FLESH & BONE
Title: Flesh & Bone
Summary: You are an omega who has been sold by King Ælla to a wealthy Alpha in Mercia, but before you can be handed over to your new master, another infamous Alpha named Ivar the Boneless has decided to take you for himself.
Pairing: Alpha!Ivar x Omega!Reader (Flora)
Warnings: a/b/o aspects, violence, blood, sexual content in future chapters.
[If you would like to be tagged in future chapters or in other works of mine, please let me know]
Chapters: 2. 3
ONE: C A P T U R E D
The shackles around your wrists were too tight, the rough metal edges grazing your skin with each slight movement, causing the flesh to blister and bleed. Wincing at the pain that began to throb through your palms and down into your fingertips, you sucked in a sharp breath and knocked your head back against the wooden frame. This was hell, and you knew it wouldn’t get any easier from here on out now that you had been sold. For three months the slavers in Northumbria had kept you imprisoned, kidnapping you from your bed in the dead of night and stealing you away from your home and family. You learned later on that it had been planned out for weeks before a handful of soldiers sprang into action like rabid dogs, taking turns to hurt you in the cruellest ways possible before handing you over to King Ælla who had orchestrated the entire event.
‘I know what you are’ Ælla had growled at you knowingly, sneering at you from the other side of the cage he had kept you in for the time you spent in his Kingdom. He poked and prodded you with a hot fire iron, enjoying the cries of pain that it elicited from you. ‘Filthy little omega whore. If there wasn’t gold to be made from selling you, I’d have your throat cut and your body thrown into the river with the rest of the scum!’
Looking back on the horror of it all, you supposed having your throat cut would have been the kindest thing the cruel King could have done to you, at least it would have been quick. But this prolonged journey of constant abuse had broken your spirit, so much so that you no longer had any fight left in you. Northumbria and Ælla were now in the past, he had auctioned you off to the highest bidding Alpha– a tyrant named Lord Bolton who had paid a generous amount of gold to secure you as his property. The thralls who had been tasked to get you ready to leave Northumbria had heard whispers about him and told you of the terror that awaited you, they said he enjoyed skinning people alive and hunted women and children with packs of starving hounds. If that was to be your fate, you would find a way to end it.
‘Make sure they are nice and tight.’ Ælla had grumbled at the blacksmith who fitted the shackles around your hands, his beady black eyes watching your face twist in pain.
‘They are as tight as I can get them, your grace.’ The Englishman had responded, noticing the way your eyes watered and not wanting to hurt you further.
‘I said tighter!” The King bellowed. “Get out of the way, let me do it!” He shoved the blacksmith to the side and grabbed his hammer out of his hand, eyes wild with sinister intent as he swung the heavy tool down and smacked the metal shackles that bent painfully around your wrists.
You cried out in agony, your eyes squeezing shut and legs buckling beneath you at the last savage act the Northumbrian King would inflict on you before he sent you away to your new captor. He watched on as you writhed in pain, and the blacksmith watched him, disgusted by the cruelty he had witnessed but unable to defend you in fear for his own life.
‘Throw her in the carriage, Lord Bolton is awaiting his new pet.’ He glowered down at you and tossed the hammer aside, watching on as the thralls scrambled around you and dragged you towards the horse and carriage that would transport you to Mercia.
The journey had been rocky as you sat in silence, your eyes red and puffy from a mixture of crying and lack of sleep. Now you were just exhausted, unable to shed another tear as you gazed longingly out of the carriage window at the vast empty fields, forests and mountains that passed you by. You thought about the ways in which you could kill yourself and fantasised about them in your mind. A rope would do the trick, you could hang yourself from the window of your room when you arrived at Lord Bolton’s estate, though you weren’t sure if you would even be given a room. Maybe he had another cage ready for you, the thought alone made bile rise in your throat. Perhaps you could find poisonous herbs and swallow them before anyone had the chance to take them from you, it would be a painful end you assumed but it was far better than being skinned alive.
“Stop!” One of the soldiers mounted on one of the two horses that pulled the carriage along called out. “I need to take a piss.”
“Oh, hurry up would ya! I want to get job this done quick; you know how Ælla gets if we don’t get back on time.” The other soldier complained, their voices muffled as they talked amongst themselves.
The carriage slowed to a halt, and you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest slither of hope fill you as you sat up from the position you had been slouched in, eyes widening curiously as you peered outside. Farmlands as far as the eye could see surrounded by forests that you could hide in if you were quick enough. Flicking your gaze down at the door handle, you felt an overwhelming need to try your luck one final time. Grabbing at it, you shoved it down only for it not to budge. You tried again and again until you realised that the door had been bolted shut. Of course, it had.
“Shit.” You breathed, panic rising within you as you slid over the wooden bench to the opposite door and peered out of the window to see one of the soldiers stroll down an embankment, whistling a tune to himself as he went. When he disappeared out of view, you tried the second handle but felt your hope dwindle as it too didn’t move.
“Oi, stop moving around back there!” The other soldier shouted in a thick English accent, banging his heavy fist against the carriage as he peered at you through the peep hole at the front. “Yes, I see you – sit back and shut up. You hear me?”
Clinching your jaw, you fell back against the bench and dropped your sore hands into your lap again, truly defeated.
“I’m talking to you.” The soldier sneered at you.
“I heard you.” You mumbled quietly.
“What was that? Speak up, I can’t bloody hear you!” He called out, glaring at you as you stared back at him.
“I said I heard you!” You snapped; your voice thick with anger at your failed attempt to escape.
“Vikings!” The soldier who had disappeared down the verge reappeared in a frenzy, his voice filled with rising panic as he scrambled to jump back on the horse. “A shit load of ‘em, move! Move! Fucking go!”
“Shit!” The other soldier panicked and yanked at the reigns of his horse, whipping the beast as hard as he could to get it going. “Move, you lazy bastard! MOVE.”
You gasped and leaned forward to look out of the window again, hearing them before you actually laid eyes on them. A sea of voices shouted in the distance and the sound of their infamous horn bellowed in the air, letting you and your captors know that they had seen you. Yet again you were thrown into another fast-approaching predicament.
The carriage shook vigorously, sending you crashing into wooden frame in front of you with a pained groan as the horses were worked beyond their abilities. They neighed in protest, but the soldiers didn’t let up, instead bearing down on the animals who galloped along the uneven roads in desperation.
Hissing at the ache in your wrists, you cried out as you pushed yourself back up to sit on the bench but it was no use as you were thrown to the side of the carriage when the horses dived down a rocky hill, causing you to tumble to the wooden floor with a thud. One of the wheels cracked and split in half, the wood pinging from the carriage and tumbling to the ground causing the wooden prison to bounce unevenly.
“We ain’t gonna make it!” One of the soldiers shouted. “They’re gaining ground. I’m not dying over some stupid bloody omega, you’re on your own.” It was then that you heard metal break against metal, and the carriage squealed in protest as one of the horses broke loose.
“Ælla will kill us if we desert our posts!” The other soldier shouted. “You traitor!”
“Those bastards are going to kill us, you stupid cunt!” And with that, the soldier and his now free horse galloped ahead, leaving you alone with the other.
“Ah, God sake!” The other soldier hauled the reigns and pulled his horse to a stop, diving from the saddle before sprinting back to where you were. Yanking the bolt out of its place with a grunt, he ripped the door open and snatched your arm. “Get up, we need to move or both of us are dead!”
“Let. Me. Go!” You growled, fighting against him with kicks as he dragged you alongside him off the main road and down into a shallow riverbed. “Am I really worth the trouble? You can run away now and leave me, Ælla will never know!”
“Shut up!” He hissed, turning to grab you by the jaw. “Shut your mouth and listen, if they hear us down here, they’ll kill us.”
“I’m going to die anyway, and I’d rather die now than in the hands of Lord Bolton!” You groaned, struggling against his grip on you. “HELP!”
He threw you down into the shallow water with a thump when you shouted, panicking as he looked around for enemies. “You really are a stupid little cow, you think Bolton is bad? These monsters will torture you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”
You scrambled to your feet and glowered up at him, your dirtied cotton dress heavy with water, your knees scraped and your nose bloodied from the hard fall. “Then you do it. Kill me.”
“What?” The soldier scowled at you, his hand hovering over his sheathed sword. “Are you mad?”
It was then that an arrow hurtled past your face so fast that if you blinked you would have missed it, the sharpened steel head whizzing through the air and spearing itself through the throat of the Northumbrian soldier with a sickening squelch. You stumbled back on your feet and fell into the water again, eyes wide with terror as he clutched at the bleeding wound in his neck. You watched on helplessly as he hacked and gargled on his own blood before collapsing to his knees and falling face first into the running stream.
Blood pooled into the once clear water and you quickly pulled yourself to your feet, knowing another could be shot in your direction any moment now. Looking up to where the arrow had come from, a shaky breath hitched in the back of your throat when your gaze fell upon the heathen who stood in a black chariot up on the grassy riverbank. His piercing blue eyes were fixated on you as you stood on shaky legs, black bow secured in his grip with another arrow at the ready. If he fired now, you would be dead. But he didn’t. Instead, he silently watched you for a moment and as you breathed in – you smelt it. You smelt him.
There was no mistaking that powerful scent, and it clung to your nose and filled your lungs, almost intoxicating you. A mix between firewood, mud, the sea and his natural musk.
“Alpha.” You murmured.
He lowered his bow then and you heard more Vikings in the near distance, their horn bellowing loudly to alert their ever growing presence.
“Don’t be stupid, surrender to me now and you won’t get hurt!” He shouted down at you, the very real threat in his Nordic accent accompanied with a sadistic smirk that sent a shiver rolling up the length of your spine. “Don’t make this anymore harder for yourself than it already is, slave. Let’s not have you end up like your friend down there, huh?”
You bolted in the opposite direction, not giving into his command. If you truly wanted to survive then you decided it was best to take your chances.
Scowling at your poor choice, the Viking lowered his bow into the chariot and pulled free another weapon – a bolas. The long chord had two steel weights shaped like spheres dangling from either side, perfect for situations just like this. He clinched his jaw and swung the chord above his head a few times, getting the momentum just right before he threw it in your direction with a grunt. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, hearing nothing but your own heartbeat in your ears and the river splashing with your hurried movements and just as you thought you had outrun him – the chord swung around your calves and trapped your legs together in a vice-like grip.
“Ah, NO!” You screamed as you collapsed in a heap, landing directly on your shackled wrists.
Pain, so much pain.
It was over, you were captured once again.
“Bring her to me!” He commanded his men and removed his helmet, setting it down in his chariot to reveal a head of dark braids as his army finally caught up to him.
You didn’t bother moving and instead sobbed quietly to yourself, knowing your fate had finally been sealed. It wasn’t long before you were hauled to your feet and carried back in the direction you had run from, two Viking warriors flanking you on either side as they yanked you up and out of the river. You said nothing when they shoved you to your knees before the chariot.
The distinctive sound of metal clunking against the ground filled your ears.
Clunk.
Step, step.
Clunk.
Step, step.
Peering up from the ground with teary eyes, you noticed the black makeshift crutch and a pair of unsteady legs bound together by leather straps and metal before you looked up again to see the one who possessed them. It was him, the alpha. You had heard stories of a crippled Viking ravaging the country, his name rang like alarm bells in your mind – Ivar the Boneless.
“I did warn you.” He said breezily, mocking you as he limped forward until his crutch came to rest right by your bleeding knees. It was sharpened into a point, a weapon and crutch combined. “Tell me, slave – how is it that an omega came to travel with Ælla’s men? The last time I checked, that fat oaf has no use for your kind. He is no beta, and he certainly is no alpha, so you can see why I am puzzled.”
You weren’t interested in speaking to him and so remained silent, but soon learned this was not an option when he grabbed your throat with his free hand. You grimaced and wrinkled your nose in discomfort as he pulled you to your feet in one swoop, his leather glove squeaking as he squeezed your throat and forced you to look him in the eye. “I really need to know why, you see…” He breathed, his brow furrowing angrily as he stared down at you with contempt. “…Ælla murdered my father and so I am going to kill him and all those who are loyal to him, and if you are loyal to him then-“
“I am NOT loyal to Ælla!” You interrupted him with a growl, all teeth and disgust.
“I’m not so sure.” He said lowly, narrowing his intense glare upon your face.
“He tortured me for months!” You snapped back and lifted your pained wrists. “And then he shackled me and sold me like cattle, I was on my way to my new master before you and your men chased us down. I am not loyal to Ælla.”
The Viking considered what you had to say and stared at you for another moment before releasing his grip. “What is the name of this alpha you were sold to?” He asked curiously, leaning back on his crutch.
“Lord Bolton.”
He shrugged at the name as if it meant nothing to him. “I believe you.”
“Will you let me go now?” You asked now that the intense interrogation seemed to be over. “Please?”
“No.”
“No?”
“What, are you a parrot?” He sneered, glaring back at you unkindly. “I said no. You are coming with me; I am not done with you yet. What is your name?”
Glowering at the Viking, you gulped back the urge to spit in his face and instead sighed deeply. “Flora.”
“You live to see another day, Flora. Count your blessings, tomorrow might be a different story.” He smirked, dragging his eyes over you in judgement. “Do you know who I am?” He asked, his eyes darkening deviously as if he already knew the answer about to leave your mouth.
“Yes, you are Ivar the Boneless.” You glanced down at his legs when you named him before finding his eyes again, noting the way he tensed. “Son of Ragnar Lothbrok.”
Licking his tongue against his lower lip, he grinned and looked wolfish. “Of course, I am.” Pointing his crutch at you in a veiled threat, he narrowed his blue eyes at you deviously. “But to you, I am master, and you will address me as such.”
“I have no master.” You bit back at him and he chuckled.
“We will see.” Waving at his men, Ivar addressed them with a boldness. “Take her and bind her to my chariot, we are going home!”
You made his men drag you to the man-made contraption and bit into your tongue until you tasted blood as they secured your shackled wrists to the wooden frame. Ivar limped behind and pulled himself up with a low grunt to stand behind you, his armoured chest pressing into your back as he put his helmet back on and leaned over you to grab the reigns. The alpha quite literally was breathing down your neck as he whipped his white stallion into motion once again.
“To York!” He roared his command and his men roared back in support, sounding their horn once again as they headed North.
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