This was requested by an amazing follower of mine @limbo-limbo-limbo !!! I hope you enjoy babes!🥰💕
Pairing: Ivar The Boneless x POC Reader
Taglist: @wallabieswisher @reeree1500 @justacripple @jacksonroth @calum-hoodwinked-me @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @sallylebecks @funmadnessandbadassvikings
"We have not seen nor heard from M'baku for more than four years, why must we go to this wedding?" Ivar seethed as he limped along the curves of the upcoming hill. He found the repetitive sound of his crutch delving into the soil beneath his path to be quite maddening.
“We must go, Ivar, whether you find it agreeable or not. He is my friend and when you consider someone to be your friend, it is your duty to be there for them in the times that are most important.” Ragnar said
The last notable memory Ivar had of his father’s dear friend’s presence came from a time farther away than it seemed. Each millisecond of that day still recites vividly in his mind. Every sound, feeling, taste, and smell is still as potent as they were when first encountered. The sight of waves pounding against the sides of a trading ship carrying his mentor into the distance, haunt him as a long since passed lover haunts their widow. Although the look in M’baku’s eyes was one of great sorrow, Ivar refused to believe that his abandonment caused M’baku as much agony as it did him. No one aside from Ragnar knew M’baku’s reason for departing, although many had come to their own conclusions. The years came and went as the tides, grieving boys became broken men and new paths were forged. Life returned to its normal fashion and the world carried on as Ivar hung in the balance, a cold and desolate balance.
On the day prior to this, news of the wedding of M’baku’s daughter was conveyed to Kattegat. It was implied that the presence of the the ragnarrson clan in its entirety would be greatly valued but only two obliged. The remaining few possessed a great anger which overpowered whatever sorrowful desires to be in his company they may’ve had. Neither Ivar nor Ragnar shared the same sentiments. Many potent emotions were present when they were met with the concept of reuniting with their lost companion but none held the intensity of a longing to acquire a well deserved and proper goodbye, as opposed to the poorly shaken hand gesture which they were given.
The men have traversed many miles since their departure at nightfall some hours before. To use the word fatigue to describe the pain which radiates through their legs would be a great injustice. They prevailed, enduring the aches and cries of their limbs as they begged for relief. Not even halting their journey to replenish themselves at the bank of the river they trudged along.
“How much further must we go?” Ivar groaned as he limped along the path Ragnar carved.
“Do you ever cease to complain, son? We will be there when it is time for us to be there and by the grace of the gods I do hope it’s soon. I’ve grown tired of your whining.”
Each part of the forest began to appear similar to the previous. One by one, the trees all formed into the shape of their predecessors, the smells of neighboring greenery became whole as an unfamiliar and lingering scent. A scent that clung to the hairs within their noses. No sounds aside from those of nature were heard until an orchestra of tribal instruments bellowed throughout the woods. The intensity of drums chiming cut the through the deep silence of the local atmosphere.
“They are merciful gods, are they not?” Ragnar said
As they drew nearer to the root of the clamor, they found themselves in the heart of a mass of joyous guests. In a sea of glimmering smiles and sounds of merriment, there was one face that ceased to exist.
“Hmm, seems like he did not even care to make an appearance at his own daughter’s wedding.” Ivar jeered.
On the other side of them, he hovered slightly above as he observed their reaction to the sights. Perhaps he was too frightened to make himself known initially, too afraid to face the man who was once the little boy who cried his name at the shores.
He placed his hand firmly on Ragnar’s shoulder as he would in the years of the past.
“I was almost sure you wouldn’t come, nevertheless, I’m glad you did.”
Ragnar turned at a tedious pace as if he did not want to truly know if it was him in the flesh. Yet, when he did, the delight that shone upon his face was unmistakable.
“Why would it not be? Whom else could it have been?”
“The seas parted me from the you that I loved, I was not sure if you could still be that person.”
For a moment, just a minuscule portion of time, they witnessed in each other’s eyes all that had took place in either’s absence. The blue’s and brown’s of their corneas displayed pain, sorrow, anger, and happiness alike with each stroke of color.
M’baku laid hold of him, clasping his hands around the length of Ragnar’s sizeable forearms. There was no time squandered as he hastily took it upon himself to embrace his colleague. Neither of the men could deny how they took solace in the comfort of the other’s arms.
To the rear of Ragnar, M’baku caught sight of a far more familiar tint of blue. There was no question of Ivar’s similarity to the discouraged yet frightening young lad whom slithered across man made paths of dirt as a child. The dynamic of that young boy has changed, the sufferings of his past have grown into unhealed wounds of the present.
There he stood at an impressive height, as still as manageable, seemingly unmoved by the heart-wrenching scene that occurred before him. The men released each other, once Ragnar regained knowledge of Ivar’s presence.
“I suppose you are expecting a hug as well, come my boy.”
A sense of desertion enclosed itself within the space betwixt M’baku’s welcoming arms. The pain of the ever-changing times had given way to the formation of a profound sentimental barrier.
“I do not need your affection, I came for my father. Not for you, nor my own pains, but for him.” Ivar asserted whilst nudging M’baku’s arms aside.
Leaves from the tree which stood tall above them fell gracefully upon the ground with the aid of gentle high winds. There M’baku’s eyes gazed as they avoided contact with Ivar’s.
“Very well, I suppose the two of you would care to meet the bride.”
Separate yet conjoining clusters of guests parted allowing the men to be lead to the lady of the day. A vision unimaginable to most men of humble intelligence appeared before them. She was beauty in its sacred form, a light at the grayest of hours, an emblem of life in the time of demise and Ivar was thoroughly captivated by her likeness.
“Ragnar, Ivar, I would like for you to meet my daughter; Y/N.”
Words could not be produced of adequate significance to be spoken to such a beauty, or so Ivar thought.
“It is a tremendous pleasure to finally be face to face with you both. Father has told me such remarkable tales of explorations you've embarked on together. Thank you for attending. ”
“The pleasure is all mine, truly,” Ivar mumbled
There occurred an undeniable aura of newfound fascination amongst them. Ragnar observed in amusement as his son admired the stunning bride. It brought him considerable glee to witness his son delve into a world of youthful desire.
“I believe my lad fancies your daughter. It seems as though it should be the day they were to be wed. If only they'd grown jointly.” he whispered in a rather impish tone
“Life is far too brief for “If Only”, all we have to cling to are the moments that occur now and will hopefully arise in the future. I became aware of that not too long after I departed from you.”
Ragnar came to Y/N, grasping her hands in a subtle manner as he traced intricate circles along the backs of each. It simply pained him to gaze into the depths of her eyes and understand how much of her life has come and departed all alike without his presence. Precious eras he wished deeply to take part in were but the wind as of now and forever will be, yet he felt for her as an uncle would simply for his devotion to her father.
“Y/N, you are far more beautiful than I or your father could've ever imagined and I wish you nothing but joyous times and plentiful blessings from the gods.”
A sensation of comfort came over Ragnar’s skin once the affection of her hands clasped around his face.
“Thank you, Ragnar, your kind words are appreciated far more than it can be explained.”
To the far right of her, a rather dashing and exceptionally noble-looking young groom appeared beholding a smile which beamed with pride. In the second Ivar set his sights upon him, he understood the presence of the man who stood between himself and the woman he’s hastily grown an affection for. A glow that’d shone brightly upon Ivar’s face has now developed into a disturbed expression of failure and inferiority. The sight of the groom’s arms slithering around the width of her waist bothered Ivar immensely although he felt quite uncertain as to why it troubled him in such a way.
“I would like for you all to meet my husband, Kefé.”
Until this point, Ivar assumed he’d experienced no greater pain than the sufferings of his early years which have chipped away at his soul leaving a man of a damaged nature. Those words incited the birth of a contemporary element of agony, one which could not be fathomed. Kefé applied passionate kisses along the skin of her neck symbolically imprinting upon his territory. With each kiss, an isolated portion of Ivar withered. It troubled him to realize that the origin of Y/N’s laughter and blossoming grin were not from his own actions but from the actions of another.
Ragnar caught sight of his son’s newly paled complexion and weakened demeanor.
“It is alright son, certain things are not meant to be, no matter how cruel the gods appear for not hearing our prayers or fulfilling our desires, everything falls back into its rightful balance eventually. Life goes on, as you well know.” he murmured whilst grasping Ivar’s shoulder.
“Why must it constantly go on without me, hmm?” Ivar whimpered
Such a concern remained without a proper answer for Ragnar as much as it did for Ivar and perhaps it will forever prevail as an enigma of existence.
“I am not sure but you could wallow in your sorrows and vie for the affections of a taken woman for the rest of the evening and perhaps the rest of your younger years like a bitch or we could relish in the festivities for now. This is a matter of fate that is entirely your choice my son, you can come and find me if you have chosen the latter.”
In the usual fashion, Ivar chose to delve into his anguish. Elation swirled about the masses as he plummeted beneath tides of despair established by no other force than the inner workings of a shattered mind. All by his lonesome in the farthest corner of the campgrounds, he settled in the company of a cup of ale. Nature cloaked him in the shadows with the help of the vast number of guests roaming. Ivar grew accustomed to the comfort of the shadows. They provided a sense of normality, if one can not see defects, it is almost as if they cease to exist. It is the one domain in which Ivar is more than a cripple, a man. Of what manner should a man be presented? Whom decides the value of a man and of what values do the qualifications consist of? To Ivar, to be a man is to be a finely crafted piece of weaponry with the potency to forge a legacy.
Many did not notice Ivar’s sudden disappearance from plain sight. Y/N was not one of the many.
“Ragnar, where has your son gone off to? I expected to see quite a lot of him this evening. Father told me many tales in which Ivar was the life of the party.” Y/N said
The sudden concern that was shown towards Ivar sparked an interest in Kefé as well as Ragnar.
“My son has never been one to enjoy romantic occasions. You may see him periodically but not in his common state.”
Y/N’s sights were set upon the masses as her ears desired the dreadful yet melodious sound of a crutch against hardened earth. She scoured through a plethora of faces to find those distinct eyes.
“I do hope he's alright,” she confessed
“Well, why don't you find him? I'm sure he’ll be more than glad to see you.”
Ragnar’s preposition humored M’baku yet not enough to lose consideration for his son in law’s sentiments.
“I don't believe that would be in his best interest, sweetheart. Let him be for now.”
“I believe I shall find him.”
Anxious hands tried to clasp for her, yet she disappeared almost as immediately as those words entered the atmosphere. She split the crowds in quick motions as a swift wind. It seemed reasonable to assume that discovering a cripple amongst a crowd of common men would be rather simple but it proved to be a tedious task, to say the least.
After many long moments of searching, there he appeared, as lonesome as ever beneath a willow tree. If eyes could speak, what would those of Ivar say? Whom would they converse with? The warmth of ale granted freedom to those sorrowful eyes, allowing their brilliant tones to speak volumes.
It presented itself in the manner of an angel to his ears. A delicate, mellifluous key wielded as an instrument of the Valkyries. A temporary calming mist blanketing grief.
Their eyes came upon one another in a moment of understanding silence. Ivar attempted, to the best of his abilities to rise to his feet as a gentleman is expected to. His limbs succumbed to their pains, forcing him back down upon his bottom.
“I apologize, I'll only need a moment,” he mumbled in humiliation
To his surprise, she grasped onto his arm firmly guiding him into standing position.
“It is never a sin to be deserving of aid,” she said whilst clearing dust from his lower body armor.
They began to take a leisurely stroll into the neighboring wilderness.
“Why were you sitting there, secluded?”
“I did not feel as though my presence was fit for such an occasion.”
Ivar ceased to walk, swiveling his body to come face to face with Y/N.
“I am not a normal man as I hope you can see. I can not run with the breeze, I can not frolic, I can hardly stand without assistance. I am not a conventional party guest.”
“I do not fancy anything conventional, convention limits originality. I certainly would not desire a conventional party guest. My father told me many tales of your performances at parties. You were vibrant and free of thresholds, a true testament to elation. What has changed?”
Ivar returned to his place beside her, not wanting to dignify those wonderous eyes with an answer. Her arm enveloped his, as she led him along the trail. As he strolled at her side, Ivar recognized this moment as the first of an era in which he felt natural. Glaring at her shimmering skin beneath the sunlight peeking through the trees, he’d never witnessed a more astonishing sight. It was a sight that provoked a sense of lightness, the world’s sufferings became minimal as well as his own.
“That boy you're referring to was indomitable. His source of strength was untampered with. He proved to be more of a man than I am now, perhaps more than I ever will be in further times. It was simple to exist as that lad when I'd not known pain or at least acknowledged it. Once I became aware of it, that young lad withered into a hallow minuscule wispy creature incapable of fathoming basic human sensations aside from the depths of sorrow.”
“I think you should delve into the origin of that boy’s strength. Perhaps he did acknowledge the pain, but he gained joy from comprehending that he could withstand it. Do not fail him as you relish in despair.”
“What if I can not be as strong as he was? That Ivar was one of the distant times of the past. He and I are no longer one, what if I cannot possess the same wisdom as he did?”
It was rare for Ivar to be left flabbergasted, seeing as his tongue was his only weapon. That statement provided insight into a world of unscathed emotions as new as the fall leaves raining down upon their heads.
“I like you Ivar. I am not sure for what reason or in what manner but I do recognize something. I suppose I see myself in you. You and I are of similar flames, we are different, set apart by the gods.”
Their faces instinctively turned to the other, sharing yet another passionate glare. If there was one thing that was certain for Ivar at that moment, it was a burgeoning desire to ravage every part of her. The warmth of his breath coated her lips as his mouth drew closer to hers. Ragnar watched them for some time as the evening drew nearer to their departure. Just as their lips we're hairsbreadth apart, the substantial realm intervened.
“Ivar, it's time to go son.”
..............................................
Throughout their voyage back home Ivar remained deep in thought. This ongoing silence troubled Ragnar.
“I'll never forget her, will I?”
Matters of love and life have come to baffle man since the dawn of conscience. It is an ongoing and never unraveled enigma.
“No, you will not, son. Your first and your last will forever haunt you. It is your choice whether or not they maintain their beauty or they evolve into prolonged, repetitive miseries.”
