaks adorn it now, shorter, not the hair he knew.
She just stares at him as if there’s no recognition at all. She’s not the same woman he knew.
“That song, love. You knew I was here?” Ivar asks tentatively.
The singer finally answers: “I didn’t.” She gives him a nonchalant shrug and nothing more.
The stare she gives him is hard, so hostile that he steps back slightly. “The lyrics..” He glances at his feet then back to her. “The lyrics were for us? For me, I mean, for what I did?”
“Nothing I do is for you anymore, Ivar.” She spins on her heels and walks away.
He can do nothing but watch her leave him. Again.
“I’m so sorry. Please!” he shouts loudly, unashamedly begging for a few more seconds of her time.
Her steps don’t falter this time, she carries on walking away from him.
dededos
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
